Daemon of Hunger

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You take a moment to concentrate on yourself - to ponder your newfound strengths and abilities, and all the realms of reality in which you could tap into. [if MatterAbility] [[➼->Matter/Aether Ability]]The Aether. {inventory AetherAbility} [if TimeAbility] [[➼->Time/Chronos Ability]]The Chronos. {inventory ChronosAbility} [if PersuasionAbility] [[➼->Persuasion/Animus Ability]]The Animus. {inventory AnimusAbility} [continue] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'transformation'}

IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: true -- Uncle's words echo in your mind: "Make yourself indispensable, dear." Your position here is precarious - you're well aware of how the others view you. A dolt. But they don't understand your ambitions. *Your vision!* The museum could be more than useless, dusty artifacts; it could be a social center, drawing in aristocracy from all across the isle... so sophisticated, so beautiful! You just need the right opportunity. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: true -- You scan the carefully arranged displays, mentally reorganizing them to proper academic standards. The artifacts deserve precise climate control, detailed contextual descriptions, proper conservation protocols - all currently neglected under the current administration. You've drafted proposals, created budgets, designed flawless systems. Yet the board continually overlooks your expertise in favor of political connections. Your jaw tightens. Patience. All of this was never your goal, just an interesting distraction, really. Your time will come. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MirrorEventTurns: 0 MirrorEventFixed: false MirrorPastVisited: false MirrorGuardScared: false -- Mary's fingers tug urgently at Eleanor's sleeve as she leads her down a narrow corridor. "It's just through here," she whispers as she casts some nervous glances over her shoulder. "I was doing inventory - perfectly innocent, mind you! When I noticed it wasn't covered any more.” Eleanor follows, though she doesn’t look too happy to do so. "Mary, surely this could wait until morning? I’ve got things to-" Mary shakes her head vigorously. "No! You don't understand..." The corridor opens into a small, well-lit storage room, crowded with tall shelves of carefully boxed artifacts. You hover in after the two, immediately noticing the large, half-draped object to the other side. [[Mary gestures towards it.->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 2]]

Eleanor approaches the partially uncovered object. "What exactly am I looking at, Mary?" "...what kind of question is that?? It’s *the* mirror. From the Whitlock estate donation?" Mary wrings her hands. "I was checking items against the ledger when I realized someone had removed its covering. And then I noticed... oh dear, I’m going to get in so much trouble!” With careful hands, Eleanor pulls away the remaining linen, fully revealing the massive silver-framed mirror, and a single jagged crack running from edge to center, throwing off the reflection so badly that you can’t recognize anything from the room. At least you think that’s the case here: its surface is completely dull, just a [[broken grey wall->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 2.5]].

"It wasn't damaged during transport, mind you!" Mary continues. "I… I remember being there for the unpacking. This *had* to have happened while it was in storage." Eleanor frowns, leaning closer to examine the damage. "Curious. And you're certain it wasn't-" [[The lights flicker.->Ancient Mirror Diorama]]

You watch intently as the night guard step closer, pulling her towards him by her generous waist… a little too eagerly. Or maybe it’s the girl’s heels that make her stumble - still, as she looses her footing, they stumble against the mirror's stand. The heavy frame wobbles precariously before the guard steadies it - but it’s too late. A sharp crack splits the silence as the glass fractures from edge to center. "Oh! Now you've done it," she giggles, seemingly unconcerned as she pulls him toward the door. "Come on, we'd better go before someone hears." The guard hesitates, staring at the damaged mirror. He ultimately follows her, just in time for you to [[return to the present->Ancient Mirror Diorama]].

MirrorEventTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): MirrorEventTurns + 1 -- [if MirrorEventTurns < 5; unless MirrorEventFixed] You find yourself inside a cramped storage room. The light from the single gas lamp struggles to reach the corners. The massive [[ancient mirror]] dominates the back wall [[Eleanor->Eleanor Mirror]] stands before it, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examines the crack across its reflective surface. [[Mary->Mary Mirror]] hovers anxiously nearby, occasionally glancing at the [[storage ledger]] open on a small desk near the doorway. Several artifact shelves line the walls, but their contents are not visible enough in the dim light. The storage room's only exit is a heavy [[door]] with a small window. *** [continue] {embed passage: 'Mirror Diorama Dialogue'} [continue] [if MirrorEventTurns > 4; unless MirrorEventFixed] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with this situation's conclusion->Mirror Event Resolved/Unresolved]] or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 1]]. [if MirrorEventFixed] You return to the present, more than ready to leave the cramped room - that intervention of yours had to have been enough. Hopefully that should allow Eleanor to continue on with her afternoon. You float around the shelves, giving them a last chance to catch your attention. And then, as you realize both Eleanor and Mary are still in the room, the latter of them still complaining and bickering about, you do notice the issue. [[The mirror is still broken.->Mirror Event Resolved/Unresolved]]

MirrorPastVisited: true -- As you focus on the mirror, time slips backward. Shadows lengthen across the storage room as daylight fades into evening. The museum's sounds - footsteps, conversations, the distant closing of doors - gradually diminish. The mirror stands uncovered, its silver surface catching moonlight that streams through a very small, very high window. The storage room door creaks open, and two figures slip inside - a night guard in half-buttoned uniform and a young woman with copper-red hair falling loose around her shoulders. She giggles, pressing a finger to her lips. The guard leads her toward the mirror. "Belonged to some Russian aristocrat, yes. No, silly me! This came right from Peking. ‘Twas from the emperor’s chambers." he boasts. "Surely worth more than I'll make in 2, perhaps [[5 years->Ancient Mirror Occasion 2]]. No more than that though - that’d be ridiculous.” [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Ancient Mirror Past Scared Off]] [continue]

"Mmhm… very interesting… but we shouldn't be in here." she whispers, though she doesn’t look all that concerned. "Ah, well… Nobody ever comes to this part of the storage! Not after hours, anyways." the guard reassures her. "Besides, it looks amazing, doesn’t it? Downright huge." She trails her fingers along display cases, peering at artifacts with casual curiosity. "Oh, so this little thing is what you were talking about down at the pub?" she says dismissively, turning toward him with a coy smile. "And here I thought you were going to show me [[something worth my time.->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 3]]." [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Ancient Mirror Past Scared Off]] [continue]

MirrorGuardScared: true MirrorEventFixed: true -- You focus your will, sending a subtle pulse of vibration through the ancient mirror. Its frame falter a bit, and its surface... ripples? You could swear it almost looked like water, though you are not given enough time to check properly - it quickly settles back into stillness. The guard, about to lean in closer with the young woman, catches the movement in his peripheral vision. He glances into the mirror, and his boastful expression freezes. The woman follows his gaze, her playful smile faltering, then [[dropping entirely->Ancient Mirror Past Scared Off 2]].

"W-what in God's name...?" the guard whispers, stumbling back and pulling the woman with him. She doesn't resist, eyes wide with an unspoken terror, fixed on the mirror's surface. You watch as they scramble for the door, nearly tripping themselves over one another. The room falls silent once more. What...? Well, it worked. At least there's that. Confused, you feel the past receding, pulling you [[back to the present->Ancient Mirror Diorama]].

IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: true -- Your jaw clenches as the director prattles on. Every word from his mouth grates against your nerves like sandpaper. How dare he lecture about "priorities" when he couldn't tell a Bronze Age artifact from a Victorian reproduction? What an incompetent man. Heat rises from your collar as Mary simpers beside him. Of course she's nodding along, batting those eyelashes. She's only here because her uncle sits on the board, while you - with your actual degrees - are treated like a glorified cleaner. Your fingers dig into your palms. Just once, you'd like to tell them exactly what you think of their precious "cataloguing system." {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: true -- Your collar feels too tight. The exhibition opening, the duke's visit, the board's budget review, the missing acquisition paperwork - all demanding immediate attention. Your stomach churns. What if the duke is unimpressed? What if the board questions the expense reports? The paperwork. The budget. The duke. The thoughts swirl faster, each one demanding precedence. Everything must be perfect, and you are so, so tired of it. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:apoth1] Eleanor approaches the counter, one hand at her temple. [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth1] *"Good afternoon. I'd like to collect my usual medicinal, please. For the headaches."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:apoth1 newline] The shopgirl's brow furrows slightly. [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth1] *"Your usual? I don't believe we've met before, Miss...?"* [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1 id:apoth1 newline] *"Lovelace. Eleanor Lovelace. I've been coming here for months."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth1] Eleanor's voice tightens. [if ApothecaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:apoth1] *"The… um… well, I don’t recall his name, but the gentleman always assists me. Older fellow, red hair?"* [continue] [continue] [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:apoth2] The shopgirl's expression clears. [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth2] *"Ah! That would be my father. He's taken ill this week, so I'm minding the shop."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:apoth2] *"Let me check our records. Your name again?"* [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:apoth2 newline] *"Lovelace. Eleanor Lovelace."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth2] Eleanor drums her fingers on the counter, her eyes straying to the shelves. [continue] [continue] [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:apoth3] The shopgirl flips through the ledger, her finger tracing down columns of neat script. [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth3] *"Lovelace... Lovelace... ah!"* [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:apoth3 newline] Her eyes widen slightly as she reads the entry. She glances up at Eleanor, then back to the page. [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:apoth3] *"Yes, of course. Just, um… One moment, please."* [if ApothecaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth3 newline] She turns to the shelves, searching among the bottles until eventually she selects one. [continue] [continue] [if ApothecaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:apoth4] The shopgirl sets the bottle on the counter with a practiced smile. [if ApothecaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:apoth4] *"Here we are. I reckon this is what my father gave you? That will be sixpence."*

ApothecaryTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): ApothecaryTurns + 1 -- [if ApothecaryTurns < 5] You hover inside Galford's Apothecary. A counter dominates the center of the tight room, and you can spot a [[ledger->apothecary ledger]] and a [[bell->apothecary bell]] on top of it. Behind stands the [[shopgirl]], attending to [[Eleanor->Eleanor Apothecary]]. To the left, a [[waiting bench]] sits beneath a window, while the walls are lined with crowded [[shelves->apothecary shelves]]. Near the back, a small [[scale->apothecary scale]] rests on a side table, beside several framed [[certificates->apothecary certificates]]. [if ApothecaryTurns == 4] [append] A small brown [[bottle->apothecary bottle]] now sits on the counter [continue] *** [continue] {embed passage: 'Apothecary Dialogue'} [continue] [if ApothecaryTurns > 4] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the apothecary visit's conclusion->Apothecary Ending Cutscene 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Apothecary Starting Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

Eleanor tucks the bottle into her workbag, her shoulders settling as she secures the clasp. "Well, good day," she murmurs to the shopgirl, who responds with a polite nod. Eleanor steps back into the afternoon sunlight, [[and you hover along with her..->Apothecary Ending Cutscene 2]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 3 SlotThreeAttended: true ApothecaryVisited: true -- You follow her as she walks briskly away from the apothecary, her hand occasionally straying to the pocket where the bottle is currently nestled within. Her expression is one of relief, the promise of remedy already seeming to ease her discomfort. You round a corner, disappearing into the flow of pedestrians as the afternoon wears on. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

You follow Eleanor as she makes her way along the narrow street, her steps purposeful despite a slight wince creasing her brow. The painted sign of Gilford’s Apothecary swings gently overhead, its letters - though very faded - promising relief from various ailments. She adjusts her collar and steps inside. [[The bell announces her arrival.->Apothecary Starting Cutscene 2]]

ApothecaryTurns: 0 LedgerChecked: false BottleLabelSwitchSeen: false OriginalLabelSeen: false ApothecaryPregnantPast: false ApothecaryScalePast: false ApothecaryBellRung: false -- A small brass bell announces Eleanor's arrival. The interior is dim, shelves lining both walls with bottles of various shapes and sizes. Their glass surfaces catch what little light filters through the dusty windows, casting very colourful shadows across the wooden floorboards. Behind a polished counter stands a young woman with copper-red hair pinned back, arranging vials in a precise order. She looks up at Eleanor's entrance with a wide, but slightly [[annoyed smile->Apothecary Diorama]]. {reset dialogue}

RichardCompliment: true -- The words form before you can stop them. "Elllie, er... Miss Lovelace, I've been meaning to tell you..." She looks up, eyebrow raised in question, and you nearly lose your nerve. "Your expedition proposal... to Brittany. I think it's quite bold, actually. Inspired." Your voice steadies as you continue. "The board can be rather short-sighted about these things. I suggest you keep pestering them about it, that usually works with me." [[Her surprise is evident.->Appreciation Richard Persuasion 2]]

A smile warms her face. "Ah! That's so kind of you to say, Richard. Most colleagues have been rather dismissive." "Well, they're fools then. They clearly haven't read your work. No reader of yours couldn't end up sharing your curiosity on those findings. There *must* be something to be found there!" You adjust your spectacles, suddenly aware of how forward you've been. What's got into you? Get back to work. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if isPast] {embed passage: 'IsPast Page Layout Logic'} [if isMind] {embed passage: 'IsMind Page Layout Logic'} [unless isPast; unless isMind] {embed passage: 'Ch.2 Normal Page Layout Logic'} [continue]

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IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: true -- Each word from your mouth carries weight. The board respects you. The staff fears you. This museum exists because of your will alone. These meetings waste time you don't have. A man in your position shouldn't need to explain himself. A simple directive should suffice. They should anticipate your needs. Sometimes you wonder if anyone else is truly qualified to make decisions about *your* institution. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You cradle the canopic jar, marveling at its craftsmanship. Even after years of study, these treasures still fill you with wonder. "Miss Lovelace, look at the artistry here - the hieroglyphs indicate this belonged to a priest of Anubis." Your voice rises with enthusiasm. "Can you imagine? Three thousand years, and we can still read his name." You trail off, suddenly self-conscious, but she nods, and her smile doesn't seem to be mocking you either. How nice of her. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor pauses before the bakery's large display window, its glass fogged from the heat within. Behind the steamy barrier, a vast array of pastries and breads are arranged in neat rows, their golden-brown surfaces glistening in the light of the shop's interior. The scent of fresh baking escapes when the door opens for a departing customer. She hesitates, glancing at her pocket watch briefly before straightening her shoulders and stepping toward the entrance, one hand unconsciously brushing against her waistcoat where it pulls slightly across her. [[The bell rings, announcing her entrance.->Bakery Cutscene 2]]

The bakery's interior is warm, and given the amount of customers, you can guess it’s not uncomfortably so. Glass display cases line the walls, filled with an assortment of temptations: flaky croissants, oozing custard tarts, and plump meat pies resting beneath heat lamps. The shopkeeper, a big man with flour dusting his beard, nods as Eleanor approaches the counter. *"Miss Lovelace! Not seen you this past fortnight. Was getting worried!"* he calls cheerfully, already reaching for a paper bag. Eleanor smiles, but her gaze wanders beyond him to a tray of freshly arranged pastries, their tops glistening with [[honey glaze->Bakery Cutscene 3]].

DayCalories: DayCalories + 3 SlotTwoAttended: true -- *"The usual, yes,"* Eleanor begins, *"wait, actually..."* Her eyes linger on the new display. *"What are those? I don't believe I've seen them before."* The baker's eyes light up. *"Just arrived from the continent! Filled with almond cream and apricot, quite the delicacy."* He leans closer, conspirationally. *"Reserved a few specially when I saw the delivery. Thought they might appeal to... a woman of taste!"* Eleanor's cheeks flush slightly. *"Ah, you're too kind. And if that’s the case, I simply must take two of those as well, then."* The meat pie and two pastries are carefully wrapped and exchanged for coins. Eleanor clutches the warm package to her chest, the paper already developing translucent spots from [[the butter inside of it->Bakery Cutscene 4]].

Eleanor settles at a small iron table in the corner, partially hidden from street view by a potted fern. Carefully unfolding the wrapping, she reveals her lunch: a substantial meat pie. She eats methodically at first, cutting neat forkfuls and dabbing her lips after each bite. You can feel that the savory filling quiets the persistent hunger she's felt all morning, though she catches herself glancing toward the wrapped pastries with increasing frequency. [[By the time the pie is finished, her composure has noticeably relaxed.->Bakery Cutscene 5]]

The pastries - which you assumed were meant for late - disappear with considerably less restraint than the pie. Flakes of buttery dough cling to Eleanor's fingers as she devours first one, then after only the briefest hesitation, the second. The almond cream filling is sweet but not cloying, perfectly complemented by the tart apricot. She finds herself close to licking her fingers before propriety reasserts itself, and she reaches for her handkerchief instead. Afterwards, she sits for a moment, one hand resting lightly against her straining waistcoat. Her breathing has deepened, and she allows herself a moment to simply exist in the pleasant fullness before gathering her things. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to return to work.'} [note] we could have that final paragraph be different based on her weight stage. [continue]

ApothecaryBellRung: true -- You focus on the bell, sending vibrations through its brass surface. It begins to shake subtly before letting out a clear, bright chime that cuts through the shop's quiet atmosphere. Almost immediately, a muffled voice calls from below: "*Ah, a customer! Coming up, just a moment!*" The shopgirl's eyes widen. She glances nervously at Eleanor before forcing a smile. "These old buildings... drafts everywhere." She adjusts her position, moving slightly to block the counter's edge before calling out towards the floor, "No need, pa! I’ve got it!" {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DateProposed: true -- [if SweetsEaten < 3] Richard's unexpected compliment lingers pleasantly in your thoughts. He's always been so absorbed in his work - to have him notice yours feels surprisingly gratifying. The pastries seem like a natural excuse to extend this moment of connection. You make your way to the cart, selecting two cream-filled buns. "Richard," you call softly, approaching him with an offering, "come now, take one. I doubt you've eaten anything since morning." He looks up, startled but pleased, accepting the pastry with stained fingers. "Oh, how thoughtful of you. Thank you." His smile is genuine, if [[slightly awkward->Bonding Persuasion 2]]. [if SweetsEaten >= 2] Richard's unexpected compliment lingers pleasantly in your thoughts. He's always been so absorbed in his work - to have him notice yours feels surprisingly gratifying. You glance at the decimated refreshment cart, only a few sad pastries remaining. "Richard," you call, your voice slightly breathless from the accumulated sweets, "you should have one before they're all gone." You tap your fingers lightly against your distended stomach, feeling how taut it's become beneath your loosened clothing. "I have been a bit... enthusiastic... but in my defence they are quite good!" He looks up, startled but pleased, accepting the pastry with stained fingers. "Oh, how thoughtful of you. Thank you." His smile is genuine, if[[slightly awkward->Bonding Persuasion 2]].

DateProposed: true -- [if SweetsEaten < 3] As you both eat, you find yourself saying, "Perhaps we could continue our discussions over dinner sometime? Your theories on... um... dynasty markers! Fascinating." The words surprise you almost as much as they surprise him - behind his smudged lenses his eyes widen momentarily. "Well I... I'd like that very much, Ellie." [if SweetsEaten >= 2] As you watch him take a bite, you find yourself saying, "Perhaps we could continue our discussions over... well, not lunch, I clearly had more than enough already. Perhaps dinner sometime? Your theories on... um... dynasty markers! Fascinating." The words surprise you almost as much as they surprise him - behind his smudged lenses his eyes widen momentarily. "Ah! Yes, quite, I mean, well, um... yes. Yes, I'd like that very much, Ellie." [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

BottleLabelSwitchSeen: true --

You watch it tumble, striking the marble floor with a clang that echoes through the wing. The guard freezes, eyes darting to the security office down the hall. When no footsteps come, he scoops up the helmet. You catch a glint off of the fresh dent as he rotates it, positioning the damage toward the velvet cushion. He licks his thumb and promptly brushes it against the material, leaving it spotless... but still dented. "Bloody ghosts..." he hisses, adjusting the angle three times before stepping back. The guard heads into another room, and with a snap, you find yourself back in the present. {link to: 'bronze helmet', label: 'Back'}

AmphoraState: 'broken' MarbleBustsFallen: true -- As you cross through, the busts, a soft vibration follows you through the polished plinth. Barely perceptible... until it isn't. One of the busts wobbles, its base scraping subtly against the wood. Then another. The first tumbles forward, striking the next like a slow, deliberate domino. A cascade of sculpted faces leans, then falls over the next - plaster against plaster, then against something [[much more important->Empty Busts falling down 2]].

AmphoraState: 'teetering' MarbleBustsFallen: true -- As you cross through, the busts, a soft vibration follows you through the polished plinth. Barely perceptible... until it isn't. One of the busts wobbles, its base scraping subtly against the wood. Then another. The first tumbles forward, striking the next like a slow, deliberate domino. A cascade of sculpted faces leans, then falls over the next - plaster against plaster, then against something [[much more important->Full Busts falling down 2]].

[if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] The fresh page is pristine, save for a reminder about the meeting you just attended penciled in the morning slot. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] Yesterday's page has been torn away, revealing Tuesday's appointments - all blank. A small note in the margin reads "Remember Polish exhibits". [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] The mid-week page bears Eleanor's frustrated pencil marks where she's crossed out and rewritten several deadlines. The paper is slightly crinkled from previous erasures. [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] Thursday's page contains only a single notation - "New shipment of artifacts due". Eleanor has drawn a small, anxious face beside it. [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] The final workday's page is nearly empty. On the weekend section, Eleanor has written "REST" in large, hopeful letters, then underlined it twice.

You drift toward the imposing brass-framed doors, drawn by the bustle of the street visible through the glass panels. You attempt to pass through, to follow the departing pedestrians... But an unseen barrier halts your progress. A familiar resistance, an invisible tether, binds you firmly within the museum walls, and to Eleanor herself. It seems you don’t have the strength to stray far from her, not even for a little. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: true -- You giggle at nothing in particular, twirling a curl around your finger. Everyone always says you light up a room! What were they discussing again? Something about artifacts and budget concerns - so dreadfully dull... A bright smile and cheerful demeanor can carry one through the most tedious of obligations. Besides, no one actually expects you to contribute anything of substance today, which is rather convenient. Though you so wished to be picked for that expedition... it's not fair! {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: true -- You tighten your grip on the clipboard, knuckles whitening. These... amateurs. None of them deserve to handle artifacts of such historical significance. Ten years of meticulous study wasted on cataloging for this circus. It's all an act anyways, but still. Your mouth tightens into a thin line as you observe them, mentally cataloging each error, each moment of incompetence. You alone understand the true value of this artefacts. Their casual disregard is nothing short of… sacrilege. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You study the woman before you, noting her full cheeks and the way her waistcoat strains. Father's "headache remedy" has clearly been working… though she seems unaware. Most customers gain steadily without noticing, attributing it to comfort eating or city stress - there was this one lady who thought she was pregnant, too. This one must be six or seven bottles in by now! How stupid can she be? Maybe you should say something? Ah! That’s a good one. *Who cares?* {plainlink to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

<div class="time-heading">TWILIGHT HOUR</div> {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'} [unless EleanorMine > 1; unless SocietyBallAttended] The afternoon light begins to soften as Eleanor makes her way through the familiar streets. The city around you both grows quieter as evening approaches, gas lamps beginning their gentle hiss in preparation for dusk. For these past hours, you have managed to pull your consciousness away from the vessel's confines, drifting alongside your owner through her afternoon pursuits. But you feel that tenuous freedom beginning to waver. [[You are fading away.->Day End cutscene 2]] [continue] [if EleanorMine > 1; unless EleanorMine == 4; unless SocietyBallAttended] The afternoon light begins to soften at the two of you make your way through the familiar streets. The city grows quieter as evening approaches, gas lamps beginning their gentle hiss in preparation for dusk. For these past hours, you have managed to pull your consciousness away from the vessel's confines, drifting alongside *your Eleanor* through her afternoon pursuits. But you feel that tenuous freedom beginning to waver. [[You are fading away.->Day End cutscene 2]] [continue] [if SocietyBallAttended] The carriage wheels clatter against cobblestones as it carries Eleanor away from the scene of her humiliation. You feel the weight of her shame, the burn of embarrassment that seems to radiate from her very being. But even in defeat, you feel that tenuous connection to her consciousness beginning to waver as the familiar pull of the vessel grows stronger. [[You are fading away.->Day End cutscene 2]] [if EleanorMine == 4; unless SocietyBallAttended] The afternoon light begins to darken as Eleanor makes her way through all of these dangerous streets. The city grows restless as evening approaches, gas lamps hissing in preparation for dusk. Eleanor's fingers brush against the small statuette in her coat pocket - she has been carrying it with her today. How can you blame her? The museum is so eerly quiet now. Her lucky charm. [[Your vessel.->Day End Passage Alt]]

[unless SocietyBallAttended] {embed passage: 'Weight Gained and Day Calories (fullness) day end texts'} [if SocietyBallAttended] {embed passage: 'Weight Gained and Day Calories (fullness) day end texts when returning from Ball Event Humiliation ending'} [continue] [unless EleanorMine == 4] [[That is the last thing you see before fading away entirely.->Next Day Name]] [if EleanorMine == 4] *This time around, [[you are not going anywhere.->Chapter 2 All Mine Ending 1]]*

[unless passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'; unless isCutscene == true; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {link to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Abilities'} [if passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [if isCutscene == true] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'; unless isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [continue] [unless passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'; if isCutscene; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Settings'] {save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} [if passage.name == 'Abilities Menu'] {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Settings'} [continue]

IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: true -- You catalog the room's occupants dispassionately: an incompetent director, the nepotism case, and a woman too obsessed on her own little project to focus on real scholarship. Their chatter is meaningless, their concerns trivial. None of them understand what truly matters. How could they? The artifacts will remain long after all of you are dust. That's what deserves your attention - not this petty institutional theatre. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:broken1] The director pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:broken1] *Wonderful.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken1] *Absolutely wonderful.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:broken1] *Just what I needed today.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken1 newline] Ms. Whitlock adjusts her glasses. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:broken1] *I did mention the risk of leaving it out.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:broken1] *We should have placed a glass case around it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:broken1 newline] *Not. Now.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken1] the director snaps. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:broken2] The director shakes his head. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:broken2] *I don't have time for this.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:broken2] *Clean it up, sort it out - whatever you people do.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken2] He waves a dismissive hand, already turning on his heel. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:broken2] *I've a board meeting at the Athenaeum.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2 id:broken2] *If the museum burns down in my absence, don't bother warning me about it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:broken2 newline] Mary watches him leave, then clasps her hands together. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:broken2] *So! That went well.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:broken2] *Except for the amphora of course, silly me.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:broken2] *Ah, and the busts, too...*

[if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:drunk1] Mary leans in with an approving smile. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:drunk1] *Ah, good thinking, Eleanor!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:drunk1 newline] *I suppose that's... one way to do it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:drunk1] The director eyes the amphora warily, as if expecting further disaster. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:drunk1 newline] Eleanor straightens, swaying slightly, and offers him a tipsy but satisfied nod. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:drunk2] Mary claps her hands together. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:drunk2 newline] The director exhales, looking at the amphora, then Eleanor, then back at the amphora. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:drunk2] *Right. Well. That's one way to handle it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:drunk2] Without another word, he turns on his heel. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:drunk2] *I've a board meeting at the Athenaeum.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2 id:drunk2] *If the museum burns down in my absence, don't bother warning me about it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:drunk2 newline] Eleanor straightens, swaying slightly.

[if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teeter1] The amphora wobbles precariously in Eleanor's grip, the weight shifting with each unsteady motion. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:teeter1] *Just hold it there,* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teeter1] the director says sharply, his watch snapping shut. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter1] *We only just acquired the damn thing.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter1] *It's been here less than a week!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:teeter1 newline] Ms. Whitlock adjusts her glasses. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter1] *As I said, we should have emptied it beforehand.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:teeter1 newline] *Not. Now.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if IntroMeetingTurns < 5; dialogue delay:1 id:teeter1] The director doesn't look at her. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teeter2] The director exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter2] *Well, I'm sure you can sort this out.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teeter2] His tone is flat, resigned. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:teeter2] He's already halfway to the exit. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teeter2] *I've a board meeting at the Athenaeum.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2 id:teeter2] *If the museum burns down in my absence, don't bother warning me about it.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1 id:teeter2 newline] Mary watches him go, then glances at Eleanor. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teeter2] *...need any help?*

The Director maintains a perfect 90° posture behind his desk. His frock coat is immaculate, his cravat precisely knotted. His fingers rest lightly on the closed ledger before him. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] His gaze is sharp and assessing as he listens to Eleanor, occasionally making a brief note. His expression is professionally neutral, revealing little of his thoughts. He takes a small bite from a sandwich - he doesn’t look to be particularly hungry. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] His gaze lingers on Eleanor's figure for a moment longer than necessary before flicking back to her face. There's a subtle stiffness in his already very formal posture, a hint of discomfort. He avoids looking directly at her for too long, instead focusing on the papers on his desk. He has yet to touch his lunch. [continue] {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Director Lunch persuasion menu]] [continue]

A curt "*Enter*" sounds from inside. Eleanor pushes the heavy door open, stepping into the Director's office. The office is large, dominated by a massive mahogany desk clear of all but a blotter, an inkwell set, and a single, leather-bound ledger. The Director sits behind them, examining a document. He glances up, his expression neutral - perhaps a bit bored -, gesturing towards the chair opposite him. A silver tray with a covered dish and a single glass sits beside his ledger. "Miss Lovelace. Punctual, I see. That's new, isn’t it? [[Please, sit.->Director Lunch Cutscene 2]]"

DirectorLunchTurns: 0 DirectorFocused: false DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded: false DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony: false DirectorFocused: false DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: false DirectorKnockedOut: 0 DeskPastSeen: false MapPastSeen: false -- Eleanor takes the offered seat, perching on the edge of the hard leather. The Director makes a small note on his document before setting it aside. "I trust your morning has been productive?" he asks, his eyes briefly scanning her appearance before returning to his desk. He lifts the silver cloche on the tray, revealing two small, precisely cut sandwiches and a slice of plain cake. "A working lunch. Help yourself." Eleanor murmurs a polite thanks, though her attention is fixed on the notes in her lap. He already knows what she's here for. [[The Director clears his throat - the meeting begins now.->Director Lunch Diorama]] {reset dialogue}

[if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH1] The Director gestures vaguely toward the tray, avoiding direct eye contact for more than a second. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH1] *"Ah, Miss Lovelace. Settled in? Good, good."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH1] He fiddles with his inkwell. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH1] *"You seem... well. Keeping healthy, I trust?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH1 newline] Eleanor shifts uncomfortably, pulling her notes closer. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH1] *"Quite well, thank you, sir. About the Breton proposal..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH2] He clears his throat, his gaze drifting to the maps on the wall. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH2] *"Yes, the proposal. An ambitious undertaking. Requires significant... exertion. Fieldwork can be quite taxing, you know."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH2] *"Particularly in remote locations. Unpredictable conditions."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH2 newline] Eleanor straightens her shoulders. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH2] *"That’s… true, but I am fully prepared for the physical demands, sir. My research indicates the potential rewards far outweigh the difficulties."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH3] The Director leans back, steepling his fingers. His tone becomes softer, almost paternal. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH3] *"Miss Lovelace... Eleanor. One must consider all factors. Health. Stamina. The... *appropriateness* of such strenuous activity at certain times."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH3] *"Perhaps a less demanding project would be more suitable for the present?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH3 newline] Eleanor frowns, confused by his hesitation. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH3] *"Sir? I assure you, I am perfectly capable. My research..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH4] He sighs, looking genuinely troubled, but still avoids the core issue. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH4] *"Yes, your research is... compelling. However, the timing... the Board has concerns about... resource allocation."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH4] *"I'm afraid funding for new expeditions is simply not feasible at this juncture. Perhaps next year."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchH4] He offers a weak, apologetic smile. [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchH5] The Director stands, eager to conclude the awkward meeting. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH5] *"My apologies, Miss Lovelace. My decision is final for now. Do take care of yourself."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH5] He turns pointedly back to his desk ledger. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchH5 newline] Eleanor rises slowly, her face flushed with frustration and confusion. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchH5] *"I... see. Thank you for your time, sir."* [continue] [continue]

[if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD1] The Director gestures vaguely toward the tray, his eyes momentarily flicking towards the window. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD1] *"Now, Miss Lovelace. Your... Breton project, was it? Yes. We spoke briefly."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD1 newline] Eleanor leans forward, clutching her notes. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD1] *"Yes, sir. My preliminary findings suggest a significant, previously undocumented cultural presence. The artifacts..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD2] He nods absently, adjusting his cravat. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD2] *"Mmm. Artifacts. Quite. Always artifacts."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLD2] He seems to be thinking about something else entirely. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.0 id:dirLunchLD2] *"The cost, of course... expeditions are never inexpensive."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD2 newline] Eleanor presses on, trying to regain his attention. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD2] *"I understand, sir. I've prepared a detailed cost analysis..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD3] The Director stares blankly at his ledger. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLD3] *"Budgets. Always budgets. A necessary evil, isn’t it?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD3] He taps his pen rhythmically. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLD3] *"Leave the proposal with me, Miss Lovelace. I'll... review it when time permits."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD3 newline] Eleanor hesitates, sensing his lack of engagement. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD3] *"Sir, the findings are potentially groundbreaking..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD4] He glances at the clock, seeming relieved. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD4] *"Yes, yes. Groundbreaking. All in good time."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLD4] *"Well, then, I have another appointment. We must conclude this for the moment being."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLD5] The Director stands abruptly. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD5] *"Thank you for... bringing this matter forward. Good day."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLD5 newline] Eleanor slowly gathers her notes, clearly annoyed by his disinterest. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLD5] *"Well, yes. Good day, sir."* [continue] [continue]

[if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF1] The Director focuses his attention, setting aside his previous distractions. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF1] *"Right then, Miss Lovelace. Your Breton expedition. Present your case."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF1] His gaze is sharp, assessing. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF1 newline] Eleanor, seizing the opportunity, launches into her proposal. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF1] *"Thank you, sir. The confluence of artifact styles and the unique symbology strongly suggests..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF2] He listens intently, nodding occasionally. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF2] *"And the budget?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLF2] He leans forward slightly, examining her figures. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF2 newline] Eleanor indicates specific lines in her proposal. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF2] *"Yes, sir, so… primarily travel, basic lodging, and local guides for the initial survey. No expensive equipment needed at this stage."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF3] The Director strokes his chin thoughtfully. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLF3] *"It remains a risk. The academic community is skeptical of such... outliers."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF3] *"However... the potential for a truly unique discovery cannot be dismissed, isn’t that right?"* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF3 newline] Eleanor holds her breath, sensing a possible opening. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF3] *"Exactly, sir. A chance to put this institution at the forefront of..."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF4] He cuts her off with a raised hand, but not unkindly. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF4] *"Very well, Miss Lovelace. Your passion is... noted."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLF4] *"I cannot approve the full amount requested. The Board would never stand for it. But... I am prepared to allocate a small discretionary fund for a preliminary, *brief* survey."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.2 id:dirLunchLF4] *"Consider it... seed funding. Contingent on a detailed report within six weeks."* [continue] [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:dirLunchLF5] The Director makes a notation in his ledger. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF5] *"That is my final offer. Make good use of it."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF5] He closes the ledger with a decisive snap. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:dirLunchLF5 newline] Eleanor beams, relief washing over her. [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:dirLunchLF5] *"Oh, thank you, sir! You won't regret this! I promise a thorough..."* [if DirectorLunchTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:dirLunchLF5] *"Yes, yes, I get it. Just ensure the paperwork is meticulous. Good day."* [continue] [continue]

DirectorLunchTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): DirectorLunchTurns + 1 -- [if DirectorLunchTurns <= 5] You hover within the Director's imposing office. Tall [[bookshelves->bookshelves director]] filled with matching volumes line the wall behind a large mahogany [[desk->desk director]]. Framed [[maps and charters->maps and charters director]] hang on the other walls. [[Eleanor->Eleanor Director Lunch]] sits opposite the [[Director->Director Director Lunch]], who presides over the desk. Between them sits a [[silver lunch tray]]. *** [continue] [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] {embed passage: 'Director Lunch Dialogue (High Weight)'} [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; unless DirectorFocused] {embed passage: 'Director Lunch Dialogue (Low Weight Distracted)'} [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DirectorFocused] {embed passage: 'Director Lunch Dialogue (Low Weight Focused)'} [continue] [if DirectorLunchTurns > 5] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the meeting's conclusion->Director Lunch Ending 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Director Lunch Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

SlotTwoAttended: true LunchWithDirector: true DayCalories (DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded): DayCalories + 3 DayCalories (!DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded): DayCalories + 1 ExpeditionFunds (DirectorFocused): ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- Eleanor exits the Director's office, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Her cheeks are flushed, her lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. She grips her proposal notes tightly, the paper crinkling in her fist. It's understandable: from her point of view, the director must've appeared as if he hadn't even tried to listen to her, making vague excuses about timing and resources while pointedly avoiding the real issue - whatever *that* was. It was, you have to admit, infuriatingly dismissive. She storms down the corridor, her mind racing with indignation. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Her cheeks are flushed, her lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. She grips her proposal notes tightly, the paper crinkling in her fist. It's understandable: from her point of view, the director must've appeared as if he hadn't even tried to listen to her, making vague excuses about timing and resources while pointedly avoiding the real issue - whatever *that* was. It was, you have to admit, infuriatingly dismissive. She storms down the corridor, her mind racing with indignation. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Her cheeks are flushed, her lips pressed into a thin line of frustration. She grips her proposal notes tightly, the paper crinkling in her fist. It's understandable: from her point of view, the director must've appeared as if he hadn't even tried to listen to her, making vague excuses about timing and resources while pointedly avoiding the real issue - whatever *that* was. It was, you have to admit, infuriatingly dismissive. She storms down the corridor, her mind racing with indignation. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; unless DirectorFocused] Eleanor's expression is crestfallen, shoulders slumped. He barely paid attention. His mind was clearly elsewhere. A dismissal, really: just vague platitudes about reviewing it 'when time permits'. A polite rejection. You follow her as she walks slowly back toward her office, discouraged. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; unless DirectorFocused] Eleanor's expression is crestfallen, shoulders slumped. He barely paid attention. His mind was clearly elsewhere. A dismissal, really: just vague platitudes about reviewing it 'when time permits'. A polite rejection. You follow her as she walks slowly back toward her office, discouraged. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DirectorFocused] A broad smile lights up Eleanor's face, a stark contrast to her earlier tension. Partial funding! It wasn't everything, but it's a start, isn't it? Perhaps enough for the preliminary survey. She clutches her notes, already planning her next steps, practically skipping back down the corridor. [continue] [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DirectorFocused] A broad smile lights up Eleanor's face, a stark contrast to her earlier tension. Partial funding! It wasn't everything, but it's a start, isn't it? Perhaps enough for the preliminary survey. She clutches her notes, already planning her next steps, practically skipping back down the corridor. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the director's mind. You start to hear his inner thoughts - ordered, but prone to wandering towards personal matters. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**FOCUS**->Director Persuasion Focus]] *This proposal... requires proper attention. Set aside distractions. Assess the merits.* ➼[[**FINANCES**->Director Persuasion Finances]] *Budgets, endowments, expenditures... Every penny counts. Can the museum afford this?* ➼[[**DISTRACTION**->Director Persuasion Family]] *Must remember Henrietta's piano recital tonight. And that bill from the tailor...* [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the director's mind. You start to hear his inner thoughts - ordered, but there’s a clear discomfort between them. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**CONCERN**->Director Persuasion Concern]] *A delicate condition. An expedition? Utterly irresponsible! Must protect the mother and... well. Avoid undue stress.* ➼[[**LIABILITY**->Director Persuasion Liability]] *Sending her out like this... what if something happened? The scandal! The museum's reputation... Unthinkable.* ➼[[**AVOIDANCE**->Director Persuasion Avoidance]] *This is highly improper. Must end this meeting gracefully. Postpone, deflect. Cannot address... *that* directly.* [if DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded] His thoughts now possess a subtle insistence, coloured by your earlier influence. Further interference feels unnecessary, perhaps even risky. Best to observe the currents you've already set in motion. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- This conversation is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Her insistence, her... visible condition. It's highly irregular. One must maintain a crumb of decorum. Just… just go along with it. Address the proposal on its supposed merits - budget, feasibility - while sidestepping the obvious. Find a plausible reason to delay, to deny. Avoid any direct mention of... personal matters. Yes. Yes, focus on procedure and finances. That's the proper way. And by jove, **stop looking at her belly**. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- You don’t wont too, but can't help but notice her condition. The strained clothing, the slight breathlessness... it's unmistakable. A woman in her delicate state undertaking strenuous fieldwork? Preposterous. Irresponsible! What’s gotten into her? The physical demands, the potential hazards... it's simply not appropriate. One must think of the mother, the... well, the circumstances. Protecting her well-being, ensuring she avoids unnecessary stress, is paramount. The expedition is out of the question. Absolutely not. No chance. But for the love of god, don’t say it out loud. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- Henrietta was quite insistent you attend her recital this evening. Seven o'clock sharp. Where did she get this obsession from, anyway? Ah, wait… Didn't Mrs. Whitlock mention something about the leaky roof in the East Wing again? This building is a mess. She also complained about the light in the basement, didn’t she? What do we even need light for in there, anyway? Just grab a candle, I say. Then there's that tailor... audacious pricing. Must draft a stern letter later. So many small demands on one's time. Hard to focus on… what would this be? Archaeology? Yes. Hard to focus on archaeology at a time like this. This proposal... yes, Lovelace... right. Where were we? {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- An expedition... the costs mount quickly. Always do. Travel, lodging, local labour, equipment, potential restoration fees... It all adds up. Where would the funds come from? You don’t really want to think about it. The contingency budget is thin. And donations have been slow. Can the institution truly justify such an expense on speculative research? Financially irresponsible, given our current constraints. A firm "no" might be the only prudent answer… or is it? God, what a headache today has already proven to be. Just get through this, you’ll be home in no time. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorFocused: true DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- Alright, you know what? You've got to get a hold of yourself. Back to the matter at hand. Lovelace is waiting. Clear your mind - Henrietta’s recital can wait, the tailor’s bill is very, very irrelevant. Breath in, breath out... ...there you are. This proposal deserves unbiased consideration based purely on its potential contribution to the museum's collection and reputation - examine the costs, weigh the academic value, give it your full attention; as duty requires. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: true -- Imagine the repercussions if something were to happen to her on this expedition, *especially* in her current... situation. An accident, illness... the press would have a field day. "Museum Endangers Expectant Curator!" Gah! The scandal would be immense. Irreparable damage to the institution's standing. Your oversight would be questioned, wouldn’t it? Of course it would. No, the risk is far too great. Denying the request is the only responsible course of action to protect the museum. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PocketWatchOfficeHint: true -- *"Well then,"* he continues as he first adjusts his black coat, then reaches for his pocket watch. *"We were waiting for you, you know that? I know there's fewer of us at the moment, but I keep telling you - that's no excuse! You have two minutes to reach us in the left wing. Do try to be punctual."* He doesn’t wait for a reply, opting to just turn on his heel and stride out instead. You hear a sigh of frustration from Eleanor, who, as she has a look at the time, [[decides to return to the ledgers she was inspecting.->Office]]

IntroMeetingTurns: 0 AmphoraState: 'base' MarbleBustsFallen: false BronzeHelmetPastFallen: false IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: false IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: false IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: false IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: false PersuasionAbility: true PastryCartVisible: false TriedVibratingTheAmphoraInThePresent: false -- Eleanor strides into the left wing's exhibition hall, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The room is dimly lit, with glass cases displaying Mediterranean artifacts casting long shadows. [[The air smells faintly of old wood->Director cutscene 3.5]]. {reset dialogue}

The director from before stands near a display, his tall frame silhouetted against the soft glow of a nearby lamp. He's not alone: you recognize Mary, her hands clasped behind her back, examining a bronze statuette as it had just got there. There's also what you assume is another other curator - a woman, no more the age of the other two, with a severe bun and a clipboard, currently scribbling notes in the margins of a report. Eleanor adjusts her waistcoat, the fabric straining slightly as she takes a deep breath. The director glances up, his sharp eyes narrowing as he checks his pocket watch. "Ah, there you are," he says, his voice echoing in the quiet hall. "We were just about to start. Someone has got to keep things moving around here, [[expeditions to the moluccas be damned.->Intro Meeting Diorama]]"

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'base'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the director's mind. You start to hear his inner thoughts, rigid and authoritative, wrapped in layers of bureaucratic protocol. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**IMPATIENCE**->Impatience Director Intro Meeting]] *I regret calling this meeting, these trivial matters waste my valuable time...* ➼[[**AUTHORITY**->Authority Director Intro Meeting]] *This museum is mine to command. No one challenges my decisions.* ➼[[**ANXIETY**->Anxiety Director Intro Meeting]] *The budget report is due tomorrow. The duke visits today. The exhibition opens next week. Too much, too fast...* [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'saved'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the director's mind. You start to hear his inner thoughts, rigid and authoritative, wrapped in layers of bureaucratic protocol. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**IMPATIENCE**->Impatience Director Intro Meeting]] *I regret calling this meeting, these trivial matters waste my valuable time...* ➼[[**AUTHORITY**->Authority Director Intro Meeting]] *This museum is mine to command. No one challenges my decisions.* ➼[[**ANXIETY**->Anxiety Director Intro Meeting]] *The budget report is due tomorrow. The duke visits today. The exhibition opens next week. Too much, too fast...* [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'broken'] The director's mind is now fixated on the broken amphora. His frustration creates a barrier your influence cannot penetrate. [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] The director's confusion and surprise over Eleanor's sudden inebriation creates a mental static your influence cannot penetrate. [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] The director's focus is entirely on the precarious amphora. His concentration creates a barrier your influence cannot breach. [continue] [if IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion] The director's mind has become guarded after your previous influence. You sense no opportunity for further manipulation. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

RichardCompliment: false RichardFullDoubt: true -- You force your attention back to the catalog in your hands. This is inappropriate - focusing on a colleague when there's important work to be done. Besides, she's only being friendly. Professional. What could someone like Eleanor possibly see in you, anyhow? She's brilliant, ambitious - pursuing her own research while you just hop from one to another, with no real goal. No, better to maintain distance. Safer that way. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit1] Eleanor approaches one of the display cases, studying the hieroglyphics on a small statuette. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"This arrangement is fascinating, Richard. Will you be grouping by dynasty or function?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit1 newline] He glances up from his notes, blinking as if pulled from a trance. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"Oh! Well, um... by dynasty primarily, yes, though I've been considering a separate case for funerary items..."* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit2] Eleanor lifts a fragmentary papyrus, her brow furrowing. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit2] *"This restoration is quite remarkable. Was it done here?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit2 newline] Richard carefully places a canopic jar on its stand. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit2] *"Well, lets see here... no, this one was certainly done in Cairo. My colleague Professor Mahmoud has a particular gift for it."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:exhibit2] He hesitates, focusing on Eleanor for a moment before quickly looking away. [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit3] Richard adjusts his spectacles, unrolling a diagram of the exhibition layout. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] *"If we move these display cases, we could create a more natural flow..."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3 newline] Eleanor nods. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit3] *"Yes, that works much better. The lighting will draw visitors this way."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] She pauses, dabbing her forehead with a handkerchief. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3] *"It's rather warm in here, isn't it?"* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit4] Eleanor adjusts the angle of a small statue of Anubis. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit4] *"There. Much more imposing this way."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit4 newline] Richard glances at her work, then back to his notes. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] *"Um, you... you have quite an eye for presentation, Miss Lovelace."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] He quickly returns to his work, not daring to wait for a response. [continue] [continue]

The artifacts are arranged in careful groups on brown paper-covered tables - some still half-wrapped in protective cloth. You spot an alabaster [[canopic jar]] with a jackal-headed stopper. [if AmuletsState == 'intact'; append] Nearby rests a collection of [[amulets]] in... varying states of preservation? [continue] A [[scroll case]] sits on the floor, propped up on a table's legs, while a small [[statuette]] sits above the latter. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Statuette of Taweret [continue]

The northwest wing stretches before you, its walls lined with half-assembled display cases. Wooden crates bearing shipping labels from Cairo lie open on the floor, their contents aphazardly placed around the space and covered in brown paper. A man stands in the middle of this mess, his spectacles sliding down his nose as he examines an alabaster jar. He's tall, with a neatly trimmed beard, clearly lost in their work. This must the Egyptologist Eleanor mentions in her notes - the one in charge of curating this wing. [[Eleanor approaches, clearing her throat softly.->Egyptian Exhibition Diorama 2]]

ExhibitDioramaTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): ExhibitDioramaTurns + 1 -- [if ExhibitDioramaTurns < 5] The northwest exhibition hall is currently a mess. Half-assembled [[display cases]] line the walls, while tables covered in brown paper hold a fair amount of [[artifacts->Egypt artefacts]]. A series of [[sarcophagi]] stand along the far wall. [unless RichardTrapped] [[Richard->Richard Exhibition]] weaves in-between the displays, his sleeves rolled up and a pencil tucked behind his ear. [append] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Exhibition]] stands nearby, comparing notes with a curatorial ledger. Near the entrance is a small [[cart]] laden with pastries, tea, and small sandwiches. *** [continue] [unless RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardTrapped] {embed passage: 'Egypt Exhibition Dialogue'} [if RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardTrapped] {embed passage: 'RichardFullDoubt Dialogue'} [if RichardFullDoubt; if RichardTrapped] {embed passage: 'RichardTrapped Dialogue'} [unless RichardFullDoubt; if RichardTrapped] {embed passage: 'RichardTrapped Dialogue'} [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 4] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the exhibition's conclusion->Egyptian Exhibition Ending 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this scene over from the beginning->Egyptian Exhibition Diorama 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

ExhibitDioramaTurns: 0 SweetsEaten: 0 RichardCompliment: false DateProposed: false RichardFullDoubt: false RichardTrapped: false AmuletsState: 'intact' AmuletsPastSeen: false -- Richard jumps. "Ahh! Oh, dear god, it's just you, Eleanor. I... I didn't hear you come in." Eleanor offers a smile, gesturing to the notes in her hand. "I thought you might appreciate some assistance, Richard. The director mentioned the exhibition opens next week?" He nods, seemingly relieved. "Yes, well, that would be the plan, correct. I've... well, I've been sorting through these artifacts since dawn. In retrospective I should have called for some kind of help days ago..." He gestures toward a table near the wall. "There's a cart with tea and pastries if you'd like. The museum board sent them over... around 6 o'clock, I think? I wasn't really paying attention." Eleanor's eyes dart briefly to the [[cart->Egyptian Exhibition Diorama]]. {reset dialogue}

DayCalories (SweetsEaten == 1): DayCalories + 1 DayCalories (SweetsEaten == 2): DayCalories + 2 DayCalories (SweetsEaten == 3): DayCalories + 3 DayCalories (SweetsEaten == 4): DayCalories + 4 EleanorMine (RichardTrapped == true): EleanorMine + 1 SlotOneAttended: true -- [unless RichardTrapped; unless RichardFullDoubt] As the midday light comes in from the exhibition hall, you float back to survey their progress. The once-chaotic space is... still quite messy, but you can see the beginnings of a proper exhibition, with a lot more of the artifacts now meaningfully arranged and labeled. Richard removes his spectacles, rubbing tired eyes. "Yes, look at what we've done! I cannot thank you enough, Ellie." [if SweetsEaten >= 2; unless RichardTrapped; unless RichardFullDoubt] Eleanor shifts her position, her overindulgence making itself known with a subtle pressure against her waistcoat. "It was my pleasure," she replies, avoiding direct eye contact with the now diminished refreshment cart. [if DateProposed; unless RichardTrapped; unless RichardFullDoubt] "And about that dinner..." Richard begins hesitantly. "Perhaps one of these evenings? The Blue Lion has excellent roast all week long. Just... just let me know when it'd be best for you." Eleanor nods, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I'd like that. And I will." [continue] [if RichardTrapped] As the midday light streams through the exhibition hall windows, you float back to survey Eleanor's progress. Working on her own, she's managed to create a semblance of order from the chaos, artifacts now arranged with surprising harmony. She steps back, hands on her hips, surveying her work with evident satisfaction. The faint sounds of thumping from the sarcophagus have long since faded into background noise. [if SweetsEaten >= 2; if RichardTrapped] Eleanor shifts her position, her overindulgence making itself known with a subtle pressure against her waistcoat. "Not bad at all," she murmurs to herself, casting a guilty glance at the now-diminished refreshment cart. "I wonder where Richard's got to," she adds, gathering her notes. "Well, I'm sure he'll be delighted with my progress when he returns." She's quite pleased with having handled everything herself, you can see it in her face. You are too. [continue] [if RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardTrapped] As the midday light comes in from the exhibition hall, you float back to survey their progress. The once-chaotic space is... still quite messy. Richard gathers his notes with precision, carefully maintaining the professional distance he's established all morning. "The exhibition should be ready by next week," he states flatly. "Your assistance has been... well, thank you, Eleanor." [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

{embed passage: 'Mirror Resolution Cutscene 5'}

Eleanor stands at the counter, one hand pressed lightly against her temple. Her posture is not quite there, though she maintains her usual, composed demeanour. The fingers of her free hand tap softly against her workbag, perhaps impatient to simply receive her remedy and head home for the day. Her gaze occasionally drifts to the shelves behind the counter. She might just be reading through the labels to pass the time, but the bottles are quite pretty on their own. {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[Try as you might...->Eleanor Apothecary persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You attempt to concentrate on Eleanor's mind, but her thoughts are foggy and disjointed, dominated by the pulsing pain behind her temples. Her headache creates a mental barrier your influence cannot penetrate. {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor sits upright, her hands clasped tightly around her research notes in her lap. Her posture is tense, leaning forward slightly, clearly eager to discuss about her proposal. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Her usual work attire is neat - she has done an excellent job at concealing her recent gains - her waistcoat might seem a fraction tighter than usual if one looked closely, but that’s about it. She meets the Director's gaze directly, her expression earnest and focused. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Her clothing strains visibly against her fuller figure. Her blouse pulls taut across her bosom and belly, and she subtly shifts in the chair, likely trying to find a more comfortable position that doesn't put pressure on her midsection. There's a slight flush on her cheeks, and her gaze occasionally drops to her lap before she forces herself to meet the Director's eyes. [continue] {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Director Lunch persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded] You shift your focus to Eleanor. Her thoughts race, a blend of professional ambition, nervous energy, and a subtle, underlying physical awareness. Certain threads stand out... ➼[[**PROFESSIONALISM**->Eleanor Lunch Professionalism]] *Maintain composure. Present the arguments clearly. Show him the research is sound.* ➼[[**ANXIETY**->Eleanor Lunch Anxiety]] *Is he listening? He seems unconvinced. Did I miss something in the budget? Oh no...* ➼[[**GLUTTONY**->Eleanor Lunch Gluttony]] *That cake looks terribly plain... but still cake. And those sandwiches... He hasn't touched them. Perhaps just one...* [if DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded] Eleanor's thoughts have already been swayed by your influence. Her mind feels less receptive now, focused on the path you nudged her towards. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Your throat feels dry, your breath shallow. You're a moment away from just letting go of it, but then... an idea. Not a great one. Before you can second-guess yourself, you rise onto your tiptoes, tilting the amphora just enough to bring the rim to your lips. The first taste is bitter, yeasty - warm, somehow? It spurs you on. You drink deeply, the brew spilling over your tongue and down your throat in [[thick gulps->Eleanor Drinks from Amphora cutscene 3]].

The amphora grows lighter with each swallow, and you can feel the liquid pooling in your unprepared stomach, heavy and carbonated. You feel your corset press tighter against your middle as your belly swells with the volume - the pressure is immediate, but you don’t stop. You find yourself unwilling to. [[Wanting more of it->Eleanor Drinks from Amphora cutscene 4]].

By the time you lower the amphora, your breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps. Your stomach feels taut, straining against its confines, and the weight of the beer sits low and insistent. The amphora, now lighter, is easier to handle: you gently tilt it onto its side, the remaining liquid softly sloshing around its container, same as the one you've just drunk. You straighten yourself, swaying slightly, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through you. Your hands rest on your hips, fingers brushing the curve of your belly, and you take a moment to steady yourself. The room feels hazy, the edges softened, and you’re acutely aware of how bloated you now are. It takes you a masterful amount of self-control not to belch in front of the others. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if SweetsEaten == 0] Eleanor moves methodically between the displays, her attention divided between Richard's arrangements and the curatorial ledger in her hands. Her waistcoat strains slightly as she bends to examine a scarab case, and she tugs at it self-consciously when she straightens. A faint sheen of perspiration dots her brow - the exhibition hall is poorly ventilated, and the activity seems to have already worked up her appetite, judging by the occasional glances she casts toward the refreshment cart. [if SweetsEaten == 1] Eleanor moves between the displays with a touch more energy, her attention divided between the artifacts and occasionally licking a stray crumb from her lip. Her waistcoat strains as she bends to examine a scarab case, and she no longer bothers to tug at it when she straightens - it's a lost cause. That single, lonely pastry seems to have awakened rather than sated her appetite - her gaze drifts to the cart more frequently now, though she tries to maintain her focus on the work at hand. [if SweetsEaten == 2] Eleanor's movements have slightly slowed, her focus occasionally drifting as she shifts between displays. Her waistcoat buttons pull noticeably tighter across her belly, and a dusting of sugar lingers at the corner of her mouth. You notice her suppressing a small burp behind her hand as she leans over to inspect a vase, her cheeks slightly flushed. [if SweetsEaten == 3] Eleanor moves with a distinct heaviness now, her breathing slightly labored. Her waistcoat has been fully surrendered - the bottom button now undone "for comfort" as she explained to Richard with an embarassed laugh, and without having been prompted. Sugar and flaky pastry remnants cling to her fingers despite her attempts to clean them with a handkerchief, prompting her to now be wearing leather gloves to touch the artefacts. Her focus on the work remains, but it's punctuated by frequent pauses where she eithers sits down on a crate, or discreetly presses a hand against her visibly distended middle. [if SweetsEaten == 4] Eleanor has slowed considerably, her movements careful and deliberate. Her waistcoat is now completely unbuttoned, revealing her straining blouse beneath. She's given up trying to hide the occasional burp, instead simply turning her head aside when necessary. Not proper of her, but Richard isn't paying too close attention. Her face is flushed and perspiring, and she frequently presses a hand to her obviously bloated midsection when Richard isn't looking. The work continues, but her enthusiasm has been notably dampened by how bloated she has made herself. [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Exhibition persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Eleanor's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, a continuous stream of talking. Some threads of dialogue boom above the others... and it's immediately clear that the nearby cart is distracting Eleanor. Well, that works for you. ➼[[**INDULGENCE**->Indulgence Persuasion]] *Just one pastry wouldn't hurt. You've been working hard all morning...* [unless RichardCompliment] ➼[[**BONDING**->Indulgence Persuasion]] *The refreshments... well, having some could make this collaboration less formal.* [if RichardCompliment; unless DateProposed] ➼[[**BONDING**->Bonding Persuasion]] *That was sweet of him. You could share some of the refreshments... you have got to make sure he remembers to eat, anyhow.* [if RichardCompliment; if DateProposed] ➼[[**BONDING**->Indulgence Persuasion]] *The refreshments... well, having some more could make this collaboration less formal.* [continue] ➼[[**ENERGY**->Indulgence Persuasion]] *You need sustenance to maintain focus. It's only practical.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if AmphoraState == 'base'] Eleanor stands by the plinth, her posture stiff and professional. Her waistcoat strains slightly across her midsection as she shifts her weight, the fabric pulling taut where it buttons. The faintest sheen of sweat glistens at her temples, which is understandable: the air inside of this hall feels damp. Her round glasses catch the dim light, obscuring her eyes as she glances at the others. She adjusts her cravat with a quick, practiced motion, the lace at her wrists brushing against the plinth left of her as she does so. The high collar of her blouse digs into her neck - that's sure to leave a red mark. [if AmphoraState == 'saved'] Eleanor stands by the plinth, her posture stiff and professional. Her waistcoat strains slightly across her midsection as she shifts her weight, the fabric pulling taut where it buttons. The faintest sheen of sweat glistens at her temples, which is understandable: the air inside of this hall feels damp. Her round glasses catch the dim light, obscuring her eyes as she glances at the others. She adjusts her cravat with a quick, practiced motion, the lace at her wrists brushing against the plinth left of her as she does so. The high collar of her blouse digs into her neck - that's sure to leave a red mark. [if AmphoraState == 'broken'] Eleanor kneels beside the shattered amphora, her black skirt pooling around her. Her hands hover over the shards, as if unsure where to begin to collect them. Her waistcoat is looking more rumpled, the seams straining as she leans forward, and her cravat has come undone, the ends dangling loosely over her chest. You watch her glasses slip down her nose - she pushes them back up with a frustrated sigh. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] Eleanor grips the amphora with both hands, her arms trembling under its weight. Her waistcoat has ridden up, exposing the lace trim of her corset as she struggles to steady the vessel. Her breathing is shallow, and a bead of sweat rolls down her temple, drooping onto her flushed cheeks. Her skirt twists around her legs, the fabric pulling tight across her thighs as she braces herself. [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] Eleanor leans heavily against the plinth, one hand pressed to her swollen stomach. Her waistcoat is to her side, the fabric hanging open to reveal the unbuttoned blouse underneath. Her breathing is labored, and her glasses sit askew on her nose, one lens fogged slightly from exertion. There's a stain onto the fabric near her knee, and her shoes scuff against the floor as she shifts her weight. She brushes a hand across her forehead, leaving a faint streak of dust, and exhales slowly, careful not to let out anything resembling a burp and lose even more of her dignity in front of the others. [continue] [if PastryCartVisible; if AmphoraState == 'base' || AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless MarbleBustsFallen] *Whenever the Director's attention either shifts to Mary or Violet, Eleanor subtly reaches over to the nearby cart, snatching once a dry biscuit, then one of the small cakes and consuming it quickly. She then brushes the crumbs from her fingers before anyone can notice.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor persuasion menu]] [continue]

DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded: true -- His expression... it's unreadable, but not encouraging. Is he even paying attention? Or just waiting for you to finish so he can dismiss you? Perhaps the proposal *is* too ambitious. Maybe the budget figures *are* unrealistic. Your collar feels suddenly tight, your palms damp against the notes. What if you've made a terrible mistake pressing this? He'll think you incompetent. What about your career? Oh dear... {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony: true -- Your stomach gives a low rumble, embarrassingly audible in the quiet office. He *still* hasn't touched his lunch. The sandwiches sit there, triangles of pale bread and indeterminate filling, beside that dry-looking slice of cake. It seems terribly rude to just leave it. Wasteful, even. Before you can reconsider, your hand darts out, snatching first, the second sandwich, then the cake. You consume them quickly, almost automatically as you continue talking, barely registering the taste: to be fair, there’s not much of it in the first place. You dab your lips with his napkin, trying to appear nonchalant, though the sudden fullness in your stomach is undeniable beneath your straining clothes… best carry on as if nothing occurred. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded: true -- Deep breath. Remember your training, your research. This is not about *you*, it's about the work. Present the facts logically, anticipate his objections regarding cost and feasibility. Maintain eye contact, speak clearly. Do not fidget. He must see you as a capable, serious scholar, not some flighty assistant. The significance of the findings speaks for itself if presented correctly. You *can* convince him. [unless DirectorFocused] Well, he does need to listen to you in the first place, doesn't he? Ugh... [continue] {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Eleanor stands close to the mirror, her usual professional composure tinged with focused curiosity and a hint of unease. She's trying hard not to show the latter, but you've been in her company for enough time: it's evident. Her spectacles rest low on her nose as she leans in to examine the crack, her fingers hovering just above the damaged surface. Her dark waistcoat fits snugly, showing only the slightest strain across her back as she bends. She occasionally glances at Mary, offering a brief, perhaps forced, reassuring frown before her attention returns entirely to the perplexing artifact before her. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Eleanor stands close to the mirror, her usual professional composure tinged with focused curiosity and a hint of unease. She's trying hard not to show the latter, but you've been in her company for enough time: it's evident. Her spectacles rest low on her nose as she leans forward to examine the crack, the movement causing her waistcoat buttons to pull slightly across her softened middle. The fabric strains subtly across her back and newly rounded hips as she concentrates, fingers hovering just above the damaged surface. She glances at Mary, her slightly fuller cheeks creased in a frown, before turning back to the mirror. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor stands close to the mirror, leaning in carefully to examine the crack. Her discarded waistcoat lies draped over a nearby crate; without it, her blouse pulls taut across her noticeably rounded belly as she bends forward. The curve of her plump figure is evident, her widened hips pressing against the mirror's frame as she shifts for a better view. Her spectacles slide down her nose, and she pushes them back up with a sigh, her attention divided between the mirror and her own slight discomfort. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Eleanor stands close to the mirror, her new weight making the cramped space feel even smaller. She leans forward with effort, her large belly pressing against the lower frame of the mirror as she strains to examine the crack high up. Her blouse gaps open between buttons, revealing the straining corset beneath. Her breathing is slightly heavier as she concentrates, one hand occasionally resting on her hip for balance. She glances toward Mary, her double chin more pronounced as she frowns, before refocusing on the mirror. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor positions herself carefully before the mirror, her size filling the space between it and the shelves. She avoids leaning forward, instead tilting her head back to peer up at the crack through her spectacles - her now massive belly would make any closer inspection difficult. Her modified blouse strains severely across her bosom and stomach, the fabric pulling away from the buttons. She breathes heavily, fanning herself slightly with one hand while the other rests on the significant shelf of her stomach. Her spectacles slide down her nose, and she pushes them back up with a sigh, her attention divided between the mirror and her own self. [continue] {link to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Mirror persuasion menu]] [continue]

Honestly, Mary's hysterics are making this situation worse. Ghosts? Really? In a museum storage room? It's preposterous. It's a damaged artifact, damn it! Nothing more. Annoying, yes. Problematic? Also yes. But not supernatural. If she would just calm down, you could examine it properly. Her pacing and hand-wringing are incredibly distracting. Just breathe in, then out, Eleanor. Deal with the object, then deal with Mary. A brick to the head might just do it, really. It's tempting. {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

This mirror... where did it come from? It's more than just silvered glass. The frame's motifs are unusual, too. They seem baroque, almost, but that wouldn't make any sense. Isn't this supposed to be centuries old? And this crack... it doesn't look like any impact damage you've seen. Or does it? The light here is horrible, you might just be seeing things. But maybe this is more than just an antique. It feels... significant. {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

This storage room wasn't designed for people to just stand about. Or for someone of... ample proportions. Every time you shift to get a better angle on the crack, your hip bumps a shelf or your stomach presses against the mirror stand. It's difficult to concentrate properly when you're constantly aware of the lack of space. When did you get so clumsy? Better yet, how did you get so big, all of a sudden? It really did sneak up on you. And the air is so still and close... makes your clothes feel even tighter. You really must speak to the director about ventilation. Or perhaps just finish this quickly and escape back to your flat. Yes, that seems the best course. {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Ignore Mary's theatrics. Ignore the fact that it's late, and you just want to get out of here. Focus. Observe. The fracture surface is clean. No radiating impact lines. Could it be a resonant frequency? Unlikely, but possible given the material's odd properties. The lack of reflection is the key... perhaps an advanced silvering technique that degrades uniquely? You must take precise notes. What... ah, right, you left your ledger in the office. Well, just remember it then, Eleanor. Temperature, humidity... any atmospheric anomalies? A logical explanation exists. Find the cause, then the solution. {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You reach out toward Eleanor's mind. Her thoughts are more focused than Mary's at the moment - a mix of curiosity and some underlying stress. Some threads emerge, distinct amidst the mental noise... ➼[[**RATIONALITY**->Eleanor Mirror Rationality Persuasion]] *Fascinating. The material doesn't behave like normal glass or silvered mirror. Must document the properties... perhaps a stress fracture from temperature changes?* ➼[[**CURIOSITY**->Eleanor Mirror Curiosity Persuasion]] *No reflection at all... and now this crack. What exactly *is* this object? The Whitlock collection always had peculiar items.* [if WeightGained == 'FAT' or WeightGained == 'OBESE'] ➼[[**DISCOMFORT**->Eleanor Mirror Discomfort Persuasion]] *This room is dreadfully cramped. Difficult to get a proper look without bumping into everything. And this heat... unbearable.* [else] ➼[[**ANNOYANCE**->Eleanor Mirror Annoyance Persuasion]] *Mary is letting her imagination run wild. Need to remain calm and assess the damage properly.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Eleanor stands by her desk, her posture precise despite the hour. Her honey-blonde hair is pulled into a bun, though stray wisps frame her face. Her waistcoat buttons strain slightly across her midsection - her corset is doing an excellent job at hiding just how much she's gained as of late. She's currently absorbed in her work, squinting through round spectacles at a sheaf of documents. Her fingers move methodically across the page, occasionally pausing to dip her pen in ink. The freckles across her nose scrunch as she squints at a particularly problematic entry in her ledger. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Eleanor stands leafing through a ledger at her desk, her honey-blonde hair falling in loose waves around her freckled face. Her pocket watch chain stretches noticeably tighter across her middle as she leans forward, the metal links pressing into the new softness that has begun to round her waistcoat. Each time she turns a page, the bottom buttons of her waistcoat strain visibly, small gaps appearing between them. Her skirt sits higher than before, the waistband clearly digging into the developing love handles at her sides. When she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her more generous backside causes the fabric to pull taut, its seams having to work harder than yesterday to contain her figure. Just above them, her skirt band digs noticeably into her hips, causing her to discretely adjust it. You spot the slightest indication of a second chin as she looks down at her notes. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor stands on tiptoes to retrieve a document from a high shelf. Her waistcoat has been discarded, draped over her chair nearby. Without its confinement, her new blouse - you can tell by the pristine cuffs - still pulls tightly across her bulging belly, which now protrudes roundly over her skirt waistband and jiggles slightly with each stretched reach. Inside of her office space, she's abandoned fastening the former's bottom two buttons entirely. When she finally grasps the folder, she drops back onto her heels with a small grunt, her honey-blonde hair falling into her eyes. Her skirt strains across her widened flanks, the fabric stretched to near-transparency - you can easily trace the contours of her panties. As she catches her breath, her free hand absently massages the side of her belly, just left of her love handles. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Eleanor struggles to shift a crate of pottery fragments, her expanded girth forcing her to waddle rather than walk. Her substantial belly leads the way, hanging over her skirt waistband and swaying with each laboured step. After setting down the crate with an audible huff, she places both hands at the small of her back, arching to counterbalance the impressive weight of her front - both her gut and her constrained bosom. Her considerably widened rear provides an ample shelf behind her, straining her skirt seams, but no longer to their limits: Eleanor might've adjusted it before coming to work. Her blouse buttons gap in protest, revealing glimpses of the utterly straining, and possibly bent corset over her chemise. How was she even able to get it onto her? Her honey-blonde hair falls in disarray around her now double-chinned face as she fans herself, breath coming in short puffs from the slight exertion. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor sits at her desk with her creaking chair pushed far back to accommodate her body. Her massive belly dominates her lap, spilling over her thighs and stretching her revised blouse to its absolute limits. Even with several of its buttons replaced with discreet hooks, there are still wide gaps forming across her considerable chest and belly - gaps that allow you to spot the obvious: Eleanor is no longer bothering herself with a corset. When she reaches for her glasses and some documents to inspect, her double chin folds beneath her rounded face, framed by the honey-blonde hair now let free and falling over her shoulders - her arm jiggles with the simple movement. The desk's edge presses visibly into the shelf of her stomach as she leans forward, creating a deep indentation in the soft flesh and eliciting a soft grunt. You wonder how much energy she will need to struggle her large, visibly stuck rear out of the chair's handles, and if her legs and arms will be strong enough to help her with that. [if GardenPartyHangover; append] *You watch her stop to rub her temples with a slight wince, clearly feeling the effects of the previous evening.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [note] When a document slips to the floor, she eyes it with resignation before awkwardly leaning to retrieve it, her substantial stomach impeding the motion and her blonde hair getting in the way of her sight. [continue]

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, resting on her chair and with her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] hanging from her jacket. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, standing up leafing through a ledger at her desk. Her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] chain stretches a bit tighter across her middle as she leans forward. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, standing on tiptoes to retrieve a document from a high shelf. Her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] dangles from her hand as she stretches. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, struggling to shift a crate of pottery fragments. Her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] is tucked into a skirt pocket that bulges against her hip. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Behind all of this there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, seated at her desk with her chair pushed far back. Her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] rests on the desk. [continue]

[if AmphoraState == 'base'] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]] is standing by a central plinth - on top of it is a terracotta [[amphora]]. [if AmphoraState == 'broken'] The amphora lies in pieces, shattered across the plinth and floor. [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]] is standing nearby, careful not to step over any shards. [if AmphoraState == 'saved'] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]] is standing by a central plinth - on top of it is a shut terracotta [[amphora]]. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] The [[amphora]] is teetering on the plinth, wobbling precariously in [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]]’s grip. [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] The [[amphora]] sits lopsided on the plinth, its form now leaning heavily to one side - [[Eleanor->Eleanor Intro Meeting Diorama]] stands nearby, catching her breath. [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Eleanor's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, a continuous stream of talking. Some threads of dialogue boom above the others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**PRIDE**->Pride Eleanor Intro Meeting]] *Everyone's watching. I must appear competent, collected. I am not some bumbling assistant...* ➼[[**ANGER**->Anger Eleanor Intro Meeting]] *Why am I always cleaning up others messes? These fools couldn't catalog a bookshelf...* [unless IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion; unless AmphoraState == 'teetering'] ➼[[**GLUTTONY**->Gluttony Eleanor Intro Meeting . Base Dialogue]] *I really should eat something soon...* [unless IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] ➼[[**GLUTTONY**->Gluttony Eleanor Intro Meeting . Persuaded into drinking from the amphora]] *I should taste it... just a sip. To, um… understand what's inside. Yes, that’s it. No one would fault a scholar for being thorough…* [if IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion] The currents of Eleanor's thoughts have grown turbulent since your intervention. Try as you might, her mind is just too chaotic now for further whispers to take hold. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

The amphora shudders as a final bust collides with it. There's a brief moment of resistance before it strikes the ground with a forceful thud and cracks open, splitting across the tiled floor into a thousand shards. All near Eleanor herself, who simply did not have enough time to even attempt to catch it. The director exhales sharply through his nose. "*Fantastic.*" His voice is flat. "*If anyone asks, this whole area was like this when we got here - we're blaming this on the night shift.*" {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

dialogue.speed: 'fast' config.footer.center: "{save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} | {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}" -- Dialogue speed has been set to **fast**. {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Ancient Mirror Cutscene 1'}

Test13: 'this thing' -- [if Test13 == 'this thing'] this shows up

It tips further to the left. Eleanor moves without thinking. With a sharp intake of breath her hands catch the rough ceramic before it can tip over the edge of the pling. The amphora wobbles in her grip, its insides sloshing so heavily that the cork on top falls down, together with a dribble of the contents - a thick scent of malt exits from it. Mary, watching with unabashed delight, claps her hands lightly. *"Oh, Eleanor! A truly heroic rescue!"* Eleanor steadies herself, fingers pressing against the cool surface, but she clearly doesn't have the strength required to right it forward. What now? The director exhales through his teeth. *"Well."* A pause. *"At least one of you has reflexes."* {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: true -- You feel your stomach as it grumbles - an insistent gnawing that's been distracting you for the past hour. Why did you skip breakfast? Well, you technically didn’t, but clearly you should’ve had more when you had the chance. The director drones on and on about exhibition priorities… could he get to the point? You shift your weight, pressing a hand discreetly against your middle. [if PastryCartVisible; if AmphoraState == 'base' || AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless MarbleBustsFallen; append] That pastry cart... has it been there all along? The biscuits look terribly dry, and that cake probably isn't much better after sitting out the weekend. Still... it's *right there*. No one seems to want it. Just one quick bite wouldn't hurt... [unless PastryCartVisible; if AmphoraState == 'base' || AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless MarbleBustsFallen] God, what you wouldn't give for a pastry right now. The bakery across from the museum had those glazed buns in the window this morning, ugh... Focus, Eleanor. Focus. Just… don’t think. It’s making things worse. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

AmphoraState: 'drunk' IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: true -- You feel the amphora as it wobbles in your hands, its weight shifting dangerously with every movement. Your arms ache - did no one really think it would've been a good idea to empty it before placing it on display? On such a tall plint, too? You should've just let it fall to the floor. It's not the kind of thoughts one working inside a museum should have, you know that, but it feels justified. The scent of malt rises from the open rim, thick and heady, and for a moment, your focus narrows to that sound, that smell. [[It's beer, isn't it?->Eleanor Drinks from Amphora cutscene 2]]

You mentally calculate the week's sales as you handle the bottle. He would definitely notice a few extra pennies missing from the daily count… but what about now, with his glasses broken? These... *special* formulations can, potentially, fetch a premium - especially from the wealthy ladies. The museum assistant looks well-to-do enough. Perhaps next time you could mention a "specially imported" version... at twice the price. Your fingers linger on the coin drawer. So easy to miscount, isn't it. {plainlink to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Mirror Resolution Cutscene 5'}

IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: true -- The emptiness within you grows, distracting you from the discussion. Your fingers twist the pen tighter as you fight to remain focused. Later. Later. Don’t let it touch you. Don’t let it influence you, no matter how hard it might be to resist. It’s endearing, really. And… potentially just what you’ve been looking for. What is it? Eleanor? No, no, you've tested that extensively. Basically inert. It certainly has the right *spirit* to it. But how? Where did it come from? You know everything stored within this building. No, evidently incorrect - almost everything. But how did *it* escape you? {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{link to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back'}

There's a way to import twee files, I checked, it's in the menu. Here we have worked with a version of the game with only the second chapter, and separated the first chapter in a different file. Re-add the first chapter back for game release by pasting it into the twee file of the second chapter only game. Remember to modify it to have the settings beforhand, and the chapter selection screen just after start (with the third chapter entry being there, but greyed out).

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 SlotThreeAttended: true -- Eleanor stands in the shade of a towering elm, its leaves casting dappled shadows across the cobblestone path. Before her, a white-painted cart with a striped awning draws a modest queue of patrons. The vendor, a moustached man in a pristine apron, hands out small glass dishes to eager children and their watchful teachers. You watch as she fidgets with her coin purse, counting out pennies as the line advances. When her turn arrives, she hesitates between flavours before pointing decisively to a rich chocolate. [[The vendor scoops generously.->Ice Cream Cutscene 2]]

The glass dish sits heavy in Eleanor's gloved hand, the dark chocolate mound already beginning to soften in the afternoon warmth. She finds an unoccupied bench facing the ornamental lake, settling herself at a careful distance from a dozing elderly gentleman at the opposite end. Her spoon dips into the dessert, carving inside of it. [[Her pace quickens.->Ice Cream Cutscene 3]]

The dish tilts dangerously as Eleanor scrapes for the final melting remnants. A smudge of chocolate has escaped to the corner of her mouth, quickly dabbed away with a handkerchief before any passersby notices. The empty dish finds temporary residence on the bench beside her as she adjusts the hat she brought with her from the museum against the breeze. Eventually, she rises to return the dish to the vendor. [[But pauses halfway.->Ice Cream Cutscene 4]]

The dish is not, in fact, returned. Not yet. Instead, Eleanor now stands before the cart once more, having chosen to instead go for two more vanilla scoops beside a dollop of raspberry. This time, she doesn't take her time. The spoon moves quickly. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

SlotThreeAttended: true -- Eleanor barely reaches the park's gates when the first fat drops begin to fall, quickly escalating into a sudden, drenching downpour. Her parasol is clearly better suited for the sun - it offers little protection against rain. Within moments, her light blouse clings to her shoulders and back, revealing the distinct lines of the chemise beneath. Water streams down her face, plastering a couple of stray strands of her blonde hair to her temples and cheeks. Her skirt darkens rapidly, the fabric becoming heavy and sodden. [[You follow her as she makes a hasty retreat.->Rainy Day Cutscene 2]]

{embed passage: 'Overheard Thursday'}

IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: true -- The pocket watch weighs heavier with each passing second. Every moment wasted here is a moment you could be finalizing your presentation for the board meeting. These trivialities should be handled by the staff without your supervision. Why must they constantly interrupt with pointless questions? Just let me talk so I can get away from this accursed place! I have people to do, things to talk with! No, wait, that’s not right… {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

SweetsEaten: SweetsEaten + 1 -- [if SweetsEaten == 1] Your mouth waters as you eye the pastries. Has he really not taken advantage of the the cart? That seems like a waste. You casually drift to the cart, selecting a plump cream-filled bun. As you take care of it in just a couple of bites, you find yourself licking the pad of your thumb to catch an dollop of custard. The sweetness lingers pleasantly on your tongue, and you already find yourself contemplating a second. No, no. That wouldn't be proper, wouldn't it? Just leave it for now. [if SweetsEaten == 2] Then again, you've been so productive... surely another small reward is justified? This time you select a chocolate-topped eclair, not bothering with pretense. The rich filling coats your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly as you savor it. When you open them, you notice Richard glancing your way, then quickly averting his gaze. You brush crumbs from your waistcoat, feeling the fabric strain slightly as you inhale. Perhaps you should return to work... [if SweetsEaten == 3] The cart beckons again. Fine. Fine! Your fingers close around two small tarts at once. The first disappears in three quick bites, followed immediately by the second - the last thing you want is Richard noticing that you've made your way through most of the servings. Your stomach feels distinctly fuller now, pressing against your waistcoat with enough insistence that you discreetly undo the bottom button. The relief is immediate... and satisfying. Come now, you've earned this small comfort. [if SweetsEaten == 4] Against your better judgment, you grab the last eclair and a small fruit tart, consuming them in quick succession. A warm, heavy contentment spreads through you as your overtaxed stomach stretches to accommodate this final indulgence. Your waistcoat is a lost cause now. You undo the remaining buttons - it was getting to hot in here anyway. But it doesn't help much: the pressure against your blouse is unmistakable, a taut fullness that makes deep breaths challenging. Was that... what? Four pastries in total? Five? Ugh, it's getting hard to think... [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

dialogue.speed: 'instant' config.footer.center: "{save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} | {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}" -- Dialogue speed has been set to **instant**. {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'CH2 Variables'} [unless CH2Standalone] <div class="chapter-container"> <div class="chapter-heading">Chapter 2</div> <div class="chapter-subtitle">Daemon of Hunger</div> </div> </div> [continue] The morning air bites with smog as Eleanor steps onto the cobblestone street. Her leather workbag sways at her hip, its worn strap creaking under the combined weight of ledgers, artifacts, and your vessel. Through the half-open clasp, you glimpse the statuette's [[granite curves->Intro 2.0.5]].

correctartefact: 3 arrowheadstaken: true clayvesseltaken: true SkullTaken: true -- She pauses to adjust her skirt's waistband where it digs into her flesh as a tram clatters past. Her route takes her past warehouse workers unloading crates and a bakery window fogged with steam - the scent of fresh bread mingles unpleasantly with the coal dust clinging to her collar. At each intersection, her pace slows fractionally. You observe how her breathing shallows while ascending the gentle slope toward the neoclassical facade that looms [[ahead.->Intro 2.1]] [note] Here I've placed all provisional variables that relate to the previous chapter, as I do envision some of the actions taken in the first chapter to influence some minor things in this chapter too, it would be cool. Maybe some major stuff too, we'll see. [continue]

The building's portico stretches overhead, its limestone columns streaked with decades of soot. Eleanor mounts the stairs with care, one hand bracing against the iron railing while the other clutches her bag to her midsection. A uniformed attendant - a very tall, young-looking lad - holds the brass-framed door open just wide enough for her to sidle through without brushing the glass. "Morning, Miss Lovelace," he says, without really bothering to glance towards her. [[She nods back, and enters through.->Museum Entrance]]

The marble stairs tick under Eleanor's measured tread. Between floors, she pauses before a stained-glass window depicting Roman excavations, her reflection warped in its borders. The quiet of the building suddenly strikes you as odd. Eleanor might have come early into work today, but surely she can't be the only one who has. Where is everyone? Topside, gas lamps hiss in their sconces alongside a vaulted corridor. Display cases line the walls, their contents still draped. Eleanor's keys jingle against a door plaque reading [[~E. Lovelace, Assistant Curator~->Intro 2.3]].

Finally, you find yourself dragged inside what you can assume is Eleanor's office. You watch as she deposits her bag's contents beside a precarious stack of auction catalogs, your vessel's stone curves now resting against an ink-stained {tooltip: 'blotter', text: 'Blotting paper, used to absorb ink or oil from writing materials.'}. Shelves sag under a fair amount of labeled artifacts and ledgers - one of the latters lies open to the previous week's entries: [[there seems to have been a lot of movement inside the museum's archives.->Start Day Monday]]

*You concentrate onto the object.* Eleanor flinches as the watch thrums against her chest, its ticking now sharp enough to rattle the inkwell she had been using. She snaps it back shut with a click, but it seems your disturbance has reminded her that [[time is of the essence->Work Day Logic]]. [note] [if passage.visits == 1 [[...Oh no.->Work Day pulled away cutscene [if passage.visits > 1 [[You're off to work.->Work Day Logic

[if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro1] *Now that we're all finally present,* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro1] the director says, snapping his watch shut, [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro1] *Let us address this week's priorities.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2 id:intro1] *Ms. Whitlock - you'll continue cataloguing the Etruscan collection.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:intro1] *That should keep you occupied for a while, I'm sure.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2 id:intro1] *Mary... uh... well, we do have a donor tour at half past eleven.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro1] *And Eleanor-* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro1 newline] Mary suddenly interrupts him, looking very excited. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro1] *Oh, how wonderful!* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro1] *Who will we be receiving today?* [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro2] The director's mustache twitches. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro2] *Unfortunately our usual, the duke.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro2] *Now as I was saying-* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:intro2 newline] The other curator clears her throat. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2 id:intro2] *The [[Pergamon fragments]] listed here as item 27-B...* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:intro2] *they were technically never transferred from storage.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro2 newline] *Ah.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro2] *How does that even happen?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro2] *Someone clearly moved them here.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:intro2] he says, before turning back to Eleanor. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro2] *Your priority remains the-* [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro3] Mary leans closer to the two. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2 id:intro3] *Markus, should I serve the '68 claret or the Spanish sherry?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro3 newline] *...what?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro3] *Are you referring to the tour?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2 id:intro3] *No sweetheart, just... tea will be good enough for him.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro3] *Where would you even get those?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:intro3] The director's turns around to face Eleanor again. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro3] *Anyways, as I was saying-* [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro4] Ms. Whitlock's pen stops mid-stroke. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2 id:intro4] *The loan agreement for these busts expires Thursday.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro4] *Do we renew or-* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro4 newline] *Oh I **hate them**.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:intro4] *Replicas... bah!* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro4] *You can burn them for all I care.* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:intro4] He massages his temple. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:intro4 newline] Mary adjusts her brooch. [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2 id:intro4] *Should the duke view the Egyptian wing before or after luncheon?* [if IntroMeetingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:intro4] *The mummies do tend to curdle the appetite.* [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:intro5] The director slams his watch onto the helmet's glass case. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro5] *Mary, you do know that I cherish you,* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:2 id:intro5] *but Christ's teeth, must I orchestrate every trivial -* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1 id:intro5 newline] Eleanor steps forward, her waistcoat creaking. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro5] *Sir, if I could just -* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro5 newline] *Oh no, not you too, Eleanor.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro5] *I've had enough of this!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1 id:intro5] *Sort it yourself.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1 id:intro5] He snatches his watch back, leaving a sweaty imprint on the glass. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:intro5] *I've a board meeting at the Athenaeum.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:2.5 id:intro5] *If the museum burns down in my absence, don't bother warning me about it!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1 id:intro5 newline] As he storms out, Mary examines her gloves. [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:intro5] *Well!* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:intro5] *I suppose we're meant to read his mind now.* [if IntroMeetingTurns >= 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:intro5] *What am I to do?!*

IntroMeetingTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): IntroMeetingTurns + 1 -- [if IntroMeetingTurns < 5] You're hovering within the museum's left wing exhibition hall. {embed passage: 'Eleanor and Amphora Logic'} To the right, a [[bronze helmet]] rests on a velvet cushion, while to the left is a fragmented [[mosaic]]. The [[director]] stands by a marble plinth, his pocket watch chain glinting. [[Mary->Mary Intro Meeting Diorama]] is currently examining a bronze [[statuette->bronze statuette]]. {embed passage: 'Violet Name and Busts Logic'} [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns == 5] You're hovering within the museum's left wing exhibition hall. {embed passage: 'Eleanor and Amphora Logic'} To the right, a [[bronze helmet]] rests on a velvet cushion, while to the left is a fragmented [[mosaic]]. [[Mary->Mary Intro Meeting Diorama]] is currently examining a bronze [[statuette->bronze statuette]]. {embed passage: 'Violet Name and Busts Logic'} [continue] *** [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if AmphoraState == 'base'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Intro Meeting Dialogue'} [if AmphoraState == 'saved'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Intro Meeting Dialogue'} [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Dialogue Teetering Amphora'} [if AmphoraState == 'broken'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Dialogue Broken Amphora'} [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'; if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5] {embed passage: 'Dialogue Drunk Amphora'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if IntroMeetingTurns > 5] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the meeting's conclusion->Intro Meeting ending cutscene]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this gathering over from the beginning->Director cutscene 3]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- Mary exchanges a glance with Violet, who merely shrugs and continues her work. Mary soon joins her, and so does Eleanor, preferring not to bend over but to simply arrange the fragments on a nearby surface. Once that's done, Eleanor doesn't stay any longer than it's necessary: she eventually turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble.

IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true SlotTwoAttended: false -- [if AmphoraState == 'base'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary adjusts her gloves, her gaze flicking back to the artifacts. Ms. Whitlock resumes her note-taking, the scratch of her pen the only sound. Eleanor exhales sharply, her fingers brushing the edge of the plinth to her left as she straightens her waistcoat. Mary clears her throat. *"Well, that could have gone worse."* Ms. Whitlock doesn’t look up. *"Just a waste of our time, really."* Eleanor shakes her head, her expression tight. Without another word, she turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble. [if AmphoraState == 'saved'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary adjusts her gloves, her gaze flicking back to the artifacts. Ms. Whitlock resumes her note-taking, the scratch of her pen the only sound. Eleanor exhales sharply, her fingers brushing the edge of the plinth to her left as she straightens her waistcoat. Mary clears her throat. *"Well, that could have gone worse."* Ms. Whitlock doesn’t look up. *"Just a waste of our time, really."* Eleanor shakes her head, her expression tight. Without another word, she turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble. [if AmphoraState == 'broken'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary kneels to gather the larger shards of the amphora, her gloves protecting her hands from the jagged edges. Ms. Whitlock stands by, clipboard in hand, her lips pressed into a thin line as she surveys the damage. Eleanor stares at the mess, her hands clenched at her sides. Mary glances up. *"I’ll fetch a broom."* Ms. Whitlock nods. *"And a dustpan."* Eleanor doesn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the shattered remains. For the next half hour you watch the three of them cleaning the hall of all the detritus. Thankfully, Eleanor doesn't stay any longer than it's necessary: she eventually turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary steps forward to steady the amphora, her hands joining Eleanor's on the heavy vessel. Ms. Whitlock sets her clipboard aside and begins gathering the fragments of the marble busts, her movements precise. Eleanor exhales sharply, her shoulders sagging under the weight. Mary glances at her. *"Careful now. Let’s set it down gently."* Eleanor nods, her expression tight. Together, the two of them lower the amphora to the plinth. With a soft thanks, she turns and strides back to her [[office->Office]], her heels clicking against the marble. [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] The director's departure leaves the hall in a heavy silence. Mary steps forward, her gloved hands reaching for the amphora, but Eleanor waves her off with a sluggish motion. Her face is flushed, her breathing uneven as she leans heavily against the plinth. Violet sets her clipboard aside and begins gathering the fragments of the marble busts. Mary hesitates, her hands hovering near the amphora. *"Eleanor, are you quite alright?"* Eleanor shakes her head, her voice thick. *"Just... give me a moment."* She presses a hand to her stomach, [[her waistcoat straining against the movement->Intro Meeting Ending cutscene 2]].

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LedgerChecked: true --

[if passage.name == 'Slot Selection'] [[➼Afternoon->Leisure Activity Selection]] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'MARKET'] *"The market fair is in town. It looks quite lively - I should find time to visit its stalls."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'LEISURE_CAFE'] *"A quiet hour at Willoughby's café with a book, and some of their ginger cake."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'ICECREAM'] *"Ice cream in the park, weather permitting."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'APOTHECARY'] *"Must visit the apothecary for more of their headache pills."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'TRAIN'] *"An hour at the train station. The tea is terrible, there might be some sketching opportunities."* [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; if SlotThreeEvent == 'GRAVE'] *"Time to visit Mother and Father."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GEOLOGY'] *"The Duke's new obsession - the Geology Club. If I could convince him those symbols relate to... I don't know... mining, perhaps?"* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GARDEN'; unless MaryPricked] *"Garden Party hosted by the Archaeological Society's treasurer. Mary insists the fresh air will do me good."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'AUCTION'] *"Private collector's estate sale. Some interesting Celtic pieces listed - might be worth investigating."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'SOCIETY_BALL'] *"Mary's invitation to the Society Ball was unexpected. 'All the right people will be there,' she promises. The dress requirements are... concerning."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; if PrivateResearchAttended; if VioletArchiveSuccessful; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] *"Ms. Whitlock has requested my presence for the unboxing of a 'significant acquisition' in the Mika Collection."* [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; if VioletCrateRevealed; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless PrivateResearchAttended] *"That mysterious crate Violet was so secretive about... I should see if it's arrived in the Mika Collection room."* [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; if VioletCrateRevealed; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; if PrivateResearchAttended; unless VioletArchiveSuccessful] *"That mysterious crate Violet was so secretive about... I should see if it's arrived in the Mika Collection room."* [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GEOLOGY'] *"The Duke's new obsession - the Geology Club. If I could convince him to allow me some findings... somehow?"*

A number of afternoon activities present themselves readily. Thankfully your work here is made much simpler by Eleanor herself: she has helpfully jotted various options in the margins of past weeks. Some are circled, others crossed out. [unless MarketVisited] - [[Visit the Market Fair->Set Leisure Market]] [continue] - [[Café Visit->Set Leisure Cafe]] [continue] - [[Ice Cream in the Park->Set Leisure IceCream]] [unless ApothecaryVisited] - [[Visit Apothecary->Set Leisure Apothecary]] [unless TrainStationVisited] - [[Train Station People-Watching->Set Leisure Train]] [unless GeologyClubAttended] - [[Geology Club - The Duke's Gathering->Set Leisure Geology]] [unless GardenPartyAttended] - [[♥Garden Party - Archaeological Society->Set Leisure Garden]] [if MaryTeaSuccessful; unless SocietyBallAttended; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] - [[♥Society Ball with Mary->Set Leisure Society_Ball]] [continue] [note] INVITED [continue] [if PrivateResearchAttended; if VioletArchiveSuccessful; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless VioletCrateAttended] - [[♠Attend Violet's "Confidential Unboxing"->Set Leisure VioletCrateMikaPathA]] [continue] [note] UNINVITED [continue] [if VioletCrateRevealed; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless VioletCrateAttended; unless PrivateResearchAttended] - [[♠Investigate the Mika Collection Crate->Set Leisure VioletCrateMikaPathB]] [continue] [if VioletCrateRevealed; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless VioletCrateAttended; if PrivateResearchAttended; unless VioletArchiveSuccessful] - [[♠Investigate the Mika Collection Crate->Set Leisure VioletCrateMikaPathB]] [continue] {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'} [note] TO (MAYBE) DEVELOP AFTER FIRST RELEASE [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless GraveVisited - [[Visit Parents' Grave->Set Leisure Grave] [unless AuctionAttended] - [[Evening Auction - Private Collection->Set Leisure Auction] [continue]

[if passage.name == 'Slot Selection'] [[➼Lunch->Lunch Activity Selection]] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'CAFE'] *"Lunch at the museum café. Reasonable prices, tolerable food."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BAKERY'] *"The bakery across the street has those delightful meat pies again. A bit indulgent, perhaps."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TAVERN'] *"The Crown & Anchor Tavern. I've heard they serve proper hearty fare, though perhaps not the most respectable establishment for a lady to dine alone."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TEAROOM'] *"The new tea room on High Street. Their pastries are said to be exquisite."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DELICATESSEN'] *"The German delicatessen offers me the opportunity to sample continental cuisine - surely such cultural exploration would benefit my... archaeological perspective."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'PIECART'] *"The pie cart vendor should be making his rounds near the museum."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'HAMPER'] *"A proper hamper delivery from Harrods. Expensive, but I may need to entertain potential benefactors at short notice."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'MARY'] *"Tea With Mary. Another attempt to discuss funding over pastries. She means well, even if her uncle hasn't responded to any of my letters."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DIRECTOR'] *"Meeting with the Director during lunch. Finally a chance to discuss the expedition funding."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DESK'] *"Working through lunch again. Not ideal, but necessary."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BANK'] *"The bank manager agreed to discuss a private loan. Best skip breakfast - their tea is dreadful but refusing would be impolite."* [if DateProposed == true; if SlotTwoEvent == 'TRANSLATION'] *"Comparing notes with Richard on ancient scripts over lunch. His enthusiasm for the mysterious is rather endearing."* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'CHARITABLELUNCHEON'] *"The Ladies' Charitable Luncheon. What an excellent networking opportunity!"* [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BENEFACTOR'] *"An impromptu invitation from a museum patron. I must be gracious and accommodating."* [note] The 'DESK' event is supposed to be without food on the first selection, then a small amount on the next, a bigger amount on the following one, ecc. [continue]

You ponder through all the places Eleanor could visit for lunch - places where her hunger might be satisfied to varying degrees. That should still be your main priority, all things considered, as her hunger has not yet been satisfied. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] You are starting to wonder whether it will ever be. The thought does... excite you. [continue] - [[Museum Café->Set Lunch Cafe]] [continue] - [[Local Bakery->Set Lunch Bakery]] [continue] - [[The Crown & Anchor Tavern->Set Lunch Tavern]] [continue] - [[Tea Room & Confectionery->Set Lunch TeaRoom]] [continue] [unless CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'; unless CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] - [[Pie Cart Vendor->Set Lunch PieCart]] [continue] [unless LunchWithMary] - [[♥Tea with Mary->Set Lunch Mary]] [unless LunchWithDirector; unless CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] - [[Meeting with Director->Set Lunch Director]] [continue] - [[Working Lunch at Desk->Set Lunch Desk]] [unless BankMeetingAttended] - [[Bank Meeting->Set Lunch Bank]] [if DateProposed == true; unless TranslationSessionAttended] - [[♣Translation Session with Richard->Set Lunch Translation]] [continue] {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'} [note] TO (MAYBE) DEVELOP AFTER FIRST RELEASE - [[The German Delicatessen->Set Lunch Delicatessen] [if MaryTeaSuccessful; unless CharitableLuncheonAttended - [[Ladies' Charitable Luncheon->Set Lunch CharitableLuncheon] [if ExpeditionFunds >= 2; unless BenefactorLunchAttended - [[Impromptu Lunch with Museum Benefactor->Set Lunch Benefactor [continue]

IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: true -- Your eyes keep drifting to Eleanor. The way her waistcoat strains across her chest, how her cheeks flush when addressed... it's utterly distracting. Poor thing looks so uncomfortable in that restrictive clothing. You imagine helping her loosen those buttons, watching her breathe easier as you slip your hands under the fabric to massage away the marks left by the too-tight garments. You'd be doing her a kindness, really. Perhaps you could offer some private "assistance" after the meeting? The thought warms your cheeks as you adjust your collar. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Mary is near the bronze statuette, her gloved fingertips touching its surface. Her crimson dress looks to be new, the fabric crisp and fashionable. That bustle and sleeves are bold choices. As you watch her, you quickly realize that her smile is basically constant, almost as if she’s stuck like that. Her focus is all over the place: her eyes dart once to the director, the next onto the statuette, the next on Eleanor, then the ceiling, the floor… it's making you dizzy. [if PastryCartVisible] *Her gaze occasionally flicks towards the pastry cart, and then speculatively towards Eleanor.* [continue] {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Mary persuasion menu]] [continue]

Mary stands wringing her hands, her normally cheerful demeanor replaced with barely contained panic. Her fashionable burgundy dress catches the lamplight, the vibrant color not really matching the gloom of the storage room. She shifts her weight constantly, occasionally casting pleading glances at Eleanor. When she thinks no one watching, her eyes dart to the clock on the wall. {link to: 'Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Mary Mirror persuasion menu]] [continue]

This isn't your fault. You followed procedures! You were just doing inventory as requested. Someone else must have uncovered it, someone clumsy... Perhaps one of the porters? Or maybe... maybe it was a new hire. A night watchman. Always sneaking around where they shouldn't be. Street rats, all of them! Yes, that's it. You just need to subtly suggest that possibility to Eleanor... and later, to the director. It certainly wasn't *you*. It can't have been. It can't! {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Your hands tremble as you smooth down your dress for the tenth time - and you're not supposed to! You'll end up ruining it, Mary. The image of your uncle's stern face looms large in your mind. He secured this position for you, warned you against carelessness... and now *this*. A priceless artifact, damaged on your watch! Or at least, discovered by you. He'll withdraw his support. You'll be cut off, sent back home in disgrace. No, he won't. Yes he will! This is a disaster! Why does everything always go wrong for you? Not fair, not fair! {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The air feels colder near the mirror, doesn't it? You can practically *feel* unseen eyes watching. Ol' Man Hemlock in Restoration always told stories... shadows moving, objects falling... He said the Whitlock donation brought something with it. And Violet, too! She's not right... This crack... also not right. Something made it happen. Something angry? Oh, *no*! You should've never come down here! You need to convince Eleanor to leave before *it* decides to break *us*. Gah!! {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence thin as it extends toward Mary's mind. Her thoughts are a frantic flutter, dominated by anxiety and a touch of superstitious dread. Some threads spiral louder than others... ➼[[**FEAR**->Mary Mirror Fear Persuasion]] *Oh dear, oh dear! My uncle will hear about this! I'll be dismissed for sure... or worse!* ➼[[**BLAME**->Mary Mirror Blame Persuasion]] *It wasn't me! I just found it like this! Perhaps it was faulty storage? Or... maybe one of the night staff? Yes, that must be it!* ➼[[**PANIC**->Mary Mirror Panic Persuasion]] *The watchmen always said this wing was haunted... Cold spots... whispers... Now this! It *must* be ghosts! We have to get out of here!* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'base'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Mary's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, fluttering like pages of a fashion magazine, colorful and scattered. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**LUST**->Lust Mary Intro Meeting]] *Oh, Eleanor looks so adorable when she's flustered.* ➼[[**AMBITION**->Ambition Mary Intro Meeting]] *Uncle will be pleased if I make a good impression on the director.* ➼[[**CHARM**->Charm Mary Intro Meeting]] *A laugh here, a smile there... how fun!* [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'saved'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Mary's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, fluttering like pages of a fashion magazine, colorful and scattered. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**LUST**->Lust Mary Intro Meeting]] *Oh, Eleanor looks so adorable when she's flustered.* ➼[[**AMBITION**->Ambition Mary Intro Meeting]] *Uncle will be pleased if I make a good impression on the director.* ➼[[**CHARM**->Charm Mary Intro Meeting]] *A laugh here, a smile there... how fun!* [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'broken'] Mary's fascination with the broken amphora makes her mind too scattered for your influence. [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] Mary's surprise at Eleanor's behavior creates a mental barrier your influence cannot penetrate. [unless IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] Mary's focus on the wobbling amphora makes her thoughts impenetrable to your influence. [continue] [if IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion] Mary's thoughts are now flowing in the direction you've nudged them. Any further attempt at manipulation would likely be noticed. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

The unseen forces of the physical world bend to your will. A soft green aura surrounds your form as you focus, allowing you to influence solid objects in subtle, but occasionally meaningful ways. As you vibrate, you find yourself confident in your ability to shift small objects, perhaps even exert enough force to tip precariously balanced items. {link to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if MirrorEventTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:mirror1] Mary paces behind Eleanor, her shadow stretching oddly across the floor. [if MirrorEventTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror1] *"The director specifically asked me to check on the artifacts today. Of all things to find damaged!"* [if MirrorEventTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror1 newline] Eleanor runs her fingers along the frame, careful not to touch the crack. [continue] [continue] [if MirrorEventTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:mirror2] Mary pauses her pacing, glancing nervously at the door. [if MirrorEventTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror2] *"It was covered properly yesterday. I don't understand how this happened."* [if MirrorEventTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror2 newline] Eleanor leans closer. [if MirrorEventTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror2] *"The break is clean, yet no glass fragments on the floor. What material is this?"* [continue] [continue] [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:mirror3] Mary fidgets with her collar, voice dropping to a whisper. [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror3] *"Do you think it could be... you know? The night watchmen claim this building has... presences."* [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror3 newline] Eleanor straightens, adjusting her spectacles. [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror3] *"What? No. That’s nonsense Mary, there has to be a rational explanation.* [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror3] *Though I admit, it's... odd that we cast no reflection.* [if MirrorEventTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:mirror3] *Was it always this dull?"* [continue] [continue] [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:mirror4] The lamp flickers briefly, causing both women to start. [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror4] *"My uncle will have my head if this isn't resolved,"* Mary murmurs, eyes wide. [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror4 newline] Eleanor places a reassuring hand on her arm. [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:mirror4] *"Come now, let's not panic, there-."* [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:mirror4] Mary’s head snaps towards her. [if MirrorEventTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:mirror4] *“What?! But I already am!!”* [continue] [continue]

[if MirrorPastVisited; if MirrorGuardScared; if MirrorEventFixed] But that doesn't last long. You watch as its surface glows with a soft purple light, pulsing in rhythm like a heartbeat. Eleanor and Mary stand transfixed, watching as the last evidence of damage vanishes completely. "It… well, that takes care of that ahahhh… it fixed itself. Yes, of course it did..." Mary whispers, her eyes wide with wonder. Eleanor opens her mouth - presumably to offer some kind of rational explanation-, but the words die on her lips as the mirror's surface shifts again, resolving into a clear reflection for the first time since you entered. Mary simply gasps. You turn around to catch her faint onto the floor. [[Ouch.->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 1]] [else] Mary sighs heavily, breaking the tense silence. "I suppose we should report this to the director. Though what explanation we'll give... It's not fair! It wasn't my faut this time around!" Eleanor nods reluctantly. "Perhaps we could research methods of repair first. There might be specialists in London who woooorrrrkkkk wiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttthhhhh aaaaaaaaannnnnnnttttttttiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…" The world pauses again, suspended between moments. *Something’s wrong.* You realize you're… no longer being given a choice. Try as you might you cannot proceed. The only option at your disposal is to [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Ancient Mirror Cutscene 1]]. [continue]

Eleanor rushes to her side, momentarily forgetting the mirror. But you... you turn back to the silvered surface, curious to see what could have caused such a [[startling reaction...->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 2]]

The storage room is reflected perfectly: the tall shelves laden with artifacts, the faint dust motes dancing in the lamplight, Eleanor kneeling beside Mary's prone form... and behind her, slightly to the side, stands a figure. You feel yourself making contact with the cold stone floor. [[You are no longer hovering.->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 3]]

The reflection shows a tall, emancipated being, its translucent skin shimmering with a pale-purple luminescence, its limbs elongated, with joints that are stark beneath the taut skin. It doesn’t have a mouth nor a nose - just blank eyes that glow faintly in the dark. It takes a disorientating moment to realize you might just be looking at [[yourself->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 4]].

The figure’s eyes widen. Is *this* what you have always been? Is this what you are? The image resonates with a forgotten sense of power, but also with a deep, unnerving emptiness. You notice Eleanor, still on the floor near Mary, having turned to the mirror. By her expression, it’s clear she’s also seen you. For how long? Most importantly, [[what are you meant to *do* now?->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 4.5]]

An instinct, ancient and deeply buried, surfaces. A compulsion you don't really understand, not fully. Perhaps Eleanor’s work is rubbing onto you. Maybe you just feel a need to give out *something*, anything she’ll recognize. Whatever the reason, and before you can comprehend it, your reflection's hand - *your* hand - reaches out with its thin, ethereal fingers extended towards the mirror's surface. [[You trace a familiar symbol onto the glass.->Mirror Resolution Cutscene 5]]

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] <div class="v-mark">○</div> [continue] [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] <div class="v-mark">⊙</div> [continue] [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] <div class="v-mark">☋</div> [continue] [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] <div class="v-mark">◎</div> [continue] [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] <div class="v-mark">꩜</div> [continue] The sigil flares briefly upon the mirror's surface where your translucent fingers pass, glowing with the same purple energy that healed the crack moments before. It hangs there for a second, stark against the reflection of the room. Just enough for her to spot it. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it fades. The entire surface of the mirror ripples like disturbed water, and the reflection dissolves, leading back to that [[dull, grey silver->Mirror Resolution final cutscene]].

Eleanor, having managed to prop Mary into a sitting position against a shelf, glances back up at the mirror, catching only the last flicker of its surface settling. She shakes her head, rubbing her temples. "Good heavens," she murmurs, more to herself than the groaning Mary. "I must be seeing things. Far too little sleep and far, far too much work...." She helps Mary to her feet, steadying her. "Come on, Mary. Let's get you out of here. Let's get you some air." Supporting the still-dazed Mary, Eleanor guides her out of the storage room, firmly closing the door behind her. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'The day draws to a close.'}

SlotTwoAttended: true -- The museum café occupies a low ceiling room, its pale walls doing little to brighten the space. A few overhead windows let a little light over the dozen or so tables, most already claimed by the remaining staff and the occasional visitor. A blackboard displays today's offerings in neat chalk script: beef and barley soup, cheese sandwiches, and bread pudding. Eleanor joins the short queue, fishing in her pocket for coins while eyeing the food. The woman behind the counter - a matron with permanently flour-dusted hands - nods in recognition. "The usual, Ellie?" [[Eleanor nods back.->Museum Cafe Cutscene 2]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- Tray in hand, Eleanor navigates to a small table in the corner, beneath a frosted window that offers a view of passing feet on the pavement above. The sandwich is predictable: slightly dry bread, a conservative layer of cheese, and a limp piece of lettuce for appearance's sake. The tea, at least, seems to be hot and strong. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] She's halfway through her meal when Violet Whitlock appears at her side, clutching a steaming mug and a folder of papers. "Mind if I join you? The director wants these cataloguing forms revised by tomorrow." Without waiting for a response, she pulls out the chair opposite. [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] She's barely started eating when Mary slides into the chair across from her, eyes bright with excitement. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere. Did you hear? The Duke made a substantial donation after yesterday's tour - specifically for new acquisitions!" [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] She eats methodically, savoring the few moments of solitude. Around her, conversations blend into a soft murmur - budget concerns from the restoration department, complaints about a leaking skylight in the west wing, and speculation about which trustees might attend next month's gala. [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] She eats methodically, grateful for the relative quiet. Her solitude is short-lived when two porters take the adjacent table, their conversation loudly revolving around the day's deliveries. [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] She eats methodically, letting her mind drift toward her research as she chews the unremarkable sandwich. Two curators from the Greek collection occupy the table beside hers, their hushed voices barely audible above the general clatter of cutlery. [continue] [[The minutes tick by.->Museum Cafe Cutscene 3]]

Eleanor dabs the corners of her mouth with her napkin, checking the wall clock - quite a short break, this one. You watch as she stacks her plate and cup neatly on the tray, rising with a barely audible sigh. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] *"I'll look over these tonight,"* Violet says, accepting the folder Eleanor slides back across the table. *"Between us, I'm not sure why we're cataloguing Roman pottery when far more... *significant* artifacts remain packed in crates. A waste of our time, really. Oh well."* As she leaves, she takes a moment to look... somewhere behind you? You must have missed whatever was there. {embed passage: 'Overheard Tuesday (Adding to Violet Counter)'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] "Just think what we could acquire with proper funding," Mary continues, following Eleanor as she deposits her tray. *"Oh! Before I forget - my uncle asked if you'd completed that report on the Celtic bronzes. I told him you were busy! So no rush, of course, none at all, ahah."* Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. Is she upset? It's hard to tell with her. [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] As she deposits her tray at the collection point, Eleanor overhears an assistant from Acquisitions: "...completely authentic, and they're practically giving it away. If the director would just approve the purchase..." {embed passage: 'Overheard Monday'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] As you follow her as she deposits her tray at the collection point, you are both moving away from them. And yet, even while ascending the stairs back up to Eleanor's floor, you can still hear one of them. "...strange crate came in this morning... yes, an odd v-symbol...straight to the Mika's private collection... no, I don't know why! That's where his lady told me to put it... yes, yes, very funny... now shut up!" {embed passage: 'Overheard Thursday'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Overheard Friday'} [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back to work.'}

MuseumEntranceIntroTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): MuseumEntranceIntroTurns + 1 -- [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns == 1] {embed passage: 'Museum Entrance Desc 1'} [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns == 2] {embed passage: 'Museum Entrance Desc 2'} [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns == 3] {embed passage: 'Museum Entrance Desc 3'} [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns == 4] Your inspection of the entrance hall is cut short. Eleanor's pace quickens as she approaches the eastern staircase, her gloved hand brushing the brass railing. The marble caryatids stare blankly over her shoulders as she begins her ascent - [[you are forced to follow along->Intro 2.2]]. [if MuseumEntranceIntroTurns > 4] [[You follow Eleanor upstairs->Intro 2.2]]. [note] Fallback case, should not normally be reached, redirects to avoid getting stuck. [continue]

Your heart flutters against your ribs as you handle the bottle. What if she notices? What if she asks questions? Father's system is dishonest, but though you hate to admit it, it does work to boost sales. "Some patients need the treatment but would refuse it if labeled properly," he always says. What a load of bullshit. We’re just after the coin here - I know it, he knows it, could he just be honest with his only daughter for once? Just get through this transaction. Don't make eye contact for too long. {plainlink to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DayCalories: 0 DayFullnessState: 'HUNGRY' CurrentDay: NextDay -- {embed passage: 'Fix for Lack of Expert Consultation'} [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Start Day Tuesday'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Start Day Wednesday'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'Start Day Thursday'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Start Day Friday'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [if CurrentDay == 'WEEKEND'; unless VioletPlotStealVessel; unless RichardEngagment] {embed passage: 'Chapter 2 Progression Ending Router'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEEKEND'; if VioletPlotStealVessel] {embed passage: 'Start Day Museum Basement (Violet Final Event)'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEEKEND'; if RichardEngagment] {embed passage: 'Chapter 2 Pregnancy Ending'} [note] The *succesful* end of Richard's picnic/excursion, and Mary's gala, will have to link to here (because if succesful Eleanor does not return home on Friday night, Day End Passage and Day End cutscene 2 are skipped). (that means that Day End Passage Logic will have to be embedded at those ending passages too). [continue]

dialogue.speed: 'normal' config.footer.center: "{save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} | {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}" -- Dialogue speed has been set to **normal**. {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

[note] This tracks Eleanor's fullness throughout a single day: - HUNGRY: 0-2 calories (hungry) - SATISFIED: 3-4 calories (comfortably fed, normal) - STUFFED: 6-8 calories (very full, uncomfortable) - BURSTING: 9+ calories (painfully overstuffed) [continue] [note] Her office space. Still to develop, but we do know that we will have a bookshelf, a desk, some artefacts on top of the shelves, paper and sketches, a calendar (where we will eventually be able to edit her work timeline) and the inventory objects quill and paper. If you're wondering about the need for embeds, I simply want to make it easier to distinguish between the intro event, where she's called into a meeting, and the actual office in the early morning, before Eleanor arrives in the next days. [continue] [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Tuesday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Wednesday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Thursday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Office (Friday)'} [continue]

You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk appears to have been hastily organized - your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]] sits beside a nearly ordered pile of documents. [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] stands near. [if BallInvitationGained]] [append] There's an opened [[invitation]] with ornate script on the floor. [continue] {embed passage: 'Eleanor Office WeightGained Descriptions'} To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]].

{embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Intro'}

OfficeIntroTurns: OfficeIntroTurns + 1 -- [if OfficeIntroTurns == 1] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 2] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 3] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 4] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 5] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 6] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'} [if OfficeIntroTurns == 7] Suddenly, you hear a knock coming from behind you. Without waiting for an answer, the door creaks open. A man steps in: a tall, lanky one, with a top hat that, although sitting slightly askew on his head, scrapes the top of the door frame. His face is framed by what you have to admit is a pretty impressive moustache, waxed to sharp points. His eyes, thin and sharp, sweep the room's walls before landing onto Eleanor. *"Ah. [[I guess you're here after all->Director cutscene 1]]."* he says with a deep, powerful voice. [if OfficeIntroTurns > 7] {embed passage: 'Office (Monday) Shared Descriptions'}

MatterAbility: true TimeAbility: true -- You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk faces the door, its surface buried beneath correspondence. On top of it lies your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]] alongside some ink-stained [[pens->pens office]] - behind them there's also [[Eleanor->Eleanor Office Museum]] herself, resting on her chair [if PocketWatchOfficeHint] [append] and with her [[🕰️pocket watch->pocket watch office]] hanging from her jacket. [continue] To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. [unless IntroMeetingAttended; append] Near the door is a wooden coat stand with Eleanor's waistcoat that is partially obscuring... something on the wall. [continue] Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. [if IntroMeetingAttended;append] Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]]. [continue] [if OfficeIntroTurns == 1] *This new environment is... reinvigorating. You feel a newfound strength wash over you.* [continue] [note] The calendar is missing a slot here because Monday sees the meeting as a forced first slot. The next days should just have the normal calendar. [continue]

You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk faces the door, its surface noticeably more cluttered than previous days - several opened tomes have been left askew, surrounding your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]]. The [[pens->pens office]] are joined by a stack of folded [[museum flyers]], and a [[visitor logbook]]. {embed passage: 'Eleanor Office WeightGained Descriptions'} To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]].

You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk faces the door, its surface less cluttered than yesterday - evidently she's made an effort to organize things. Your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]] sits precisely where she left it, alongside some ink-stained [[pens->pens office]]. {embed passage: 'Eleanor Office WeightGained Descriptions'} To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]]. [note] , and now also a [[business card], propped against an inkwell. , the [[artefacts] she's brought from home. Move the artefacts to be inside the bookshelves [continue]

You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->bookshelves]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window]]. Eleanor's desk faces the door, its surface showing evidence of renewed activity - several open reference books surround your [[🪦vessel->Vessel (Chapter 2)]], alongside the familiar [[pens->pens office]], [[artefacts]], and now a small stack of [[sketches]]. A [[telegraph notice]] sits atop a pile of correspondence. {embed passage: 'Eleanor Office WeightGained Descriptions'} To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->excavation chart]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office Door Blocked Off]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->calendar]].

You drift toward the door, only to feel a familiar resistance, an invisible tether binding you to... Eleanor herself? Not the vessel, this time around. How odd. You take a moment to assess the door itself, which is made of solid oak with a brass nameplate reading "~E. Lovelace, Assistant Curator~" in recently polished lettering. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

As you follow her as she deposits her tray at the collection point, you both get close enough to overhear the two. "Ah, come now, I think she's got a chance," murmurs the elder of the pair, leaning forward. The other seems to eye Eleanor, before speaking. "I honestly don't see it happening... wait, shut it, she's coming this way." [note] different comments based on how fat she has gotten. [continue]

MikaCollectionRevealed: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- [note] add an entry for the calendar for an event where Eleanor checks Mika's collection. There, she finds Violet, who's struggling to open the crate, and asks for Eleanor's help. The player will have to find a way to indirectly help, as usual. The box does end up containing an artefact related to Eleanor's research. Violet ends up touching the artefact, and is disappointed by something (in thruth, she believed the player/ghost came from that object - by touching it she secretly recognizes it as being magically inert). She ends up giving it to Eleanor. We could have an object in the room (which is a part of a larger collection, and which is also dark) give off a flash of light: just enough for the player to catch Violet's shadow being much, much larger than it should be. If VioletInterest is high enough at the end of this event, there'll be a text to have the player know that Violet is suspecting Eleanor to have the artefact she is looking for (the one tied to you). Tell you what though, this route should be accessed by mostly doing the unintuitive events - hence why you learn about the crate by going to the cafe on thursday, as the cafe is the least fattening option, and the player might not pick it in the later days. [continue]

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 --

As you focus on the amphora's black-figured curves, the glass case dissolves. A strong, overwhelming heat washes over you. [[...this is not the museum.->Past Amphora occasion 1]]

AmphoraState: 'saved' -- You focus your will, sending a resonant tremor through the amphora's base. The ceramic thrums like a struck bell, vibrations travelling up the barbarian's boot as his foot connects with the vessel. He staggers back, eyes darting to the humming artifact. The amphora rocks violently, but doesn't tip, its corked neck weeping a single tear of wine onto the marble below. "*Hexerei...*" he hisses, making a warding gesture. Roman shouts echo closer now - too close. With one last fearful glance at the quivering amphora, he bolts empty-handed toward the stables. The vision snaps shut. You recognize the lingering flavour of wine in the air. {link to: 'amphora', label: 'Back'}

The figure kicks the amphora in frustration and to move it forward, accidentally sending it rocking into a marble column. One handle shears off with a ceramic screech. He rams a cork from another nearby amphor into the neck, but the seal sits crooked. Dark liquid weeps down the side as he hefts it onto his shoulder. A stray arrow embeds itself in the villa wall as he lumbers toward waiting horses, leaving a strong trail of wine-drops behind him. The vision snaps shut. {link to: 'amphora', label: 'Back'}

A hulking figure looms over the amphora, his beard matted with soot. Scale armour hangs loose from his shoulders as he plunges a hand into the vessel's belly, as if reaching for something inside. He looks surprised when a fair amount of wine slops over the rim, soaking the wolf pelt tied at his waist. *"...Rotwein. [[Klasse!->Past Amphora occasion 2]]"* [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Past Amphora Saved]] [continue]

"Faul sein!" he snarls to himself, shaking dregs from his fingers. Behind him, a legionary's shield cracks against cobblestones - someone's coming this way and, from context clues, they don't seem to be friends with this particular barbarian. You watch intently as the barbarian struggles against the container. [[It looks to be heavier than he had anticipated.->Past Amphora ending]]. [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Past Amphora Saved]] [continue]

ApothecaryPregnantPast: true -- As you focus on the bench, the apothecary dissolves into an earlier moment. The light shifts, growing warmer as afternoon sun slants through the windows on the left. A heavily pregnant woman - perhaps 6 or 7 month in - sits on the bench, her hands resting protectively over her swollen middle. An older apothecary with black hair and slanted glasses approaches her with a brown bottle - just one out of the hundreds on display just [[behind the counter->Past Bench Cutscene 2]].

ApothecaryScalePast: true -- As you focus, the apothecary dissolves into an earlier moment. The light shifts, growing warmer as afternoon sun slants through the windows on the right. A muscular young man in sporting attire stands at the counter, his broad shoulders almost touching both walls of the narrow shop. To the other side, an older apothecary with black hair and slanted glasses is currently weighing something on the scale with careful precision. "Ah, Mr. Harrington, you are a *lucky* one. My special formula! Just came in today" the apothecary explains as he fixes a new label to a brown bottle. "Guaranteed to add at least 20 pounds before your competition. The judges prefer a more [[substantial physique->past scale cutscene 2]] in their champions, and would you look at that! I'm here to help."

"Mrs. Hamley! One pill each morning." he says eagerly. "The tonic will help with your fatigue, *and* ensure the baby grows strong." She smiles gratefully, accepting the bottle. "And you're certain it's safe?" "Ah! You're a funny one, aren't you? Come now, it's perfectly safe," he assures her. "Many expectant mothers have benefited from a little... supplemental nourishment." The vision fades, returning you to the present. {link to: 'waiting bench', label: 'Back'}

ScarabPastSeen: true -- As you focus on the small scarab, the office dissolves into a moment from the recent past. The light shifts to a warm afternoon glow coming through the window. [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] A tall man with a neatly trimmed beard stands before Eleanor's desk, holding the scarab between its fingers. His spectacles catch the light as he leans forward. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] Richard stands before Eleanor's desk, holding the scarab between careful fingers. His spectacles catch the light as he leans forward. [continue] "Just a small token," he says, placing it gently on the desk. "Found several like these in the shipment. This one's a minor duplicate - [[properly recorded, of courseThe scene begins to fade...->Past Scarab Cutscene 2]]."

"Oh, well, I couldn't possibly…" Eleanor begins, though her fingers already trace the scarab's surface with obvious interest. [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] The man shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. "Consider it a paperweight. They're… well, not exactly rare anyway.” [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] Richard shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. "Consider it a paperweight. They're… well, not exactly rare anyway.” [continue] Eleanor's expression softens. "Well, since you put it that way. Thank you." [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] "Right," he clears his throat, adjusting his spectacles nervously, "I should get back to, um… the other stuff I need to work on, yes." [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] "Right," Richard clears his throat, adjusting his spectacles nervously, "I should get back to, um… the other stuff I need to work on, yes." [continue] [append] As he hurries from the office, Eleanor carefully places the scarab atop her papers, with a small smile at her lips. The vision slowly fades back to the present. [continue] {link to: 'scarab', label: 'Back'}

As you focus on the small figure of Taweret, the exhibition hall dissolves around you. Warmth strikes your form - a dry, oppressive heat. Golden light floods a temple chamber. You watch as a pregnant woman kneels before a larger version of the statuette, her belly protruding prominently beneath fine linen robes. Her fingers trace the hippo-goddess's own swollen form as she murmurs supplications. [[The priest approaches from behind...->Past Statuette Cutscene 2]]

The priest bears a tray of offerings - dates, bread, and small cakes. His gaze never meets the woman's as he places them before the statue. "Great Taweret blesses those who grow abundant with life," he intones. "The more you honor her with sustenance, the more your own child shall thrive." The woman nods, reaching for a cake with trembling fingers. As she takes her first bite, the vision ripples, and you glimpse something curious - behind the priest, a pink, spectral form hovers... one that seems to look directly at you before the scene dissolves. {link to: 'statuette', label: 'Back'}

BronzeHelmetPastFallen: true -- As you focus on the helmet's surface, the exhibition hall shimmers. Moonlight now slants through tall windows, casting long shadows across the display cases. A young night guard leans against the plinth, his uniform cap pushed back to reveal sweat-damp hair. He spins the helmet on one finger, its horsehair crest fluttering. "Proper soldier's gear, this," he mutters to himself, "Bet this could sell for a -" [[The helmet slips.->Bronze Helmet Past Cutscene 2]]

There are a handful of fragments are arranged on a low table, their jagged edges carefully cushioned by felt. Each piece is a puzzle of marble and limestone, some no larger than a coin, others spanning the length of a hand. A magnifying glass rests beside the largest fragment, its lens catching the light from a nearby lamp. The surface of the marble is pitted and worn, but traces of pigment linger in the deeper grooves - faded blues and yellows. A handwritten label, pinned to the table's edge, reads... nothing. The curators must've forgotten to fill it in. {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The mortal mind stands unguarded against your influence. By extending your consciousness toward a person, you can hear their thoughts, fears, and desires like brightly colored threads of dialogue - each one waiting to be pulled. With gentle pressure, you can amplify certain emotions already present within them, nudging their actions in directions they might have taken anyway. {link to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Ability Menu Logic'}

TriedVibratingTheAmphoraInThePresent: true -- You focus your will toward the amphora's ceramic base, sending the same resonant pulse. The vessel shudders once, a low thrum that travels through the glass case into the marble plinth. You focus your will toward the amphora's ceramic base - the same focused pulse that sent tremors up a barbarian's boot. The ceramic responds with a low, resonant hum that travels through the glass case walls and into the marble plinth. [[The amphora shifts...->Present Amphora Vibrated 2]]

...an inch or so - no more than that. The sound it produces is. Through the ceramic walls comes the muffled slosh - thick, muffled - of liquid, shifting against its sides. The museum card flutters slightly. [[But nothing else happens.->Intro Meeting Diorama]]

IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: true -- You stand a little straighter, chin lifting slightly. Let them prattle on with their petty concerns - you're the only one here with genuine expertise. Three years at Cambridge wasn't for nothing, after all. The director hasn't even noticed how you've organized the Etruscan collection by period rather than acquisition date - a system any proper scholar would recognize as superior. You could run this department with half the budget. You could run the whole institution by yourself. These fools don't deserve your talents… but you'll have to maintain your standards regardless. Someone must uphold scholarly integrity in this institution. {plainlink to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Because, of course, there's no ice cream vendor in sight. Not anymore. Eleanor gasps as a particularly cold rivulet finds its way down her collar, tracing a path between her shoulder blades. She abandons any pretence of dignity, lifting her heavy skirt slightly as she hurries back the way she came, splashing through a number of puddles, soaking her shoes and stockings thoroughly. The fabric of her blouse, now basically transparent, clings uncomfortably to her skin, outlining the curve of her soft belly and the swell of her breasts with unwelcome clarity. She ducks under the eave of a closed shop, shivering slightly as she waits for the worst of the rain to pass before continuing her journey home. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back towards the flat, then.'}

The egyptologist, Richard, is standing in the middle of all of his artefacts, tall and lean with a neatly trimmed beard. His tweed jacket has seen better days, the elbows worn from leaning over display cases for hours. Though scatterbrained and quickly moving from one thing to the next with no discernable plan, he shifts artifacts in a very careful and deliberate manner: he clearly values them. His squared spectacles slide down his nose as he works, and he absently pushes them back up with an ink-stained finger. [if passage.visits == 2] *Some of the ink has made it over to the lenses. You watch as he struggles to clean it off by rubbing his glasses over his jacket, only making things worse.* [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardCompliment; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Richard Exhibition persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless RichardFullDoubt; unless RichardCompliment] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Richard's mind. His thoughts are a jumbled maze of exhibition layouts, artifact dates, and nervous energy. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**APPRECIATION**->Appreciation Richard Persuasion]] *She's quite bold, isn't she? That expedition she's been pressing for... Perhaps you should say something.* ➼[[**DOUBT**->Doubt Richard Persuasion]] *No, no, focus on the work. She's just being collegial. Don't embarrass yourself.* ➼[[**AWE**->Awe Richard Persuasion]] *These treasures... three thousand years of history in your very own hands.* [continue] [if RichardFullDoubt] Richard's mind has retreated behind walls of scholarly detachment. His thoughts circle obsessively around the exhibition, deliberately avoiding any acknowledgment of Eleanor's presence. Your influence finds no purchase in his carefully maintained distance. [if RichardCompliment] Richard's thoughts now flow in a new direction, his usual academic focus tinged with a warmth whenever Eleanor comes near. You find no need to press further. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit1] Eleanor approaches one of the display cases, studying the hieroglyphics on a small statuette. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"This arrangement is fascinating, Richard. Will you be grouping by dynasty or function?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit1 newline] He glances up and immediately back down, barely making eye contact. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"Oh! By dynasty, yes. It's the only sensible approach. Less likely to confuse the general public."* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit2] Eleanor lifts a fragmentary papyrus, her brow furrowing. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit2] *"This restoration is quite remarkable. Was it done here?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit2 newline] Richard carefully places a canopic jar on its stand, maintaining distance. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit2] *"Cairo. Professor Mahmoud's work. I've far too much to manage already."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:exhibit2] His gaze remains fixed on the artifacts, shoulders tense. [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit3] Richard unrolls a diagram of the exhibition layout, holding it at arm's length. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] *"If we move these cases, we could improve the flow..."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3 newline] Eleanor nods, stepping closer. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit3] *"Yes, that works much better. The lighting would draw visitors naturally."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] He shifts away slightly, clearing his throat. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3] *"Quite. Quite right. I'll make a note of it."* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit4] Eleanor adjusts the angle of a small statue of Anubis. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit4] *"There. Much more imposing this way."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit4 newline] Richard glances at her work, then quickly away. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] *"Yes, well... adequate placement. Thank you."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] He returns to his notes, shoulders hunched. [continue] [continue]

[if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit1] Eleanor approaches one of the display cases, studying the hieroglyphics on a small statuette. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"Richard? Have you decided on the arrangement yet?"* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit1 newline] She glances around the empty room, frowning. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit1] *"Richard? Where have you gotten to now?"* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit2] Eleanor lifts a fragmentary papyrus, her brow furrowing. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit2] *"How odd. He was just here a moment ago..."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit2 newline] She sets down her notes and peers behind a display case. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit2] *"Richard? Did you go to fetch something?"* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit3] Eleanor adjusts her spectacles, unrolling a diagram of the exhibition layout. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit3] *"Richard? Well, I suppose I'll have to manage on my own. Typical."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit3 newline] She sighs, moving a display case herself. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit3] *"Men. Always disappearing when there's actual work to be done."* [continue] [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:exhibit4] A distant thumping draws Eleanor's attention momentarily. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:exhibit4] *"Must be the workers replacing those floorboards upstairs."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1 id:exhibit4 newline] She returns to her work, completely missing the frantic rhythm of the sounds. [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] *"If Richard thinks he can simply wander off and return to take credit for my arrangements, he is sorely mistaken."* [if ExhibitDioramaTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:exhibit4] She adjusts the angle of a display with a satisfied nod. [continue] [continue]

RichardTrapped: true --

[if RichardFullDoubt] The sarcophagus's wooden surface trembles beneath your will. As Richard leans in to examine the hieroglyphs along its edge, the ornately painted lid shifts imperceptibly. A soft click echoes as ancient mechanisms, long seized with age, suddenly release. The heavy lid swings upward with surprising force, creating a momentary shadow that draws Richard's attention. His surprise lasts only a moment before gravity reclaims the ancient wood. [[The lid crashes down.->Sarcophagus Aether Cutscene 2]] {embed passage: 'RichardTrapped set to true'} [unless RichardFullDoubt] The sarcophagus's wooden surface trembles beneath your will. As Richard leans in to examine the hieroglyphs along its edge, the ornately painted lid shifts imperceptibly. "Eleanor," he calls, adjusting his spectacles, "would you take a look at these cartouches? I believe they're from the 19th dynasty, but there's something peculiar about the styling." She approaches, and together they lean over the sarcophagus. The lid gives another subtle tremble, but with two people now watching, it merely settles back into place with a soft creak. "Hmm..." Eleanor trails off, already lost in analysis. {link to: 'sarcophagi', label: 'Back'} [continue]

The lid comes down with a resonant *thud*, swallowing Richard entirely. A muffled cry emerges from within, quickly followed by frantic pounding. Eleanor, engrossed in her notes across the room, doesn't look up. "Did you say something, Richard?" she calls absently, still writing. The pounding grows more insistent, but the thick wood transforms it into something resembling distant construction work - easily ignored in a museum constantly under renovation. You hear Richard's muffled pleas, but they're unintelligible through the ancient cedar. How unfortunate. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'APOTHECARY' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'AUCTION' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'LEISURE_CAFE' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'GARDEN' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'GEOLOGY' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'GRAVE' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'MARKET' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'SOCIETY_BALL' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'TRAIN' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'BAKERY' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'BANK' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'DESK' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'DIRECTOR' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'MARY' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'TRANSLATION' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: "ICECREAM" -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'CATALOGUING' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: "EXHIBITION" -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} *...why is this task troubling her so much? Try as you might, you cannot get the ink to reveal more information about the exhibition. That should surprise you: it is just ink.* {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: "EXHIBITION_EGYPT" -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'EXPERT' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'LECTURE' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: "RESEARCH" -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'TOUR' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent: 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

config.footer.center: "{embed passage: 'Settings Menu Logic'}" -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [CSS] /* Style for the Settings Page */ .settings-page { text-align: center; /* Center all content */ max-width: 600px; /* Optional: Limit width */ margin: 1em auto; /* Center the block itself, add top/bottom margin */ } /* Style for section headings */ .settings-heading { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 24px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 0.2em; border-bottom: 1px solid currentColor; display: inline-block; /* Keeps border tight to text */ } /* Optional styling for the speed selection links */ .speed-link { display: inline-block; /* Allow margin/padding */ margin: 0 0.5em 0.5em; /* Space between links */ /* Add any specific link styling here if needed */ } /* Specific styling for the 'Back' link at the bottom */ .settings-back-link { display: block; /* Put on its own line */ margin-top: 2.5em; /* Space above */ } [continue] <div class="settings-page"> <div class="settings-heading">DIALOGUE SPEED</div> <div class="speed-selection"> {cycling link for: 'dialogue.speed', choices: ['Slow', 'Normal', 'Fast', 'Instant']} </div> <div class="settings-heading">ASCII BACKDROPS</div> <div class="speed-selection"> {cycling link for: 'AsciiBackdrop_Enabled', choices: ['On', 'Off']} </div> <div class="settings-back-link"> {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} </div> </div> [note] <div class="settings-heading">DEBUG</div> <div class="speed-selection"> [[Debug Menu->Debug Menu CH2]] </div> [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Settings Menu Logic'}

You near closer. Just by looking at the object, you find yourself inexplicably aware of Eleanor's routines, of her tasks, duties, responsabilities - of all the paths she could be taking. [if SlotOneAttended; append] You've lost your chance to influence her morning, but now that you're back inside her office, you might yet have time for a few adjustments. [continue] [continue] [continue] [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'; unless SlotOneAttended] {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} [unless CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} [continue] {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {link to: 'calendar', label: 'Back'}

<div class="time-heading">MORNING DUTIES</div> [if SlotOneEvent == 'INTRO MEETING'; unless IntroMeetingAttended] Her chair scrapes backward as she stands, sending several ledger pages fluttering to the floor. She hefts her workbag away from the desk and pauses to adjust her waistcoat, its seams protesting across her constrained belly. Her fingers brush the door's wooden frame before she hurriedly steps into the corridor and heads to the left wing, leaving the door of her office ajar and pulling you into the hallway. {plainlink to: 'Director cutscene 3', label: 'You\'re off to work.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'EXHIBITION_EGYPT'] The office feels confining as Eleanor stands, adjusting her waistcoat with a small tug. She gathers a couple of notes she's prepared and heads toward the northwest wing. Having a look at them as you follow her, you come to understand that the museum's Egyptian collection is currently being prepared for an upcoming exhibition. Though the Egyptologist has not requested assistance, Eleanor supposes it won't hurt to give them a hand. {plainlink to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Cutscene 1', label: 'You\'re off to work.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'RESEARCH'; unless ResearchCompleted] Eleanor closes her office door firmly, and you catch a glint in her eyes. Today, the museum's demands will have to wait. You watch as she clears a space on her cluttered desk, laying out the sketches and notes from her personal project. {plainlink to: 'Research Router', label: 'Sitting down, she begins her research.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW'; unless ArchiveReviewAttended] Eleanor descends the staircase, smoothing her waistcoat as she heads toward the museum's lower level archives. The hall clock signals the start of the workday, though the archives are notoriously quiet at this hour. {plainlink to: 'Archive Review Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her as she pushes open the heavy archive door.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH'; unless PrivateResearchAttended] You watch as Eleanor finds a small, stiff card tucked beneath her office door. Violet Whitlock's handwriting, as precise and angular as ever, simply states: "*Miss Lovelace. Regarding our discussion on script anomalies. My office. Ten sharp.*" {plainlink to: 'Violet Private Research Cutscene 1', label: 'With that, she checks the time and heads to Violet Whitlock\'s office.'} [continue] [if SlotOneEvent == 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION'] Eleanor stands with unusual care, smoothing her skirts and checking her appearance in the small mirror beside her desk. She gathers a leather satchel - different from her usual workbag - and slips on her outdoor coat. She glances once more at Richard's note about meeting at the station, checking the hour for the third time already. Her fingers trace the door frame briefly before she steps into the corridor, pulling the office door closed behind her and drawing you with her. {plainlink to: 'Weekend Expedition Cutscene 1', label: 'Off to the countryside.'} [if SlotOneEvent == 'CATALOGUING'] Eleanor slides open her desk drawer with a practiced motion, retrieving a clipboard and pen. She checks the small timepiece pinned to her waistcoat, noting the early hour, then gathers several blank inventory forms from a neat stack. The museum's storage rooms await her attention, filled with artifacts requiring proper documentation before they can be moved to display cases. She adjusts her skirt and heads toward the service corridor, clipboard tucked under her arm. [if SlotOneEvent == 'CATALOGUING'; if CataloguingTimes == 0] {plainlink to: 'Museum Inventory Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her down the narrow hallway.'} [if SlotOneEvent == 'CATALOGUING'; if CataloguingTimes >= 1] {plainlink to: 'Museum Inventory Repeat Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her toward the service stairs.'} [continue] [continue]

<div class="time-heading">AFTERNOON LEISURE</div> [if SlotThreeEvent == 'ICECREAM'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The afternoon's work concludes with Eleanor filing away the last of her notes. She consults her pocket watch, tidies her desk with practiced efficiency, and retrieves her hat from its hook. The day's tasks complete, she signs out at the front desk and steps into the late afternoon sunlight, parasol unfurled against the mild weather. [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'ICECREAM'; unless SlotThreeAttended; unless CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {plainlink to: 'Ice Cream Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her toward the park.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'ICECREAM'; unless SlotThreeAttended; if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {plainlink to: 'Ice Cream Rain Cutscene 1', label: 'Unfortunately for her, the weather does not stay mild for long.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'APOTHECARY'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The afternoon light wavers as Eleanor concludes her duties with an unfamiliar haste. She massages her temples as she collects her workbag, signing out of the museum with a pained grimace. When the doorman asks her about her health, her reply is fairly abrupt "Just a headache. Nothing that can't be remedied." You certainly hope so. {plainlink to: 'Apothecary Starting Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her to the apothecary.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'TRAIN'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The afternoon's work finally done, Eleanor gathers her belongings. Instead of heading straight home, she retrieves a small sketchbook and pencil from her desk drawer. A change of scenery might prove inspiring for her, you reckon. {plainlink to: 'Train Station Cutscene 1', label: 'She heads towards the station.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GARDEN'; unless GardenPartyAttended] The museum clock chimes the end of the workday. Eleanor tidies her desk with a sigh, collecting her workbag and hat. Mary's insistence on attending this garden party feels frivolous, but perhaps the fresh air *will* do her some good. Out of the museum, {plainlink to: 'Garden Party Cutscene 1', label: 'she heads towards the treasurer\'s residence.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; unless VioletCrateAttended; if VioletCratePathAChosen] The end of the workday arrives, but Eleanor's day is not yet over. She gathers a small notebook and pencil, her expression a mixture of professional curiosity and slight trepidation. She navigates the less-travelled corridors of the administrative wing, heading for the restricted Mika Collection room. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Cutscene 1 Path A', label: 'Violet is waiting for her.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA'; unless VioletCrateAttended; if VioletCratePathBChosen] With the day's formal duties concluded, Eleanor's thoughts turn to the whispered-about crate. Driven by a hunch, she makes her way to the quiet, dusty corridor housing the Mika Collection. The door is slightly ajar, a sliver of dim light escaping from within. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Cutscene 1 Path B', label: 'She pushes it open quietly.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'GEOLOGY'; unless SocietyBallAttended] Eleanor gathers her notes with care, double-checking her sketches of the Breton symbols. "The Duke's geological theories," she murmurs to herself, practicing her approach. "Surely there must be some connection..." Her voice trails off as she realizes how tenuous her reasoning sounds even to her own ears. {plainlink to: 'Geology Club Starting Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her to the Duke\'s estate.'} [continue] [if SlotThreeEvent == 'SOCIETY_BALL'; unless SocietyBallAttended] The afternoon draws to a close as Eleanor retrieves her gloves and evening bag. Mary's invitation weighs heavily on her mind - the promised gown, the introductions, the society connections that could prove so valuable for her expedition. She adjusts her waistcoat one final time, acutely aware of how it strains across her middle. The carriage ride to the grand ballroom feels both endless and far too brief. {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Starting Cutscene 1', label: 'The evening awaits.'} [if SlotThreeEvent == 'LEISURE_CAFE'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The evening tram arrives with its familiar clatter. Eleanor boards among the other passengers - shop clerks and office workers heading home, a woman with market baskets, two gentlemen discussing business in low tones. She settles near a window, watching the city blocks roll past until the conductor calls out her stop. Willoughby's café sits on the corner, warm gaslight already glowing behind its lace-curtained windows. Eleanor pushes through the heavy glass door. {plainlink to: 'Cafe Visit Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her inside.'} [if SlotThreeEvent == 'MARKET'; unless SlotThreeAttended] The afternoon draws to its close as Eleanor sorts her final documents into neat stacks. She checks her pocket watch, secures her workbag - she even retrieves one of her fanciest hats from its peg. Through the office window, the sounds of street vendors and distant music drift upward - the market fair has established itself in the square below. Eleanor adjusts her gloves as she signs out at the reception desk. {plainlink to: 'Market Fair Cutscene 1', label: 'She steps into the bustling afternoon.'} [continue] [continue]

This is where the SlotThree Events that were not on Thursday were to go before I decided to scrap the Ancient Mirror Event as a forced event for the day. The best ending (High WeightGained, High ExpeditionFunds) now shouldn't rely on that apparition anymore. Plus, the Spirit's shape is best left unsaid (safe for Violet's route ending, but that's obviously an exception to the rule).

<div class="time-heading">MIDDAY RESPITE</div> [if SlotTwoEvent == 'CAFE'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor descends the staircase, smoothing her waistcoat as she heads toward the museum's lower level. The hall clock signals the lunch hour, and her stomach provides its own rumbling confirmation. The basement café beckons - close, moderately priced, and requiring minimal effort. {plainlink to: 'Museum Cafe Cutscene 1', label: 'It\'s time for a much-needed break.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BAKERY'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor descends the staircase, brushing past the cleaning staff as they work. Her stomach rumbles softly - you can feel that her morning's breakfast was rushed. The bakery across the street, with its sweet confections, should hopefully offer more appealing items than the museum's café. {plainlink to: 'Bakery Cutscene 1', label: 'You follow her as she crosses the street.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TAVERN'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor pauses at her office door, adjusting her gloves with unusual care. The Crown & Anchor isn't quite the sort of establishment a respectable lady would typically frequent alone, but their reputation for hearty, traditional fare has captured her attention. She steels herself for the curious glances her presence might attract. {plainlink to: 'Tavern Cutscene 1', label: 'The tavern\'s weathered sign creaks overhead as she approaches.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TEAROOM'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor collects her small coin purse and adjusts her attire, ensuring every detail is impeccable. The new tea room on High Street has quickly gained a reputation among the city's more refined circles - precisely the sort of establishment where she might encounter potential expedition supporters among the clientele, among... other pursuits. {plainlink to: 'Tea Room Cutscene 1', label: 'The elegant facade comes into view..'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DELICATESSEN'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Curiosity brightens Eleanor's expression as she gathers her things. The German delicatessen represents an opportunity for cultural exploration - surely sampling continental cuisine could provide valuable insights for her archaeological work. At least, that's how she's justifing this to herself. {plainlink to: 'Delicatessen Cutscene 1', label: 'The unfamiliar aromas drift from the establishment as she approaches.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'PIECART'; unless SlotTwoAttended] The rumble of cart wheels on cobblestones draws Eleanor's attention to the window. The pie vendor has arrived right on schedule, his mobile stall positioned conveniently near the museum's entrance. Quick, practical, and surprisingly substantial - exactly what her busy schedule demands. {plainlink to: 'Pie Cart Cutscene 1', label: 'She hurries down to catch him before he moves on.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'HAMPER'; unless HamperDeliveryAttended] Eleanor reviews her appointment book one final time, then reaches for her correspondence folder. The Harrods hamper represents a calculated investment - the expense is considerable, but having quality refreshments on hand could prove essential should any potential benefactors make unexpected visits. {plainlink to: 'Hamper Delivery Cutscene 1', label: 'She composes the order with careful deliberation.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'CHARITABLELUNCHEON'; unless CharitableLuncheonAttended] Eleanor examines her reflection in the small mirror beside her desk, ensuring her appearance meets the exacting standards expected at such gatherings. The Ladies' Charitable Luncheon represents both an opportunity and a challenge - she must navigate the complex social dynamics while subtly promoting her expedition goals. {plainlink to: 'Charitable Luncheon Cutscene 1', label: 'The carriage ride to the venue allows time to rehearse her approach.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BENEFACTOR'; unless BenefactorLunchAttended] A messenger's knock interrupts Eleanor's morning routine - an unexpected but promising development. The impromptu lunch invitation from a museum patron requires immediate attention and her most diplomatic demeanor. Such opportunities for direct funding discussions are rare and precious. {plainlink to: 'Benefactor Lunch Cutscene 1', label: 'She hastily gathers her most persuasive materials.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DIRECTOR'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor ascends the main staircase, her steps deliberate. The Director agreed to this brief luncheon meeting in his office - a chance, finally, to formally present her expedition proposal. She clutches her notes tightly, pausing outside the imposing mahogany door to smooth her attire and take a steadying breath. {plainlink to: 'Director Lunch Cutscene 1', label: 'She knocks twice, firmly.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'MARY'; unless SlotTwoAttended] The chimes of a nearby church signal midday. Eleanor glances at her calendar - "Tea w/ M." is scribbled beside the lunch hour. She retrieves her gloves and coin purse, tidies her desk briefly, and heads out, making her way towards a tearoom just a few streets away. You follow along. {plainlink to: 'Tea With Mary Cutscene 1', label: 'The familiar chime of a bell greets her entrance.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'TRANSLATION'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor checks her pocket watch, a small smile playing on her lips. You watch as she gathers a specific folder of notes related to script comparisons and heads out of the museum, navigating the familiar streets towards the place he suggested, a sense of pleasant anticipation accompanying her steps. {plainlink to: 'Translation Session Cutscene 1', label: 'The pub\'s painted sign swings gently overhead as she approaches.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'DESK'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor glances at the clock, then back at the mounting paperwork before her. The lunch hour approaches, but her research demands attention. She settles more deeply into her chair, resigned to spending the midday period at her desk rather than venturing out. {plainlink to: 'Working Lunch Cutscene 1', label: 'Another working lunch it is.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BANK'; unless BankMeetingAttended] The museum clock chimes noon. Eleanor collects her portfolio containing the loan proposal and carefully secures her hat. Taking a deep breath, she leaves the relative familiarity of the Institute and heads towards the city's financial district, navigating the bustling pavements towards Thorne & Sons Banking House. [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BANK'; unless BankMeetingAttended; if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY' || CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {plainlink to: 'Bank Meeting Thorne Cutscene 1', label: 'The imposing building looms ahead. She takes a steadying breath.'} [continue] [if SlotTwoEvent == 'BANK'; unless BankMeetingAttended; unless CurrentDay == 'MONDAY' || CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {plainlink to: 'Bank Meeting Cutscene 1', label: 'The imposing building looms ahead.'}

dialogue.speed: 'slow' config.footer.center: "{save to file: 'Save'} | {load save: 'Load'} | {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}" -- Dialogue speed has been set to **slow**. {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneEvent (!ExpertConsultationAttended): 'EXPERT' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !WeekendExpeditionAttended && DateProposed && TranslationSessionAttended): 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && VioletArchiveSuccessful): 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && MikaCollectionRevealed): 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' SlotThreeEvent (VioletCrateAttended && !SocietyBallAttended && BallInvitationGained): 'SOCIETY_BALL' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && !MikaCollectionRevealed && !SocietyBallAttended && BallInvitationGained): 'SOCIETY_BALL' SlotThreeEvent: 'TRAIN' -- <div class="day-heading">FRIDAY</div> <div class="day-subtitle">END OF THE WEEK</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[back into Eleanor's office->Office]].

SlotOneEvent (!ArchiveReviewAttended): 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !PrivateResearchAttended && VioletArchiveSuccessful): 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!TeaWithMaryAttended): 'MARY' SlotTwoEvent (TeaWithMaryAttended): 'TEAROOM' SlotThreeEvent (!ApothecaryVisited): 'APOTHECARY' SlotThreeEvent (ApothecaryVisited): 'ICECREAM' -- <div class="day-heading">THURSDAY</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[back into Eleanor's office->Office]].

SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!BankMeetingAttended): 'BANK' SlotTwoEvent (BankMeetingAttended): 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent (!MarketVisited): 'MARKET' SlotThreeEvent (MarketVisited): 'TRAIN' -- {embed passage: 'Bought Variable Set'} [CSS] .purchase-page { text-align: center; max-width: 600px; margin: 1em auto; } .purchase-heading { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 32px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; margin-bottom: 1em; border-bottom: 1px solid currentColor; display: inline-block; } .purchase-section { margin: 1.5em 0; padding: 0.5em; background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.1); border-radius: 5px; text-align: left; } .price-highlight { font-weight: bold; font-size: 1.1em; } .purchase-links { margin: 1em 0; } .purchase-back-link { display: block; margin-top: 1em; text-align: center; } [continue] [if Bought] <div class="day-heading">TUESDAY</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[back into Eleanor's office->Office]]. [unless Bought] <div class="purchase-page"> <div class="purchase-heading">End of CH.2 Demo</div> Well then, you've made it through Eleanor's first full day at the museum - that’s nice to see! Unfortunately, that does mark the end of the free portion of Chapter 2- **“Daemon”**. If you'd like to continue following Eleanor's story through the rest of the week, **the full chapter is available for purchase below**. Or on my {link to: 'https://www.patreon.com/Darkeyev2', label: 'Patreon'}, at a discount! Along with some other random goodies. You can save right here, then load your save file into the paid version to pick up exactly where you left off - no progress will be lost. You'll just need to [[click here->Start Day Tuesday]] to refresh the page. If you've gotten this far, you probably have a sense of whether this kind of story appeals to you. For those who do enjoy it and end up buying it, I do *genuinely* appreciate the support! {ascii backdrop: 'distortion'}

SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns == 0): 'EXHIBITION_EGYPT' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!TranslationSessionAttended && DateProposed): 'TRANSLATION' SlotTwoEvent (TranslationSessionAttended): 'TEAROOM' SlotTwoEvent (!DateProposed): 'TEAROOM' SlotThreeEvent: 'LEISURE_CAFE' -- <div class="day-heading">WEDNESDAY</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[back into Eleanor's office->Office]].

{embed passage: 'Overheard Tuesday (Adding to Violet Counter)'}

{embed passage: 'Start Day Tuesday'}

Time slips around you like water through a river. By focusing your will, you can glimpse moments from an object's past - witnessing how it came to be in its current state. You've grown strong enough not to need a measly watch to guide you through it. These visions may clearest with items that have experienced significant events, revealing fragments of their own personal history. The mortals of this era are obsessed with measuring time; you're getting to learn how to bend it instead. {link to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

The vessel sits exactly as you Eleanor left it, a small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. You're not sure if it's pregnant or merely fat. Unlike in Eleanor's flat, you can hear a low hum coming from it. The granite also has a subtle warmth to it, which you can feel as you float closer to it. {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

Ms. Whitlock stands beside the display case, her tall figure accentuated not by a blouse, but by a tailored suit - an adaptation of men's fashion, you guess. It looks good on her. Her gray-streaked hair is pulled into a severe bun, not a strand out of place. Her pen scratches across her clipboard as she catalogues the artifacts. When she glances up, her spectacles catch the light, momentarily obscuring her sharp eyes. Her thin lips press into a line - not quite disapproval, but… it can’t be anything positive. She keeps her distance from the others. {one of: ["*Her spectacles catch the light once again. What’s causing it? Is it a reflection from one of the artefacts?*", "*You catch her lips turn into a smile. Just for a second.*", "*As you float in front of her, you see that smile again.*", "*For a moment, you get the impression her eyes are following you around.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Violet persuasion menu]] [continue]

[if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5; if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; unless MarbleBustsFallen] [[Ms. Whitlock->Violet Intro Meeting]]'s pen scratches across her clipboard as she inspects a series of [[marble busts]]. [if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5; if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] [[Ms. Whitlock->Violet Intro Meeting]]'s pen pauses as her attention shifts from the the remains of the [[marble busts]] to Eleanor and the teetering amphora. [if IntroMeetingTurns <= 5; if IntroMeetingTurns >= 2; if MarbleBustsFallen; if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] [[Ms. Whitlock->Violet Intro Meeting]]'s pen scratches across her clipboard as her attention shifts back to the [[marble busts]] - better yet, their remains. [if PastryCartVisible; append] Nearby now also sits the [[pastry cart->pastry cart Intro Meeting]] you just moved.

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'base'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Ms. Whitlock's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, meticulously organized, like carefully cataloged artifacts. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**CONTEMPT**->Contempt Violet Intro Meeting]] *Surrounded by incompetents. None of them understand true dedication.* ➼[[**LONGING**->Hunger Violet Intro Meeting]] *Not. Now. Must. Focus.* ➼[[**DETACHMENT**->Detachment Violet Intro Meeting]] *None of this matters.* [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'saved'] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Ms. Whitlock's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, meticulously organized, like carefully cataloged artifacts. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**CONTEMPT**->Contempt Violet Intro Meeting]] *Surrounded by incompetents. None of them understand true dedication.* ➼[[**LONGING**->Hunger Violet Intro Meeting]] *Not. Now. Must. Focus.* ➼[[**DETACHMENT**->Detachment Violet Intro Meeting]] *None of this matters.* [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'broken'] Ms. Whitlock's focus on documenting the damage to the amphora creates a mental barrier your influence cannot penetrate. [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] Ms. Whitlock's clinical assessment of Eleanor's condition makes her thoughts impenetrable to your influence. [unless IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion; if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] Ms. Whitlock's analytical observation of the precarious amphora creates a barrier your influence cannot breach. [continue] [if IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion] You can't quite put your finger on it, but Ms. Whitlock's thoughts seem to have grown… guarded. Completely closed off to you. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor enters her flat with brisk steps, closing the door firmly behind her. Her movements are sharp despite the fatigue evident in her posture. She rolls her shoulders, wincing slightly as she works out the kinks from a long day. She proceeds to the sitting room, unbuttoning her waistcoat as she walks. The garment comes off easily, followed by her cravat and blouse. Her corset follows, revealing her soft torso - slightly rounded, but no more than usual. Her modest breasts settle naturally once freed from their confinement. She retrieves a letter from the mantelpiece, scanning its contents with a critical eye before setting it aside with a huff. With a weary sigh, she climbs the stairs to her bedroom, her stomach quietly protesting from the lack of food. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor enters her flat with measured steps, the day's work evident in her slightly slumped shoulders. She moves directly to the sitting room, untying her cravat as she crosses the threshold. You watch as she settles onto the edge of the couch to remove her shoes with a soft sigh of relief. Standing again, she methodically removes her outer layers until she's down to her chemise. Her soft belly protrudes just slightly, rounding gently where it had been constrained all day, while her hips curve subtly beneath the thin fabric - carrying just enough padding to soften her silhouette. She takes a moment to adjust the brass clock on her fireplace's mantel, winding it carefully before making her way upstairs, her movements relaxed and unhurried. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor enters her flat, her movements slow as she closes the door behind her. She makes her way to the sitting room, fingers already working at her waistcoat buttons. The tight garment comes off with visible relief, followed quickly by her blouse and corset. Her pale belly bulges forward noticeably once freed, taut and round from the day's meals - the fullness seems to accentuate the softness of her thighs, which press together as she shifts position. You watch as she collapses onto the settee with a soft groan, heels kicked off haphazardly. Her hands move to her middle, gently massaging it as she reaches for a periodical, attempting to read before dropping it after just two pages. Eventually, she rises with considerable effort, steadying herself on the arm of the settee before climbing the stairs to her bedroom. The movement causes her freed breasts to sway slightly with the motion. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor stumbles into her flat, her movements sluggish and labored. She barely manages to close the door before leaning against the wall for support, one hand fumbling with her waistcoat buttons. By the time she reaches the settee, half her garments lie scattered in her wake. Her corset laces have been hastily loosened, allowing her severely distended stomach to push forward. The pale, taut dome of her belly rises prominently from her frame, angry red marks from her clothing crisscrossing her skin. Her chemise stretches across her chest, the fabric strained by the day's swelling - her rear sinks deep into the cushions as she collapses. You watch as she sinks into the cushions with a pained moan, a soft *burp* escaping her lips as her hands cradle her overfilled middle as she lies back, breathing shallow and quick. Sleep claims her where she falls, her body too full to make the journey upstairs. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor enters her flat with a soft sigh, closing the door behind her. Her fingers immediately loosen her cravat as she crosses to the sitting room, a slight frown creasing her brow. She methodically removes her outer garments, laying each piece over the settee's arm. When she finally frees herself of her corset, her softened middle expands outward, showing the subtle weight she's starting to accumulate. Though not dramatic, the curator’s once-flat stomach now curves gently, matching the new fullness in her cheeks. She rubs absently at the faint red indentations left by her clothing, wincing as her stomach growls audibly. She retrieves a letter from the mantelpiece, scanning its contents with a critical eye before setting it aside with a huff. With a weary sigh, you watch Eleanor as climbs up the stairs to her bedroom, her stomach loudly protesting from the lack of food. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor enters her flat with measured steps, pausing to adjust her waistcoat where it pulls slightly across her newly softened middle. She moves to the sitting room, untying her cravat with practiced fingers. As her garments come off one by one, the changes in her figure become evident - the subtle roundness of her belly, the slight additional padding at her hips, the gentle fullness of her cheeks… the way her chemise pulls tighter across her chest, as her breasts also seem to have gained a touch more volume. She stretches, evidently comfortable with the day’s modest meals. Taking a small journal from the side table, she makes a series of few quick notes before setting it aside. With a contented hum, you watch as she gathers her discarded clothing and heads upstairs, her hips swaying gently with each step. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor enters her flat with a weary expression, immediately working at the buttons of her waistcoat. Her fingers fumble slightly as she struggles with the tightened fabric. In the sitting room, she removes her garments piece by piece, each removal bringing clear relief. When her slightly bent corset finally comes off, her stomach pushes forward prominently, the day's meals distending an already soft middle. The new padding around her hips and thighs is more noticeable in this stuffed state, as her chemise clings to her. She sinks into the settee, her hand idly circling her taut middle as she breathes deeply. After a few minutes of rest, she rises with a slight grunt, gathering only the essential garments before making her way upstairs, one hand steadying herself against the wall. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor practically stumbles into her flat, her breathing labored. She leans heavily against the wall, fumbling with the buttons of her waistcoat which strain noticeably across her middle. Garments are cast aside with little care as she reaches for the sitting room, her focus entirely on relieving pressure. When her corset finally comes free, her overfilled stomach surges forward, round and taut beneath her thin chemise. Her face, slightly fuller now, is flushed with discomfort. She collapses onto the settee with a groan (or was that a moan?), both hands cradling her distended middle. You watch as she curls onto her side, her breathing gradually steadying as sleep claims her right there on the couch. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor enters her flat with careful steps. Her waistcoat already hangs open, the buttons already having been undone earlier in the day. In the sitting room, she removes her outer garments with practiced efficiency. When her corset comes loose, her plumped belly pushes forward eagerly, its roundness now a permanent fixture. Her breasts, noticeably fuller, settle heavily against her torso. The added weight in her thighs makes her movements deliberate as she adjusts her chemise, which pulls tight across her widened hips. Despite all of this added fat, her stomach rumbles insistently. You watch her tidy a stack of books on the side table, reorganizing them, before gathering her things and climbing the stairs to her bedroom, her hand occasionally pressing against her empty stomach. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor enters her flat and immediately unfastens her waistcoat, which now refuses to button properly across her plumped middle. Her movements, though slowed by her expanded figure, remain purposeful. In the sitting room, she removes her outer garments. Her corset - which you notice is now sporting extended laces - releases her substantial belly, which now protrudes roundly even when not full. Likewise, her breasts spill more generously from her chemise, which strains across her widened back. The soft padding of her thighs causes them to press together as she moves, her hips now wide enough to brush against narrow doorways. You watch as she ascends the stairs to her bedroom with careful steps, her rounded backside swaying noticeably with each movement. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor pushes open her door with a slight grunt, her breathing already laboured from the climb to her flat. Her waistcoat hangs open, abandoned to her swollen gut about an hour or so ago. In the sitting room, you watch as she swiftly removes her outer garments. Her skirt's waistband has left angry marks on her softened middle, and when her corset finally comes free, her stuffed belly surges forward dramatically. Her substantial breasts now seem to rest atop this distended stomach as she sinks onto the settee. She reaches for a book, but her focus wavers, one hand continuously returning to massage her middle. After several minutes of discomfort, she forces herself upstairs, each step a deliberate effort as her fuller thighs work against her. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor practically falls through her doorway, one hand pressed firmly against her painfully distended stomach. Her face is flushed with the exertion and discomfort, her breathing already laboured from the small climb to her flat. She abandons her garments as she moves, creating a trail toward the sitting room. By the time she reaches the settee, she's down to her chemise, which rides up over the dramatic dome of her belly regardless. You inspect her now plump body - soft arms, widened hips, substantial breasts… The tightness in her middle forces her breathing to be shallow and quick, interrupted by a stifled *burp* that makes her wince. She collapses onto the settee with a moan that's part pain, part relief, her fingers splayed across her taut, overextended stomach. Sleep comes quickly, her body too overwhelmed to even consider climbing up to her bedroom. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor maneuvers through her doorway with the careful movements of someone still adjusting to a substantially changed body. Her waistcoat has already been removed and currently under her soaked armpit, and her blouse strains across her belly. In the sitting room, you can immediately tell that removing her outer garments requires effort. When finally free of her… *revised* corset, her large belly hangs heavily, its considerable weight supported by one arm as she opts to also pull off her chemise. The fat that has accumulated across her back creates rolls that match those at her sides - her arms press against the latter, while her thighs rub together with each step. Despite her current size, perhaps exactly because of it, her stomach still growls. You watch her examine a letter on the kitchen table, holding it at arm's length to read, before arranging her hairpins on a small dish. With measured steps, she navigates to the stairs, ascending with one hand firmly on the banister. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor enters her flat with a slightly waddling gait. Her blouse has come untucked from her skirt, unable to contain her her substantial middle anymore. Inside of the sitting room, her skirt falls away to reveal a set of thighs rubbing together from high up. Her… *revised* corset, when finally removed, allows her large belly to fall forward, hanging heavily over where her skirt would sit. Her large, currently bare breasts rest atop her middle, while her plump arms press against the sides of her torso when at rest. Her double chin becomes more pronounced as she looks down to adjust her chemise off of her entirely - it barely contains her figure anyway. She takes a moment to organize a stack of papers, her movements surprisingly delicate despite… well, the rest of her, really. With deliberate steps, she makes her way to the stairs, tackling them one at a time with a hand firmly on the railing. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor enters her flat with a slightly waddling gait. Her blouse has come untucked from her skirt, unable to contain her substantial middle anymore - her breathing is labored already, her round face flushed with exertion. In the sitting room, she collapses immediately onto the settee, which creaks in protest. Only after catching her breath does she begin removing layers, each movement hindered by her stuffed state. Her clothing, though it had been modified, has still left deep imprints in her flesh, and when her corset comes free, her already-large belly surges forward, distended dramatically by the day's indulgences. Her thighs spread wide across the cushions. Her feet, a bit swollen from supporting her weight all day, receive immediate attention as she removes her shoes with a groan of relief. After several minutes of recovery, you watch her *heave* herself upright, the substantial sway of her pale belly and breasts accompanying each movement as she slowly, carefully, makes her way upstairs. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor barely manages to close her door, leaning heavily against it as she fights to catch her breath. Her garments are abandoned where they fall as she makes a path to the sitting room. By the time she reaches the settee, which groans under her substantial weight, the curator has only managed to loosen her outer layers. Swiftly, she works at her corset laces, each small release bringing a measure of relief, if only momentary. When finally free, her large belly protrudes far, tight as a drum despite the considerable fat padding it. Her entire body - from her round face with its double chin, to her heavy arms, to her thick thighs - seems to emphasize her overstuffed condition. She doesn't even attempt to reach her bedroom, instead collapsing back on the settee, her laboured breathing gradually steadying as she falls asleep, exhausted. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; if DayFullnessState == 'HUNGRY'] Eleanor navigates at a slight angle through the doorways of her flat. Her clothing, though adjusted earlier in the day, still strains against her massive figure. The sitting room becomes an immediate rest stop, her breathing heavy from the short walk. Removing her outer garments requires strategic pauses, each movement accommodating flesh that shifts and settles with its own momentum. When her enormous belly is finally freed from fabric constraints, it hangs pendulously, resting heavily on a set of thighs that spread wide even when standing. Her chubby arms rest on rolls of fat at her sides, and her double chin becomes more pronounced as she looks down at her chest, which rests atop the shelf of her belly. Despite - no, *exactly* because of her size, her stomach growls audibly. After catching her breath, she heads for her kitchenette, readily preparing herself some tea and biscuits to tide her over until breakfast tomorrow. She then begins the arduous journey upstairs, each step requiring both hands on the banister, her enormous body moving carefully. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; if DayFullnessState == 'SATISFIED'] Eleanor navigates at a slight angle through the doorways of her flat. Her clothing, though adjusted earlier in the day, still strains against her massive figure. The settee becomes her immediate destination, creaking ominously as she lowers her enormous weight onto it. Removing her garments is a chore, each layer revealing more and more of her transformed body. Her massive belly, even when not particularly full, hangs forward over her lap, dimpled with the red marks of her clothes… no, those are stretch marks. Angry, reddened streaks. Her breasts rest upon this shelf, themselves overshadowed by her belly, but clearly large enough to strain the fabric of her chemise. Her tree-trunk thighs spread wide across the cushions, and a double chin appears as she looks down to adjust her chemise. After a period of rest, you watch her reach for a nearby journal, recording something with her usual, delicate handwriting. The journey upstairs, when she finally gains enough energy to even attempt it, is a slow process - each step carefully tested before her full weight is committed to it. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; if DayFullnessState == 'STUFFED'] Eleanor barely fits through the doorway of her sitting room despite turning sideways. Her breathing is laboured from even this minimal exertion, her double chin and round cheeks flushed. The sitting room's settee receives her massive rear with an ominous creak - the furniture is visibly straining. Removing her garments becomes an extended process, interrupted by Eleanor having to either to shift her tremendous weight or to catch her breath. When her enormous belly is finally freed, it surges forward dramatically, its already massive size further distended by the day's meals. It rests heavily on her tremendous thighs, which spread wide. Her arms slump against the rolls at her sides, while her breasts, released from the chemise, settle around the upper slope of her belly, her nipples pointed to opposite sides. After an extended recovery period, she makes a first, failed attempt to stand. The second attempt succeeds, and while she’s not looking particularly pleased about this, she begins the arduous journey upstairs, each step a major effort and punctuated by the occasional soft *burp*. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; if DayFullnessState == 'BURSTING'] Eleanor's enormous body practically becomes wedged in her own doorway despite her sideways approach, her massively distended stomach pushing her well beyond even her already obese silhouette. Her breathing comes in shallow pants, her round face deeply flushed and perspired. You watch as she focuses solely on reaching the sitting room before collapsing. The settee shudders alarmingly as her huge rear descends on it, her massive body spreading across most of its surface. She doesn’t bother to remove her clothes: with shaking hands, she only works at loosening any remaining constrictive elements. When her enormous belly is finally freed, it projects outward absurdly far; spherical and tight as a drum despite the substantial fat padding every inch of her frame. A deep *belch* escapes her, bringing momentary relief, but not nearly enough - her massive thighs, arms, breasts, all seem secondary to the painful, but seemingly pleasurable distension of her middle. She doesn't even contemplate the stairs, instead shifting to lie back as much as the furniture allows, her laboured and moaned breathing gradually steadying as she swiftly falls asleep, utterly exhausted. [continue]

[if passage.name == 'Slot Selection'] [[➼Morning->Work Activity Selection]] [if SlotOneEvent == 'CATALOGUING'] *"Must sort through the backlog of uncatalogued artifacts today. Pottery fragments, coins... the usual mixed acquisitions."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'EXHIBITION'] *"Setting up the Roman exhibition. Heaven help me."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'EXHIBITION_EGYPT'] *"Richard needs help arranging the Egyptian wing. His collection might have parallels to my findings..."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'RESEARCH'] *"Finally, a morning devoted to my Brittany findings! No interruptions, just me and these fascinating symbols."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'EXPERT'] *"Assist Dr. Hughes with decoding inscriptions. He seems quite interested in my findings."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'TOUR'] *"The American industrialist arrives today. He collects 'exotic trinkets' - and has deep pockets."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'LECTURE'] *"Present findings to the Antiquarian Society. Nerve-wracking, but their patronage could change everything."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW'] *"Ms. Whitlock requested help cataloging recent acquisitions. She's been oddly interested in my research lately."* [if SlotOneEvent == 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH'] *"Violet's knowledge of obscure texts is remarkable. Something about her theories seems... personal."* [if MikaCollectionRevealed == true; if SlotOneEvent == 'VIOLET_CRATE'] *"Violet requested access to Mika's collection. Perhaps I'll see what's in that crate everyone's whispering about."* [if DateProposed == true; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; if SlotOneEvent == 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION'] *"Richard invited me to examine some countryside ruins. 'Just a day trip,' he insists, though he's packed quite the picnic..."* [note] Remember to add logic for the weekend trip potentially taking the whole day. [continue]

You think through all of the *morning* options, surprised at your immediate understanding of Eleanor's duties. Perhaps you've finally achieved complete resonance with her... or perhaps it's the stray ink marks on the previous and following pages, and you're just making some educated guesses. You reckon it's probably more of the latter. [if CataloguingTimes <=2] - [[Museum Inventory - Cataloguing artifacts->Set Work Cataloguing]] [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] - [[♣Help with Egyptian Exhibition->Set Work Exhibition_Egypt]] [unless ResearchCompleted] - [[Personal Research->Set Work Research]] [unless ArchiveReviewAttended] - [[♠Archive Review with Violet->Set Work Archive_Review]] [if VioletArchiveSuccessful; unless PrivateResearchAttended] - [[♠Private Research with Violet->Set Work Private_Research]] [if MikaCollectionRevealed; unless VioletCrateAttended] - [[♠Check Mika's Collection with Violet->Set Work Violet_Crate]] [if DateProposed == true; if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'; unless WeekendExpeditionAttended] - [[♣Weekend Expedition with Richard->Set Work Weekend_Expedition]] [continue] [note] TO (MAYBE) DEVELOP AFTER FIRST RELEASE [unless PrivateTourAttended [[Private Tour - American Industrialist->Set Work Tour] [unless ExpertConsultationAttended [[Expert Consultation - Dr. Hughes->Set Work Expert [unless PrivateTourAttended [[Private Tour - American Industrialist->Set Work Tour] [unless SocietyLectureAttended - [[Society Lecture - Antiquarian Society->Set Work Lecture Have it so going twice to catalogue artifacts has the Director congratulate himself with Eleanor, and give her a pay increase Possible use of card symbols for the characters/routes? Eleanor: ♦ Mary: ♥ Violet: ♠ Richard: ♣ [continue]

DayFullnessState (DayCalories <= 3): 'HUNGRY' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 3 && DayCalories <= 6): 'SATISFIED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 6 && DayCalories <= 8): 'STUFFED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 8): 'BURSTING' GardenPartyHangover: false -- [note] We don't really need to track the days of the week here. I mean, we can have some events only for some days, but it's better to have most be available to the player whenever they want. We will however need a "end of the day" passage to reset the slots, and to go forward in the week. [continue] [unless SlotOneAttended] {embed passage: 'SlotOne Events'} [if SlotOneAttended; unless SlotTwoAttended; if SecondChDemo] {embed passage: 'SlotTwo Events (Demo End)'} [if SlotOneAttended; unless SlotTwoAttended; unless SecondChDemo] {embed passage: 'SlotTwo Events'} [if SlotOneAttended; if SlotTwoAttended; unless SlotThreeAttended] {embed passage: 'SlotThree Events'} [if SlotThreeAttended; if SlotTwoAttended; if SlotOneAttended] {embed passage: 'Day End Passage'} [note] This tracks Eleanor's fullness throughout a single day: - HUNGRY: 0-2 calories (hungry) - SATISFIED: 3-4 calories (comfortably fed, normal) - STUFFED: 6-8 calories (very full, uncomfortable) - BURSTING: 9+ calories (painfully overstuffed) GardenPartyHangover: By setting this false, the conditionals inside Eleanor descriptions in the office only happen the immediate morning, not any other consequent day. [continue]

[if AmphoraState == 'base'] The amphora dominates its glass case, a behemoth standing nearly three feet tall. Its curved belly bears remnants of black-figure decoration - a chain of robed figures bearing offerings. One handle shows an ancient repair, the lead staples oxidized green. Cracks spiderweb across the base, stabilized with discreet brass brackets. Inside the rim, a dark residue clings to the ceramic: most likely olive oil or wine long since evaporated. A typewritten card propped beside it reads: *"Attic workshop, c. 520 BCE? Surface wear inconsistent with funerary context. Possibly repurposed during Roman occupation."* [if AmphoraState == 'saved'] The amphora dominates its glass case, a behemoth standing nearly three feet tall. Its curved belly bears remnants of black-figure decoration - a chain of robed figures bearing offerings. Both handles are intact, the lead staples now absent. A new annotation card leans against its base: *"Note: HANDLE WITH CARE -> Contains beer -> source of which unlikely to be from the 520 BCE. Recovered in the French countryside, likely kept in use/repurposed till the current day."* [if AmphoraState == 'broken'] The amphora lies in pieces, shattered across the plinth and floor. Shards of terracotta are scattered around, some still bearing traces of black-figure decoration. The lead staples from the ancient repair can be seen among the debris. The typewritten card lies face down, partially obscured by a large fragment of the base. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering'] The amphora wobbles precariously in Eleanor’s grip, its weight shifting unsteadily. The black-figure decoration on its curved belly seems to ripple as it tilts, the chain of robed figures appearing almost animated. A faint sloshing sound emanates from within, suggesting the vessel is not, in fact, empty. The typewritten card has been knocked askew, its edge brushing against the plinth. [if AmphoraState == 'drunk'] The amphora sits lopsided on the plinth, its form now leaning heavily to one side. The black-figure decoration is partially obscured by a sticky residue that clings to the ceramic, trailing down from the rim. The typewritten card lies crumpled beside it, its edges damp and curling. A faint drip echoes as thin rivlet of liquid slowly seeps from the neck, pooling on the plinth below. [continue] {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless TriedVibratingTheAmphoraInThePresent; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Present Amphora Vibrated]] [continue] [if AmphoraState == 'base'; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Amphora Cutscene]] [continue]

A curious jumble of trinkets lies scattered here, carved from bone and ivory. The surfaces show chisel marks of varying depths - some grooves barely scratch the surface while others gouge deep enough to split the grain. Etchings meander across their faces in wavering lines that start bold, then fade to hesitant scratches - attempts at Egyptian hieroglyphs, perhaps? Several pieces bear filing marks along their edges, smooth in some areas, roughly gouged in others. The bone shows hairline fractures radiating outward from the carved areas. These artefact just look roughly made. {link to: 'Egypt artefacts', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Amulets Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue] [unless AmuletsPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Amulets Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The massive silver-framed mirror looms before you, nearly seven feet tall. Its frame is exquisitely crafted, with entwined serpents and vines in bloom with what appear to be... peaches? Apples? They might be too abstract to be a real life fruit - you just see a round shape with a mark in the middle of it. The glass itself seems to be made of silver - you can see it’s darkened with age around the edges. A jagged crack bisects the surface diagonally. [if MirrorPastVisited; if MirrorGuardScared; unless MirrorEventFixed] *As you study the crack, you notice it's subtly different than before - less severe, with fewer branching lines.* [continue] {link to: 'Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] TOO SHORT, SLIGHTLY REVISE [continue] [inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Ancient Mirror Occasion]] [continue]

A small brass bell sits at the counter's edge, its surface brand new. You can even see the faint outline of a polish on its base. When struck, it would likely produce a sharp, insistent chime, [unless ApothecaryBellRung; append] though you fail to see its point: the shop does not seem to have an entrance to the back. Supposedly, there wouldn’t be much of a need to call anyone from anywhere. [if ApothecaryBellRung; append] one clearly capable of being notice even from the basement of the shop. [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ApothecaryBellRung; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bell Vibration Cutscene]] [continue]

[if ApothecaryTurns == 4] The small brown bottle sits innocuously on the counter, its glass surface catching the dim light. The cork stopper is sealed with red wax, stamped with the apothecary's insignia. A neat label on its side reads: "MENTHA TINCTURE - THE FIRST CHOICE OF THE SAVANT FOR THE RELIEF OF HEADACHES" [if BottleLabelSwitchSeen] Near your hovering form, on the floor behind the counter where the shopgirl stood, is the original, discarded label. It reads: "MASS AUGMENTATION COMPOUND - FOR CONVALESCENTS AND THOSE LACKING IN CONSTITUTION" [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Several framed certificates hang on the wall behind the counter. The largest bears the seal of the Royal Pharmaceutical Society, while others display various credentials and recognitions. The most prominent, centered above the others, states that one "Gerald Galford" is certified to "Prepare and Dispense Medicinals of the Highest Standard." The date of issue suggests the elder Galford has practiced his craft for over… eight hundred years? That can’t be right. It's probably a typo. [if passage.visits == 2] *...but how would that slip by? These are some serious institutions, with very serious people to boot.* [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if ApothecaryTurns == 3] As the shopgirl runs her finger down the page, you glimpse Eleanor's name among dozens of others. Beside it, in precise handwriting, is the word "Headache" followed by two asterisks. Your gaze follows the girl's finger to an annotation at the bottom of the page that simply reads "Common Formulation - Ol' Mikey's orders." {embed passage: 'Ledger Checked set to true'} [else] The leather-bound ledger lies closed, its pages edged in gold leaf - very fancy. On its cover, a small piece of paper has been attached, reading "Gilford's Apothecary - Customer Registry" in elegant script. [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] have this item have an interaction when Aether is used, where the book does shake, but does not open (obviously). [continue]

The brass scale gleams in the corner, its two pans perfectly balanced. Small weights of varying sizes are arranged in a neat row beside it, each one marked with precise measurements. The shopkeeper would likely use this to measure out exact quantities of powders and compounds for their more complex remedies. It doesn't seem to have been used much, though. Either that, or it's brand new. {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ApothecaryScalePast; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Apothecary Scale Cutscene]] [continue]

The shelves lining the walls are crowded with bottles and jars of various sizes, their contents ranging from muddy powders to vibrant liquids. Labels identify each substance - some with proper Latin names, others with more colloquial designations. The higher shelves hold the more expensive or dangerous compounds, while everyday remedies occupy the middle rows. Interestingly enough, a lot of the space is currently occupied by small brown bottles of exact shape and form. {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

A modest collection of objects Eleanor has smuggled from the museum's storage. Most are fragments: a clay pot with geometric patterns, a small bronze pin missing its decorative head, a chunk of limestone bearing faint inscriptions... [if correctartefact == 1; append] Among the collection, you spot one of the artefacts you helped Eleanor bring from her flat. [if correctartefact == 2; append] All of the artefacts you helped Eleanor collect from her flat have been integrated into this arrangement. [if correctartefact == 3; append] All of the artefacts you helped Eleanor collect from her flat have been integrated into this arrangement. [if arrowheadstaken == true] The arrowheads rest in a small wooden tray, their points aligned in the same direction. [if clayvesseltaken == true; append] The small clay vessel sits upright, stabilized by a ring of cork. Its faint violet pigment appears more pronounced in this light, the scratched markings along its base visible from certain angles. [if SkullTaken == true; append] The reassembled skull gazes empty-eyed from atop a velvet cushion, its cracks and missing fragments now more evident under the office light. Eleanor has begun penciling notes directly onto the bone with the lightest of touches. [continue] [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'; if correctartefact == 3] A brief note from the Director, scrawled on institutional letterhead, lies atop the collection: *"Lovelace - I can see all artifacts have returned. About time! Board approves minor funding increase for expedition research. Do not make me chase you for museum property again. - Markus"* [continue] {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The bookshelves here are crammed with volumes, their dark wooden frames bowing slightly under their weight. Leather-bound tomes with faded titles sit alongside stacks of auction catalogues and handwritten field notes. A layer of dust clings to the upper shelves, undisturbed for some time - admittedly, it doesn't seem like Eleanor would be able to grab a book this far up without some kind of help. A few objects break the monotony: a small [[bronze figurine]] of a horse, its legs mid-gallop, rests between two books; a cracked [[clay tablet]] leans precariously against a ledger [if VioletInterest > 0] [append] , while a [[magnifying glass]] lies on a lower shelf [continue] [if ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] [append] . You also spot a small bronze [[scarab]] atop a pile of loose papers [unless ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0] [append] . [continue] [if TeaWithMaryAttended] A small glass [[bottle->perfume]] sits wedged between reference texts, its cork stopper slightly askew. [continue] [if TeaWithMaryAttended; if GardenPartyAttended] A delicate [[pearl hairpin]] rests against the spine of an archaeological journal, its surface catching the gaslight. [continue] [if DirectorFocused] Tucked behind a stack of catalogues, a small brass [[paperweight]] bears the museum's official seal. [continue] Among the lower shelves, Eleanor has arranged several [[artefacts]] she's brought from home. {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves dominate the wall behind the Director. Unlike the cluttered shelves inside Eleanor's flat and office, these are meticulously organized. Rows upon rows of pretty much identical leather-bound volumes stand at attention, their spines embossed with gold lettering - likely institutional records, annual reports, and perhaps proceedings of archaeological societies. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if DirectorKnockedOut == 0; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether]] [continue] [if DirectorKnockedOut == 1; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether 2]] [continue] [if DirectorKnockedOut == 2; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether 3]] [continue] [note] [if DirectorKnockedOut == 0; inventory for AetherAbility [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether] [continue [if DirectorKnockedOut == 1 {embed passage: 'Check for DirectorKnockedOut 1' [continue [if DirectorKnockedOut == 2 {embed passage: 'Check for DirectorKnockedOut 2' [continue

A small bronze horse frozen mid-gallop, its mane and tail rendered with surprising detail. One leg has been repaired, the solder work competent but visible. Its surface bears a patina that suggests regular handling. [if BronzeFigurinePastSeen] Looking closer, you now notice that the figurine is simply looking... *rough*. The casting shows uneven thickness in places: some areas thin enough to catch light, others thick enough to blur fine details. Tool marks remain visible along the edges where excess bronze was filed - well, more so scratched away. [continue] A tag tied to its hind leg reads: "Item 158, Celtic. Northern France or Southern Britain, 1st century BCE." {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [unless BronzeFigurinePastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Bronze Figurine Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The helmet rests at an angle on its velvet display. The rounded dome shows an impressively deep dent along the left temple [if BronzeHelmetPastFallen == false; append] - certainly the telltale sign of a deathly blow. [if BronzeHelmetPastFallen == true; append] . Ugh, what a shame... [continue] A horsehair crest, brittle and faded, still clings to the central ridge. Inside the brim, faint etchings are visible - perhaps a maker's mark. A small note near it speculates: *"Attic design, 5th c. BCE? Check records. Funerary context?"* {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless BronzeHelmetPastFallen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past bronze helmet cutscene 1]] [continue]

A life-sized bronze statue depicts a woman draped in classical robes, though the fabric does little to conceal a figure of surprising substance. Her features are serene, almost placid, but her form is generously rounded - full arms, a thick waist barely hinted at beneath the sculpted folds, and substantial hips curving outwards. One hand rests proudly on her ample stomach, the other holds a stylized cornucopia, though its contents are merely suggested by the casting. Grapes and apples, perhaps? The bronze bears a greenish patina, particularly deep in the recesses of the drapery. A small plaque at the base reads: ~"Ceres - Allegory of Abundance"~. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

The statuette stands at roughly four inches tall, its surface patinaed. The figure depicts a woman seated upon waves, her stylized curls cascading over bare shoulders. One hand rests on her rounded hip, the other extended as if offering something - whatever that was, it's lost to corrosion. Close inspection reveals faint scoring along its base - perhaps inventory numbers from a private collection. Tucked awkwardly behind its stand, partially obscured, you can just make out... [[a wheel->pastry cart Intro Meeting]]? {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The business card is cream-colored with embossed text, arranged in a neat fan. The top one belongs to a "Mr. Everett Blackwood, Continental Acquisitions," with an American address in Boston. The card's corner has been dog-eared. A handwritten note in Eleanor's script on the card's back reads: ~"Interested in 'unconventional' artifacts - mentioned 'handsome compensation' for the <del>pillaging</del> recovery of items related to 'ancient tribes.'"~ {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [unless BusinessCardPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Business Card Cutscene 1]] [continue]

You find yourself drawn to the leather ledger that's been posted on top of the wall, and now operates as a calendar. Its pages are open, and today's date - **{CurrentDay}** - is circled in red ink. {embed passage: 'Calendar Day Description'} [unless SecondChDemo] The ink laid upon it ripples as you near it, almost inviting your influence. With slight concentration, you should be able to [[modify Eleanor's schedule->Slot Selection]]... [if SecondChDemo] The ink laid upon it ripples as you near it, but feels resistant to change. With slight concentration, you feel as if you *should* be able to [[modify Eleanor's schedule->Slot Selection (Demo)]]... *perhaps that will come at a later time.* [continue] {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The alabaster jar gleams dully, its jackal-headed stopper gazing into the middle distance. A number of hieroglyphs encircle the vessel's shoulder, while a hairline crack appears on one side, meticulously repaired with nearly invisible adhesive. Looking inside, you can see some dried petals near its base - someone might've used it as a flower pot in more recent times. {link to: 'Egypt artefacts', label: 'Back'}

[if SweetsEaten == 0] The refreshment cart sits by the entrance, its polished silver tray packed with an assortment of pastries. Flaky croissants, glazed buns filled with cream, and a number of small fruit tarts. A porcelain teapot sits beside a set of delicate cups, its spout pointed towards the sarcophagi. The cart bears the museum board's crest - clearly this is meant for donors and distinguished guests, not the staff. There's a small card noting "Compliments of Lord Brooke." [if SweetsEaten == 1] The refreshment cart sits slightly disheveled, with one conspicuous gap in the array of pastries. There are still a number of remaining treats - glazed buns, fruit tarts, and chocolate éclairs. A porcelain teapot sits beside a set of delicate cups, its spout pointed towards the sarcophagi. One cup now bears a faint lipstick smudge. The cart bears the museum board's crest - clearly this is meant for donors and distinguished guests, not the staff. There's a small card, knocked slightly askew, that reads "Compliments of Lord Brooke." [if SweetsEaten == 2] The refreshment cart looks lighter than before, with two vacant spaces among the diminishing assortment of pastries. The chocolate éclairs remain untouched, but the fruit tarts are dwindling in number. The teapot has been moved slightly, and now points towards the display cases. [if SweetsEaten == 3] The refreshment cart is looking much lighter, with half its treats now vanished. The remaining pastries sit in disarray, as if hastily rearranged to disguise how little of them remain. Several cups have also shifted around. A light dusting of powdered sugar has fallen onto the silver tray, and a few flaky crumbs trail across the floor in Eleanor's direction. [if SweetsEaten == 4] The refreshment cart stands decimated - a mess of crumbs and napkins. Only two sad-looking pastries remain - the least appealing of the lot, passed over despite Eleanor's appetite. The teapot has been almost entirely drained. [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You focus on the pair of caryatids flanking the eastern staircase entrance. Carved from pale marble, they stand tall, supporting the archway above. The figure on the left has a stern, almost disapproving expression etched onto her features. Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her gaze seems fixed on some distant point behind you. The drapery around her form hangs in severe, rigid folds, hiding most of her body’s detail. In stark contrast, the caryatid on the right seems delighted to see you. A full smile plays on her lips, her eager eyes seem to hold a gentle, knowing warmth - though thinner than the other, her marble robes appear softer around her form, flowing more naturally. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

Loose papers bear the same symbols you saw in Eleanor's flat: the curious blob-like shapes with V markings at their centers, and the pattern of two smaller circles with a larger marked one beneath. Among these familiar markings, Eleanor has isolated two additional glyphs for study. One appears to be an elongated oval bisected by a curved line, with small notches along its edge. The other resembles concentric circles with a circle of outward pointing arrows. [if ResearchProgress == 0] Her tentative pencil marks cluster around the margins: ~"Fertility symbols?"~ Each phrase ends with a question mark, the handwriting uncertain. [if ResearchProgress == 1; unless PrivateResearchAttended] Fresh ink overlays the earlier notes: ~"Consumption patterns... stylistic degeneration..."~ The writing grows smaller, more cramped. [if ResearchProgress >= 2; unless PrivateResearchAttended] Bold strokes cross out previous annotations, replaced by: ~"Deliberate gorging... daemons of hunger?"~ The final question mark is pressed deep enough to indent the paper. [continue] [if ResearchProgress >= 1; if PrivateResearchAttended] A separate note appears in darker ink: ~"V.W. suggests broader cult network..."~ The letters trail off, as though Eleanor hesitated before completing the thought. [continue] {link to: 'excavation chart', label: 'Back'}

A fragment of fired clay, etched with peculiar angular markings that might be script or merely decorative. One corner has been broken and reattached with a substance that doesn't quite match the tablet's color. The tablet leans precariously against a ledger, threatening to topple with the slightest vibration. {link to: 'bookshelves', label: 'Back'}

The Director's desk is a thick piece of furniture, its mahogany surface polished to a mirror shine. It's almost bare, with just a pristine blotter, a silver inkwell set, a thick, leather-bound ledger and a small brass paperweight being the only items permitted on its surface. Aside from the lunch tray, of course. There isn't a single stray paper in sight. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless DeskPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Desk Cutscene 1]] [continue] [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Desk Director Aether]] [continue]

The director stands tall with his back straight, one hand perpetually fidgeting with his pocket watch chain. You guess him to be half age, and from your vantage point you can see he’s balding, though compensating with an impressive mustache. Waxed, too. His black frock coat is superb though slightly too tight across the shoulders. His dark eyes flick impatiently between the artifacts and his staff, as if in a hurry and wanting to be done with this meeting as much as the others in the hall. {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Director persuasion menu]] [continue]

The display cases are arranged in a horseshoe pattern. Most have been assembled but are clearly still waiting for their glass panes to arrive, leaving the artifacts vulnerable to the museum's dust. It's a good thing most of the cases are still empty, then. The cases vary in height and width - clearly repurposed from other exhibitions. A few bear scratches where old plaques have been removed, and one still displays a faded outline of "~MESOPOTAMIAN TREASURES~" beneath a hasty coat of black paint. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The heavy oak door seems to be the only way in or out of this storage space. Its wood is dark and solid, fitted with a sturdy-looking brass handle and lock mechanism. A small, square window set high in the door is reinforced with thick wire mesh, offering only a limited view of the corridor on the other side. There are som scratches around the handle. {link to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The large framed chart dominates the wall, its surface a collection of hand-drawn maps and annotated diagrams pinned at odd angles. Red ink traces a winding path along the Brittany coast, dotted with circled numbers. Eleanor's handwriting is all over the place, cramped but legible. ~"Site 7: pottery shards, uncommon for the area."~ ~"Site 12: metallic fragments. Possible ritual context? A pagan cult?"~ ~"Site 19: carved stone fragments, unknown script."~ Near the latter, a number of [[sketches->chart sketches]] have been drawn. From there, the path heads further inland, connecting with a circled area simply labeled ~"Site 1"~. From Eleanor's notes, it appears to be a partially explored cave network - presumably the only plausible point of origin for all of these artefacts. [if ExpeditionFunds <= 0] A budget estimate scrawled in the bottom corner shows crossed-out figures: ~"£127... £156... £203..."~ [if ExpeditionFunds >= 1; unless ExpeditionFunds >= 2; if correctartefact == 3] Fresh ink in the margin reads: ~"Director's grudging contribution for artifact return - hurray! Still a lot to go, though..."~ [if ExpeditionFunds >= 1; unless ExpeditionFunds >= 2; unless correctartefact == 3] Fresh ink in the margin reads: ~"Partial funding secured... reduced scope?"~ [if ExpeditionFunds == 2; if correctartefact == 3] A new notation appears near the coast: ~"Additional sponsors identified. Plus unexpected boost from Director (finally acknowledged proper procedure!). Still short, but real progress..."~ [if ExpeditionFunds >= 3; unless ExpeditionFunds >= 4] A new notation appears near the coast: ~"Additional sponsors identified. Still not enough, but I'm getting there."~ [if ExpeditionFunds >= 5] Bold lettering fills an empty corner: ~"Enough funding obtained! The expedition should be viable!"~ [continue] {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The invitation lies open on the floor, its cream-colored paper embossed with gold lettering that catches the gaslight. The ornate script flows across the page in an elegant hand: <blockquote> *The Bristol Archaeological Society* *cordially requests the honour of your presence* *at the Annual Society Ball* *Saturday Evening, the 15th of November, 1888* *Eight o'clock in the evening* *The Grand Assembly Rooms* *King Street, Bristol* *Evening dress required* *Dancing & Refreshments* At the bottom, in a more personal script, a note has been added in red ink: *"Darling Eleanor - Do say you'll come! I've secured us both invitations. It will be absolutely divine. - M.C."* </blockquote> The paper still carries the faint scent of Mary's lavender perfume, and you notice a small smudge of what might be cake crumbs near one corner. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

A brass-rimmed magnifying glass with a bone handle worn smooth from use. [if MagnifyingGlassCracked; append] A hairline crack now divides the lens, running from the center outwards. [unless MagnifyingGlassCracked; append] Its lens is remarkably clear, despite the general disarray surrounding it. [continue] [append] Eleanor has fashioned a small stand for it using a carved wooden block and a bent nail - practical, though it doesn't fit the original craftmanship in the slightest. [if MagnifyingGlassScorched; if EyeMarkCreated] Beneath it, on the desk surface, is a black scorch mark shaped uncannily like an eye. [if MagnifyingGlassScorched; unless EyeMarkCreated] Beneath it, on the desk surface, is a tiny black scorch mark. [continue] {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [if VioletInterest > 1; unless VioletLookingGlassPersuasion; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[You feel a presence...?->Magnifying Glass Animus Attempt Violet]] [continue] [unless MagnifyingGlassCracked; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a resonating hum...->Magnifying Glass Aether Router]] [continue]

A bunch of rolled maps overflow from a wooden stand, their edges curling and yellowed. Most appear to be continental Europe, with certain regions circled in red ink. Their corners bear the watermark of the British Geographical Society. They are in too much of a disarray to make sense of them, but several up top have been annotated with pencil marks. {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

A number of framed documents hang on the walls. One large map seems to show the extent of a very large nation state, its territories shaded in pink… ah, well, it’s not just any empire: near the bottom the lettering ~British Empire~ has been written out. Another seems to be an architectural plan of the museum itself. Several ornate charters with wax seals proclaim the museum's founding and its royal patronage to the side of it. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless MapPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Maps Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The busts sit in a neat row atop their polished wooden plinths, their surfaces catching the low lamplight. Though sculpted to resemble aged marble... they simply aren't. Plaster, perhaps, or a composite meant to deceive the casual observer. Each face is impassive, and you can't say you recognize any of them. The curls of their hair are crisp, their noses unbroken, their eyes blank and depthless. A small brass plaque at the base of the display reads: *"Reproductions - Original Hellenistic and Imperial Roman busts, Collection of the British Museum, c. 2nd century BCE - 3rd century CE."* A faint layer of dust clings to the plinth, disturbed only where someone has brushed against the surface - at least one visitor has had a closer look. {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if AmphoraState == 'base'; unless MarbleBustsFallen; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Busts Falling Down With base Amphora]] [continue] [if AmphoraState == 'saved'; unless MarbleBustsFallen; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Busts Falling Down With full Amphora]] [continue]

The mosaic sprawls across the wall, its once-vivid tiles now dulled by age. You can discern... some kind of procession: a satyr's here, the curve of a wine cup there... Whole sections have crumbled away, leaving ghostly outlines where a fair amount of figures were dancing. A conservator's ladder leans against the wall, its top rung draped with a dust cloth. Beneath it, a tray of replacement tiles, their modern glaze bright against the ancient work. A handwritten note pinned to the wall reads: *"DO NOT TOUCH - awaiting approval for restoration."* {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'}

A neat stack of folded promotional flyers sits beside the pens, their cream-colored paper still crisp from recent printing. The topmost bears the museum's letterhead in bold serif type: "Bristol Institute of Archaeology and Antiquities - Special Exhibitions & Public Lectures." Beneath the heading, you can make out announcements for upcoming events - a lecture series on "Ancient Mediterranean Trade Routes" and what appears to be a special exhibition opening. Eleanor's handwriting in pencil annotates the margins of several copies, evidently marking which departments should receive them. A faint ink smudge near one corner suggests she's been handling them while working with her correspondence. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

"20 pounds? In just a week?" The athlete sounds doubtful. The aphotecary shrugs his shoulders. "It does depend on the amount consumed, but yes, pretty much that. Medicine is not an exact science! And many of our university rowers swear by it." The apothecary winks. "Just don't mention where you acquired it… I don’t have many in stock, you see. Wouldn’t want to have to price it any higher than it is now. I’m sure you understand!" The scene dissolves as he laughs, leaving you once more in the present. {link to: 'apothecary scale', label: 'Back'}

An assortment of writing implements stands in a chipped ceramic mug. Fountain pens with variously worn nibs, graphite pencils sharpened to different lengths, and a smattering of dip pens with crusted ink along their barrels. The mug itself bears a faded institutional crest. It's likely been "borrowed" from someone's tearoom, same as most of the objects in this office, really. {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

PocketWatchOfficeHasBeenSeen: true -- It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, dangles from the top of it. The latch clicks softly as you will it open without its owner noticing, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. The rhythmic ticking grows [[louder->Intro Meeting Cutscene]] as you draw nearer - your presence is making the hands themselves tremble. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a resonating hum...->Intro Meeting Cutscene]] [continue]

The reception desk is a solid piece of dark mahogany, its surface polished to a high gloss though showing faint scratches near the edges from years of use. An inkwell set sits precisely positioned beside the visitors' ledger. There's a noticeable lack of clutter - no stray papers, no personal effects. A small brass plaque screwed into the front reads "Information". {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

Arranged on the oak table behind a velvet rope is a small collection of plaster replicas, clearly intended for visitors to view without risking damage to genuine pieces. You catch a miniature bust of Nefertiti, painted somewhat crudely. Beside it sits a Roman oil lamp replica, and a small, brightly painted drinking cup that seems more suited to a gift shop than an archaeological display. A small information card nearby simply reads: "~Examples from Our Collections~". {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

[unless RichardTrapped] Three sarcophagi stand against the far wall - from the looks of it, they seem to have been arranged chronologically, from left to right. The leftmost is made of plain limestone with simple painted features, while the center one bears more elaborate decoration, its wooden surface covered with protective symbols and offering prayers. The rightmost is less ornate and clearly from a later period. Maybe Eleanor's general expertise is rubbing onto you, but you can certainly spot some Greek influence in its styling. Their painted faces stare upward with hollow eyes, all fixed on some distant point beyond the ceiling. [if passage.visits == 2; unless RichardTrapped] *Perhaps you are not so different from them. You prefer not to think about it too hard.* [continue] [if RichardTrapped] Three sarcophagi stand against the far wall - from the looks of it, they seem to have been arranged chronologically, from left to right. The leftmost is made of plain limestone with simple painted features, while the center one bears more elaborate decoration, its wooden surface covered with protective symbols and offering prayers. The rightmost is less ornate and clearly from a later period. Eleanor's general expertise is certainly rubbing onto you - you can certainly spot some Greek influence in its styling. You know the middle sarcophagus's lid sits slightly askew, its once-perfect seal compromised by recent movement. A faint scratching sound emanates from inside, growing occasionally more frantic. [continue] {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless RichardTrapped; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Sarcophagus Aether Cutscene]] [continue]

A small Egyptian scarab carved from blue-green faience. Floating under it you can spot that its underside bears hieroglyphs that have partially worn away. It sits atop a stack of papers, apparently serving more as a paperweight than an artefact. A notch on one edge suggests it was once part of a larger piece. A necklace, perhaps. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Scarab Cutscene]] [continue]

Resting quietly is an ornate, though notably battered, bronze cylinder embossed with swirling patterns reminiscent of Nile reeds. Its surface hints at hidden contents, though age and use have sealed it tight - while you can certainly hover your head through it, well... it's pitch dark inside. You obviously can't see a thing. Either that, or it's empty. That's also a possibility. {link to: 'Egypt artefacts', label: 'Back'}

[if ApothecaryTurns == 3] The shopgirl stands behind the counter, her copper-red hair pulled back severely from her face. Her movements are efficient as she turns to the shelves, selecting a bottle. A starched white apron covers her plain dress. As she reaches for a higher shelf, her dress pulls taut across her generous bottom, the fabric straining noticeably at the seams. She stands on tiptoes, her wide hips shifting to maintain balance, causing the apron strings to dig into the soft flesh at her waist. You watch as she examines the bottle, then glances furtively over her shoulder. With swift, practiced motions, she peels off the original label and replaces it with one from her apron pocket. The discarded label flutters to the floor behind the counter. {embed passage: 'BottleLabelSwitchSeen set to true'} [unless ApothecaryTurns == 3] The shopgirl stands behind the counter, her copper-red hair pulled back severely from her face. Her movements are careful and precise as she arranges vials - a bit slow, but she clearly doesn't want to let anything fall to the floor. A starched white apron covers her plain dress, though it does little to conceal the curves beneath - particularly at her hips and chest. As she talks to Eleanor, she occasionally glances toward the door with a mixture of boredom and impatience - clearly accustomed to manning the shop alone but not particularly enthusiastic about it. [continue] {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->shopgirl persuasion menu]] [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the shopgirl's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, a rapid stream of calculations and mild anxiety. Some threads of dialogue seem louder than others. Perhaps you can add your voice to them… ➼[[**GREED**->Greed Shopgirl]] *Father charges triple for this stuff... I could take a cut for myself...* ➼[[**NERVOUSNESS**->Nervousness Shopgirl]] *What if she notices?* ➼[[**CURIOSITY**->Curiosity Shopgirl]] *She doesn't look like she needs this formula... I wonder why father prescribes it so much.* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor reaches out instinctively and gives the tarnished silver call bell a firm tap with her gloved knuckle. A surprisingly clear, sharp *ding* echoes through the high-ceilinged entrance hall. She waits expectantly for a beat, glancing around. The hall remains empty save for herself - no one seems to be coming to greet her. With a slight frown and a dismissive shake of her head, perhaps finding her own action pointless, she turns away from the desk and continues deeper into the atrium. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

A polished silver tray sits near the Director's elbow, presenting a sparse but formal lunch. A matching silver cloche covers a plate, positioned beside a single crystal glass filled with water and a precisely folded linen napkin. It speaks of efficiency, really. [unless DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony] The cloche has been lifted, revealing two precisely cut sandwiches and a small, plain slice of Madeira cake - a very dry looking one. Interestingly enough, the director doesn't seem to be very interested in any of them. [if DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony] The cloche rests askew on the tray, revealing an empty plate save for a few scattered crumbs. Both of the small sandwiches and the slice of cake are now absent. The Director's napkin lies slightly crumpled near the plate, showing faint signs of use. [continue] {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony: true

A neat stack of Eleanor's latest sketches, their edges aligned with characteristic precision. The topmost sheet displays her careful pencil work - detailed renderings of the Brittany symbols that have captured her attention. The familiar V-marked formations dominate the page, rendered with increasing sophistication from her earlier attempts. Some appear as rounded, blob-like shapes with tiny marks etched into their centers - V's, or perhaps Y's, the exact form still ambiguous in her interpretation. Others show the triple-circle variation: two smaller circles positioned above a larger one. Beneath these primary studies, you glimpse comparative sketches - Celtic spiral patterns from established texts, grain motifs from Egyptian reliefs, even rough approximations of fertility goddess iconography. Red ink annotations connect disparate elements with confident strokes, suggesting Eleanor's growing certainty about some bigger, underlying pattern. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The small figurine stands about six inches tall, crafted from glazed faience that has retained much of its original blue-green color. It depicts Taweret, the hippo-headed goddess of childbirth - that's what the handwritten tag at her feet notes. Small chips mark her smug, almost satisfied hippopotamus snout. Her paws rest protectively under her naked chest, and so on her large, protruding and heavily pregnant belly. {link to: 'Egypt artefacts', label: 'Back'} [inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Statuette Cutscene]] [continue]

The storage ledger lies open on the small desk, its leather cover worn smooth at the corners. Pages are filled with a very neat script detailing artifact acquisitions and locations. You glimpse entries like: ~"Item #482b - Roman Amphora fragment, Section C, Shelf 12"~, ~"Item #711 - Egyptian Funerary Mask (minor damage), Section A, Crate 4"~, and ~"Item #903 - Whitlock Mirror, Silver, Section D, Bay 2 (Covered)"~. The last entry has a recent date written beside it, followed by a hasty question mark. {link to: 'Ancient Mirror Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The telegraph notice is printed on cheap yellow paper, its edges slightly curled. The message reads: <blockquote>TO: LOVELACE, ELEANOR - BRISTOL INSTITUTE FROM: DR. J. HUGHES - SORBONNE RE: CONSULTATION ON BRETON ARTIFACTS ARRIVING FRIDAY STOP AVAILABLE TO EXAMINE SYMBOLS STOP REQUIRE PRIVATE MEETING STOP RESPOND IF INCONVENIENT STOP</blockquote> {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

A leather-bound visitor logbook lies open, its pages filled with entries from colleagues and visitors to Eleanor's office throughout the week. Most entries are routine departmental business, but several do catch your attention. "*Mr. J. Phillips - Antiquities Dept. - 9:30 AM - Ceramic authentication*" "*Miss S. Morton - Administrative - 11:15 AM - Budget correspondence*" [if ArchiveReviewAttended] "*Miss V. Whitlock - Collections - 8:30 AM - Archive materials consultation*" [continue] "*Mr. T. Davidson - Maintenance - 12:20 AM - Gas lamp inspection*" [if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue] [if TranslationSessionAttended] "*Mr. R. Harding - Egyptology - 9:45 AM - Translation assistance*" [continue] "*Mrs. E. Hartwell - Board Liaison - 10:45 AM - Committee updates*" [if PrivateResearchAttended] "*Miss V. Whitlock - Collections - 7:20 PM - Private research session*" [continue] "*Mr. C. Webb - Photography Dept. - 1:10 PM - Exhibition documentation*" [if LunchWithDirector] A note in different handwriting: "*Director requests Miss Lovelace for a 12:30 PM lunch meeting*" [continue] The remaining entries blur together - routine administrative visits, delivery confirmations, and interdepartmental consultations that mark the daily rhythm of museum business. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

The heavy ledger lies open on the reception desk, its pages surely filled with dated entries in various hands. Not today's page though, not yet. Dated **MONDAY**, it shows only one entry: "*Mr. R. Trevelyan - Director - 9:05 AM*". The facing page, showing **SUNDAY**, is sparse as the other, with only a small amount of entries - the latest being from: "*Mr. R. Harding - Egyptology Dept. - 9:10 AM (Weekend Access)*" "*Miss V. Whitlock - Collections - 10:46 PM (Weekend Access)*" {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'}

The simple wooden bench sits beneath the window, currently unoccupied. Its seat is worn smooth from years of anxious waiting. A small cushion, frayed at the edges, offers minimal comfort to those waiting for either their tonics or prescriptions. That’s what you’re guessing is the case, anyway: it’s not like you can test that yourself. {link to: 'Apothecary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ApothecaryPregnantPast; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Apothecary Bench Cutscene]] [continue]

A narrow window interrupts the wall of bookshelves, its glass grimy with years of accumulated soot and dust. Eleanor has clearly attempted to clean it - streaked circles mark where she's rubbed at decades of smoke and grime, creating a somewhat clearer viewing port at eye level. [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] Through the cleared section, figures move briskly along the pavement below. Men in dark coats clutch leather satchels, their stride purposeful and hurried. *A woman in a severe black dress moves with mechanical precision toward the museum's side entrance, clipboard pressed against her chest.* A vendor wheels a cart of newspapers to the corner, his voice already calling headlines to the passing crowd. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] A succession of laden wagons rumbles past, their wheels grinding against the cobblestones. Women emerge from doorways carrying wicker baskets, moving toward what you assume must be the market district. *A figure in a burgundy walking dress pauses at the milliner's window, her gloved hand pressed against it as she examines something inside. She is quickly reprimanded by a shopgirl to not smear the glass.* [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] The street moves at a gentler pace. An elderly man feeds pigeons near the fountain, scattering crumbs from a paper bag. *A tall man with spectacles hurries past carrying a leather portfolio, colliding face first with a lamppost as he adjusts his glasses. He seems to be fine, though.* [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] People carry wrapped parcels under their arms, stepping carefully around puddles from the morning's brief shower. *A man in a top hat emerges from the bank across the square, consulting his pocket watch twice before hurrying toward a waiting carriage. He clutches a leather document case under one arm while gesturing impatiently at the driver.* [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] The afternoon light catches a mix of activity - clerks departing early from nearby offices, housewives completing final errands, children released from their lessons. A hansom cab waits outside the hotel, its driver checking his pocket watch. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

Once overfilled with scholarly texts, anthropological journals, and dusty tomes on ancient civilizations, the bookshelf now stands half-empty. Only a few volumes remain - mostly basic textbooks and common works of literature. The empty spaces suggest the items may have been sold off, leaving behind only what held little monetary value. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [CSS] .about-page { text-align: center; max-width: 700px; margin: 1em auto; } .about-heading { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 48px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 1em; line-height: 1.1; border-bottom: 2px solid currentColor; display: inline-block; padding-bottom: 0.1em; } .about-section { margin: 1.5em 0; padding: 0.8em; background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.05); border-radius: 8px; } .about-main { font-size: 1em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; } .credits-section { font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.4; } .credits-section em { font-style: italics; font-weight: normal; } .ai-disclaimer-link { display: inline-block; margin: 0.5em 0 1.5em; padding: 0.8em 1.5em; background-color: transparent; border: 2px solid currentColor; border-radius: 6px; font-weight: bold; font-size: 1.2em; text-decoration: none; } .back-link { display: block; margin-top: 0.2em; font-size: 1em; } [continue] <div class="about-page"> <div class="about-heading">About</div> <div class="about-main"> This game was made by {link to: 'https://darkeyev2.itch.io/', label: 'DarkeyeV2'}. Enjoy :) </div> <div class="about-section credits-section"> *Save system by {link to: 'https://maliface.itch.io/', label: 'Maliface'}.* *Inventory functionality partly by {link to: 'https://intfiction.org/u/javiermobile/summary', label: 'Javier Perna'} and their wonderful {link to: 'https://intfiction.org/t/chapbook-modal-text-window-strategy/52457/8', label: 'contribution'} to the Intfiction forums.* *ASCII patterns inspired and AI-generated from Rick Rubin's work on "{link to: 'https://www.thewayofcode.com/', label: 'The Way of Code'}."* </div> <div class="ai-disclaimer-link"> {link to: 'AI Disclaimer 1', label: 'Use of AI Disclaimer'} </div> <div class="back-link"> {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} </div> </div>

[if isPast == true] {embed passage: 'IsPast Page Layout Logic'} [if isPast == false; if passage.name == 'Eleanor'] {embed passage: 'Eleanor Page Layout Logic'} [if isPast == false; if passage.name == 'Hand Mirror Item'] {embed passage: 'Hand Mirror Page Layout Logic'} [if isPast == false; unless passage.name == 'Eleanor'; unless passage.name == 'Hand Mirror Item'] {embed passage: 'Normal Page Layout Logic'} [continue] [note] At the moment, this doesn't work with the Hand Mirror, where I'd also like to add this. [continued]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isPast",isInPast()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Ascii Deep Logic'} [continue]

[if helpfulnessNegative; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, nestled among a mound of pillows atop a messy [[four-poster bed]]. The green damask walls bear water stains near the listing [[wardrobe]], its door hanging ajar to reveal a number of haphazardly stuffed garments. The [[writing desk]] by the window hosts more empty wine bottles than papers, their necks clustered around a solitary inkpot sporting a dried nib. There’s also a rug, lying kicked into a corner. [if helpfulnessNone; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] A thin layer of dust mutes the damask walls' pattern. The [[wardrobe]] stands closed but bulging at its middle drawer, while the [[writing desk]], on which [[Eleanor]] is working by, displays stacks upon stacks of pages, most of them half-written correspondence. The rug shows circular wear patterns around the bedposts of a modest [[four-poster bed]]. [if helpfulnessMedium; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, currently busying herself by cleaning the floorboards and re-arranging the room. There are some recently beaten rugs by the window, which leave fresh lint on the damask walls' lower edges. The [[wardrobe]] doors sit nearly flush, save for one drawer containing neatly folded nightdresses. The [[writing desk]] holds neat stacks of field notes under a paperweight - a thin dust layer coats its inkwell collection. [if helpfulnessHigh; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, nestled among a mound of pillows atop a modest [[four-poster bed]]. The damask walls gleam as if recently brushed clean, complementing the [[wardrobe]]'s perfectly aligned drawers and freshly-oiled hinges. At the [[writing desk]], a blotter preserves pristine stationery beside a fresh inkwell and aligned nibs. The rug lies centered with mathematical precision, its pile combed in uniform directions. Neat. [unless helpfulnessNegative; if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, beached on top of a mound of pillows atop a modest [[four-poster bed]]. The damask walls gleam as if recently brushed clean, complementing the [[wardrobe]]'s perfectly aligned drawers and freshly-oiled hinges. At the [[writing desk]], a blotter preserves pristine stationery beside a fresh inkwell and aligned nibs. The rug lies centered with mathematical precision, its pile combed in uniform directions. Neat. [if helpfulnessNegative; if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [[Eleanor]] is here, beached on top of a mound of pillows atop a messy [[four-poster bed]]. The green damask walls bear water stains near the listing [[wardrobe]], its door hanging ajar to reveal a number of haphazardly stuffed garments. The [[writing desk]] by the window hosts more empty wine bottles than papers, their necks clustered around a solitary inkpot sporting a dried nib. There’s also a rug, lying kicked into a corner. [continued]

The quill hovers above the empty bread basket, its nib trembling in excitement. Then, in a flourish, it writes onto the paper: ~AVERT FAMINE, SILENTLY~ ~PRAY FOR ABUNDANCE TWICE~ ~SHARE THY BREAD WITH NONE~ The quill then writes the same once more, to the side. The paper rips, drifting a part of it gently into the basket's center. [[For a heartbeat, nothing happens->Bread prayer failure (not quite) cutscene 2]].

...and nothing keeps on happening. The basket remains still. The faint hum of anticipation lingers in the air, but nothing materializes. Just the empty, quiet wicker, as bare as before. The scrap of paper reattaches itself to its bigger counterpart. What did you do wrong? Did you misunderstand the meaning of the writing? Maybe it wasn't an incantation after all. Why were you so sure it was in the first place? Something isn't right... [if passage.visits == 2] *Drip... drip... drip...* [continued] {link to: 'bread basket', label: 'Back'}

BreadPrayer: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 2 GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 4 -- The quill hovers above the empty bread basket, its nib trembling in excitement. Then, in a flourish, it writes onto the paper: ~AVERT FAMINE, SILENTLY~ ~PRAY FOR ABUNDANCE TWICE~ ~SHARE THY BREAD WITH NONE~ The quill then writes the same once more, to the side. The paper rips, drifting a part of it gently into the basket's center. [[For a heartbeat, nothing happens->Bread prayer success cutscene 2]].

But then, the wicker shudders. From the center of the basket, a golden crust begins to form, expanding upward in a slow, deliberate bloom. Five loaves rise one by one, each perfectly formed, their surfaces dusted with pale flour. The scent of warm bread fills the room, rich and unmistakable. You have no doubt this will be a nice surprise for tomorrow's Eleanor. {link to: 'bread basket', label: 'Back'}

The awareness of your surroundings returns. You try to reach out, to touch the world around you, but your influence refuses to extend beyond the cold granite of your vessel. [[...->entryway Brought to the Museeum Ending]]

Footsteps, accompanied by the creak of floorboards. You hear the telltale sounds of Eleanor's morning routine: drawers opening and closing, the rustle of fabric, the shuffling of papers. She's moving through the apartment, most likely readying herself for the day of work ahead. A splash from the bathroom, the creak of wardrobe doors, rustling fabric - she's taking her time. You imagine her struggling with the laces of her corset, the waistband of her skirt pressing against her bloated profile... As she crosses the hallway, you can see that your assumptions were [[not wrong->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene 3]].

The morning light reveals how her work clothes simply... *strain* to contain her expanded figure. Her blouse buttons pull taut across her chest, while her waistcoat remains unfastened, possibly unable to close over her round middle. The skirt's waistband digs visibly into the soft flesh of her hips, creating a distinct roll that peeks over the top. Her face too seems to have grown fuller - you swear you've caught a very slight double chin when she went to reach for her bag. As she adjusts her corset through her clothes with a slight grimace, you can tell it's providing little actual containment anymore - you can't help but wonder how much larger her waist would be looking [[without it->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene 4]]. [note] Eventually she goes for the door, and picks up her bag from the floor near the table. Here the player gets to see her in her work clothes. She is still looking quite full and bloated from yesterday. (Possibly different versions based on if she was either FULL, STUFFED, or OVERSTUFFED) [continue]

Her hand is on the door handle, but pauses. She turns around, then glances down at the small, unassuming statuette on top of the table. After a moment's consideration, she reaches for it. "...when did I get *you*?" she murmurs, checking for a tag where you already know there isn't one. "You're looking old, too. Why don't we get you back to the museum, darling?" She says to the statuette, carefully placing it inside her bag. "Perhaps you'll help me get through today's presentation, [[too->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene 5]]".

You watch as she finally crosses the threshold of the apartment, allowing you to follow her outside. Eleanor sighs, making her way down the street. [["I'll need all the luck I can get..."->Museeum Ending]]

She hesitates at the cupboard, fingers drumming on the counter's edge. The dish lid clicks open. A rich, creamy aroma fills the air. Eleanor's throat works as she stares at the pale gold brick. "[[Just... just to taste its freshness->Butter dish cutscene 4]]," she breathes, scooping a fingertip's worth. Her eyes flutter closed as she swallows, a faint sheen appearing at her décolletage¹. [CSS] .very-small { font-size: 14px; font-variant: regular; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-small">¹The low-cut neckline of a dress.</span><br> </h1>

Her next scoop is twice as large. The cool fat slides down her throat, while a stray droplet glistens at the corner of her mouth. Eleanor braces against the counter as her corset, not yet removed from her work day, digs into her softening midsection. "Enough, that's... that's quite enough..." she gasps, yet her hand moves again - this time breaking off a full tablespoon's chunk. The butter coats her teeth as she chews, [[her breathing growing shallow->kitchenette]]. When she next looks down, only greasy smears remain in the dish. ...it took far less than expected for you to drive her to eat raw butter.

[Javascript] engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.inserts.add({ name: "^ ", syntax: "{^ _expression_}", description: "Print the contents of a variable, capitalizing it.", completions: ["^ "], match: /^\^\s+\S+$/i, render(firstArg, props, invocation) { const variableToShow = invocation?.slice(1).trimStart(); const valueToShow = engine.state.get(variableToShow); if (!valueToShow) { return `{${invocation}}`; } return valueToShow.slice(0, 1).toLocaleUpperCase() + valueToShow.slice(1); } }); });

CasketBoxOpen: true -- The knife hovers closer to the stone box, drawn to the task. Its chipped blade slides carefully into the seam where the lid meets the base, pressing deeper with a quiet scrape. At first, nothing happens. Then, as the knife makes its way around the perimeter, it catches on something. With a soft click, an internal mechanism releases, and the lid springs away fully. Inside... is a human [[skull]], resting at an odd angle. {link to: 'casket box', label: 'Back'}

Making contact with the vessel, you feel its pull intensify. Your form begins to waver as soft tendrils of energy are drawn back into the statuette's smooth surface. The room grows quieter, the ticking of the pocket watch slows down as it, together with all the items surrounding you, are freed from your gravitational pull and lower themselves to a resting place. It's almost as though the world outside has caught a deep, measured breath. Your work with Eleanor is far from done, that's for sure... [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'] [append] your efforts have barely scratched the surface. [[You have clearly lost your way->Chapter 1 Player ending cutscene 2]]. [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'] [append] there’s still so, so much to be done. [[You've yet to set her on her rightful path->Chapter 1 Player ending cutscene 2]]. [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'] [append] perhaps you really had done enough. [[It's hard to tell->Chapter 1 Player ending cutscene 2]]. [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'] [append] but from what you have seen, she is clearly worthy of your gift. [[What an achievement->Chapter 1 Player ending cutscene 2]]. [if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] [append] but even then, she has surpassed all of your expectations. Your long-gone followers would have basked in the glory of what you have helped her achieve. She is no mere glutton. [[She is worthy of the crown->Chapter 1 Player ending cutscene 2]].

pocketwatch: false Quillandpaper: false Dulllookingknife: false Clotofplaster: false measuringtape: false Eleanorhandbag: false handmirror: false measuringtape: false config.header.left: " " stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP <= 1): 'EMPTY' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 1 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 3): 'BLOATED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 3 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 6): 'FULL' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 6 && calories <= 10): 'STUFFED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 10): 'OVERSTUFFED' -- The weight of the ethereal world slips away, and you allow yourself to fade into the vessel’s cold, blackened granite. [CSS] .very-big { font-size: 56px; font-variant: regular; } .big { font-size: 48px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium { font-size: 36px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium-small { font-size: 30px; font-variant: small-caps; } .small { font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="big">[[Epilogue...->Epilogue Cutscene]]</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued]

You inspect the item closer. [if NotesPlastered == false] The amorphous sphere of plaster hovers near you, its surface constantly shifting and rippling like liquid stone. Though seemingly solid, it flows and pulses with a life of its own, occasionally forming and losing shapes - a nose here, an eye there, gone as quickly as they appear. {one of: ["*You watch as it temporarily takes the shape of a cube.*", "*It stretches itself flat like a canvas, then crumples back into a ball.*", "*The sphere attempts to mold itself into a tiny, rotund woman. Were those glasses you saw?*", "*For a moment, its surface gleams like polished stone.*", "*A keyhole-shaped depression briefly forms on its surface before melting away.*"], order: 'cycling'} [if NotesPlastered == true] The amorphous sphere of plaster hovers near you, its surface constantly shifting and rippling like liquid stone. Though seemingly solid, it flows and pulses with an unsettling life of its own, occasionally forming and losing shapes - a nose here, an eye there... *a face*... thankfully, they are gone as quickly as they appear. Only the faint indentations of what look to be tooth marks stay as a permanent fixture. {one of: ["*You watch as it temporarily takes the shape of a pentagon.*", "*It breaks itself flat as if being hit by a hammer, then crumples back into a ball.*", "*The sphere attempts to mold itself into a tiny, rotund woman... or was that a woman? You could've sworn you saw a pair of horns on her forehead.*", "*For a moment, its dented surface gleams like a polished skull.*", "*A keyhole-shaped depression briefly forms on its surface before melting away.*"], order: 'cycling'} [continue] {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Back'}

WardrobeFallen: true EleanorChocolate: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 3 WardrobeOpen: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

SittingroomDooropen: true Clotofplaster: true Eleanorspotted: true Quillandpaper: true Clotofplaster: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

Figurine1: true Figurine2: true Figurine3: true BreadPrayer: true BasinSinkPlugged: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 2 GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 4 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

correctartefact: 3 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

HandbagHit: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 GluttonyTerrace: true boxofsweetseaten: true RageTerrace: true GlutttonyIncremented: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 pastterraceturn: 4 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

[Javascript] engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.inserts.add({ name: "if", syntax: "{if _condition_: 'text', else: 'other text'}", description: "Show text if the contents of a variable evaluates to true.", completions: ["if"], arguments: { firstArgument: { required: true, placeholder: "'text'" }, optionalProps: { else: { placeholder: "'other text'" } } }, match: /^if\s+[^:,]/i, render: (first_arg, props, invocation) => { const condition = invocation.split(':')[0].slice(3); const value = new Function(`return ${condition};`)(); return ((value) ? first_arg : props['else']) || ''; } }); });

[if pastterraceturn == 1] You tilt your head, the sunlight catching the rim of your teacup. A faint smudge of lipstick lingers on Mary’s cup - not quite her usual shade. And that perfume? You don't recognize the fragrance, though it's quite pleasant. The details knit together. Is Mary trying to impress you? Why? What could you offer to her that she doesn't already get from her uncle? The thought lingers, but no further answers come. Just... more questions. [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] You tilt your head, the sunlight catching the rim of your teacup. A faint smudge of lipstick lingers on Mary’s cup - not quite her usual shade. And that perfume? You don't recognize the fragrance, though it's quite pleasant. But no... there's another scent to her - powdery. Familiar, too. Is it coming from her handbag? Has she gotten something from the bathroom? From the house? No, couldn't be. There's nothing you own that she would risk stealing. Or is there? [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

CuriosityTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace sharpens, clearer than ever before, as if your senses have been dialed up to the eleventh key. The breeze feels cooler against your skin. The scent of tea, your own French Earl Grey with a whisper of cream... Mary's dress, bright red and eye-catching, isn’t quite as pristine as it seemed. There are faint creases run along the bustle, and a loose thread dangles near the hem. It was hurried, borrowed? Perhaps bought just for the occasion? [[You focus in closer.->Curiosity Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace sharpens, clearer than ever before, as if your senses have been dialed up to the eleventh key. Mary’s absence feels... louder. The chair across from you sits empty, a faint imprint left on the cushion. Her half-finished teacup rests slightly askew, its handle marked by the delicate curve of a lipstick stain - not quite her usual shade. The wind shifts, ruffling the leaves in the potted plants nearby. You notice the subtle way they’ve been arranged - not symmetrical enough. What is this? Are you ok? You've been working too hard on those artefacts. Or maybe not enough? Your armpits begin to sweat. What do they mean? Is this expedition going to work? Is that going to be enough? Your heartbeat is getting louder. [[*You blink once more, and are forcefully detached from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace sharpens, clearer than ever before, as if your senses have been dialed up to the eleventh key. The breeze feels cooler against your skin. The scent of tea, your own French Earl Grey with a whisper of cream... Her dress, bright red and eye-catching, isn’t quite as pristine as it seemed. There are faint creases run along the bustle, and a loose thread dangles near the hem. It was hurried, borrowed? Perhaps bought just for the occasion? Her expression is different. Her eyes are ever-so-slightly wider. Is she nervous? Scared? [[You focus in closer.->Curiosity Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

config.header.center: "{embed passage: 'Debug Screen Logic'}" -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [CSS] .very-big { font-size: 88px; font-variant: regular; } .big { font-size: 48px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium { font-size: 36px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium-small { font-size: 30px; font-variant: small-caps; } .small { font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="big">Debug Mode activated</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued] If you're not me, then you might want to hit restart! This mode is not meant for players, and will spoil the game for you. [note] Remember to credit Maliface, add their Kofi and Itch.io page. Also remember to get rid of the Debug Screen. [continue] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP <= 1): 'EMPTY' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 1 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 3): 'BLOATED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 3 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 6): 'FULL' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 6 && calories <= 10): 'STUFFED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 10): 'OVERSTUFFED' -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] Keep in mind that the debug screen only works after the intro section. HelpfulnessEXP: {HelpfulnessEXP} GluttonyCalEXP: {GluttonyCalEXP} stuffedstate: {stuffedstate} [[Increase GluttonyCalExp]] [[Increase HelpfulnessExp]] [[Decrease HelpfulnessExp]] [[Give Pocket Watch]] [[Give Quill & Paper]] [[Give Dull-looking Knife]] [[Give Clot of Plaster]] [[Give Measuring Tape]] [[Give Handbag]] [[Give Handmirror]] [[Give all items]] [[Complete Figurine/Bread Puzzle]] [[Fail Attic Wardrobe Puzzle]] [[Complete Attic Wardrobe Puzzle]] [[Complete Handbag Puzzle]] [[Fail Handbag Puzzle]] [[Complete Terrace Panties Puzzle + Gluttony route]] [[Complete Double Door Intro]] [[Use Measuring Tape on all correct clothes]] [[Use Measuring Tape on all incorrect clothes]] [[Use Measuring Tape on all clothes]] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

[unless passage.name == 'Debug Screen';unless isCutscene == true;unless passage.name == 'Save Menu'] {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Debug Screen'} [if passage.name == 'Debug Screen'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [continue]

HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

[unless passage.name == 'Inventory';unless isCutscene == true;unless passage.name == 'Save Menu'] {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Inventory'} [if passage.name == 'Inventory'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [if isCutscene] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [continue]

[unless passage.name == 'Inventory';unless isCutscene == true;unless passage.name == 'Save Menu'] [[Save->Save Menu [if passage.name == 'Save Menu'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back' [continue]

[if pastterraceturn == 1] You set your teacup down, the click against the saucer louder than you meant it to be. Mary blinks mid-sentence. "I'm terribly sorry, Mary, but I’m feeling a bit... unwell. Yes, that's it. I think it would be best if we cut this short." While she pauses, her vacant expression and deadpanned smile do not falter. "Oh. Um... of course! I do hope it’s nothing serious? We can catch up another time, yes?" [[You nod, not trusting yourself to speak further.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] As Mary returns, you set your teacup down, the click against the saucer louder than you meant it to be. Mary blinks mid-sentence. "I'm terribly sorry, Mary, but I’m feeling a bit... unwell. Yes, that's it. I think it would be best if we cut this short." While she pauses, her vacant expression and deadpanned smile do not falter. "Oh. Um... of course! I do hope it’s nothing serious? We can catch up another time, yes?" [[You nod, not trusting yourself to speak further.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] You set your teacup down, the click against the saucer louder than you meant it to be. Mary blinks mid-sentence. "I'm terribly sorry, Mary, but I’m feeling a bit... unwell. Yes, that's it. I think it would be best if we cut this short." While she pauses, her vacant expression and deadpanned smile do not falter. "Oh. Um... of course! I do hope it’s nothing serious? We can catch up another time, yes?" [[You nod, not trusting yourself to speak further.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]]

Mary rises, gathering her things with the same cheerful ease she arrived with. "Well, this has been lovely, Eleanor!" she says with a warm smile. "You must promise to keep me updated on your plans. I’d love to see you go through with this Brittany business. How exciting!" The door closes behind her, leaving you in the terrace, alone. *Why did you even bother?* You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind. As you do so, [[the terrace begins to fade->Past terrace cutscene 2]].

DoubtTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace comes into focus, but something feels...off. Mary’s words blur together, her voice blending with the soft clink of teacups, the breeze rustling the leaves. You catch fragments of the empty chatter, but it barely registers. Instead, a sinking weight settles in your chest. The words you’d rehearsed, the points you’d meant to make... they all seem pointless now. Mary doesn't listen to people. Not really. She never is. Will she even try to hear you out? A lump rises in your throat, bitter and tight. *Of course she won't.* [[You should probably call this off.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace comes into focus, but something feels...off. A sinking weight settles in your chest. The words you’d rehearsed, the points you’d meant to make... they all seem pointless now. Mary wasn't listening. Not really. She never is. Does she even care? A lump rises in your throat, bitter and tight. No, of course not. [[You should probably call this off.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace comes into focus, but something feels...off. Mary’s words blur together, her voice blending with the soft clink of teacups, the breeze rustling the leaves. You catch fragments of the empty chatter, but it barely registers. Instead, a sinking weight settles in your chest. The words you’d rehearsed, the points you’d meant to make... they all seem pointless now. Mary isn’t listening. Not really. She never was. Has she even heard a word you said? [[You should probably call this off.->Doubt Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

Dressrippingseen: true -- The hands of the pocket watch spin backwards, and the yellow dress blurs before your eyes. When the scene stabilizes, you see Eleanor attempting to put it on, her movements growing increasingly frustrated as she struggles with the laces at the back. "Come on, just... a little... more..." she mutters, trying to force the bodice closed. The dress strains visibly across her expanded figure - her belly pushes stubbornly against the fabric, while her fuller chest threatens to spill over the neckline. Her rounded posterior makes the bustle redundant: the back of the dress is already amply filled without it. With one final, determined effort to tighten the laces... the seam gives way with a sharp *rip*, splitting along the waistline. Eleanor stares ahead, her fingers tracing the torn fabric. Her cheeks flush red as she hastily removes the ruined dress, tossing it toward the wardrobe with a quiet curse. {link to: 'dress', label: 'Back'}

You inspect the item closer. The knife's hilt is crafted from rough, weathered wood, while its blade is slightly curved and heavily chipped. Some kind of script runs along the metal, but it's either covered by soot or worn down. The blade keeps on swinging around you, always drifting toward anything it could potentially cut or break. {one of: ["*The knife twitches towards a nearby speck of dust.*", "*The blade gleams dully as it spins in place.*", "*It vibrates gently, as if excited - you reckon it hadn't seen much use before you came along.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Back'}

stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP <= 1): 'EMPTY' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 1 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 4): 'BLOATED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 4 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 8): 'FULL' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 8 && calories <= 12): 'STUFFED' stuffedstate (GluttonyCalEXP > 12): 'OVERSTUFFED' helpfulnessNegative: HelpfulnessEXP < 2 helpfulnessNone: HelpfulnessEXP >= 2 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 5 helpfulnessMedium: HelpfulnessEXP > 5 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 8 helpfulnessHigh: HelpfulnessEXP > 8 -- [if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'; unless helpfulnessNegative] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor frames her freckled face and round, skewed glasses. Her house robe cannot contain her anymore; the sash hangs loosely in defeat, its knot undone, allowing the fabric to spill open and around her overstuffed figure. Her chemise has been completely ridden up, baring the full, taut expanse of her gut, which juts outward imposingly, straining her otherwise petite frame. Eleanor’s flushed cheeks and labored, groaned breathing tell of a clearly excessive and drawn-out eating. Her hands are splayed to the sides of her grumbling gut, as if trying to soothe the tension - a touch too much to the top of her belly leads her to *belch* louder than before. Just looking at her, you can tell she is willfully pinned to the bed. [if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'; if helpfulnessNegative] The bedframe creaks under Eleanor’s weight as she lies sprawled atop a nest of torn biscuit wrappers and ledger pages. Her honey-blonde hair mats against sweat-slicked pillows as she sprawls across the bed. Her house robe cannot contain her anymore; the sash hangs loosely in defeat, its knot undone, allowing the fabric to spill open and around her overstuffed figure, disappearing into the canyon between her back and the shelf of her ass. Her chemise has been completely ridden up, baring the full, taut expanse of her gut, which juts outward imposingly, straining her otherwise petite frame. Eleanor’s flushed cheeks and labored, groaned breathing tell of a clearly excessive, drawn-out eating. A half-empty jar of preserves balances precariously on the nightstand, its spoon handle sticking to a marmalade smear - she attempts to reach for it, but her fingers merely brush the edge before retreating to knead her groaning belly. Her hands are now splayed to the sides of her grumbling gut, as if trying to soothe the tension - a touch too much to the top of her belly leads her to *belch* louder than before. Just looking at her, you can tell she is willfully pinned to the bed. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'; if helpfulnessNegative] Eleanor lies diagonally across the bed, her robe pooling around her hips and her honey-blonde hair left loose on top of the sheets. One stockinged foot idly kicks at a leaning tower of field reports, while the other dangles off the edge, toes brushing the layer of dust onto the floorboards, beneath the nightstand. Her unlaced chemise opens up at the underbust, revealing a crescent of freckled cleavage. The desk across the room hosts an inkwell crusted shut, and a ledger splayed open to an inventory page - it’s now serving as a coaster for a teacup ringed with stains. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'; if helpfulnessNone] Eleanor's spectacles slide down her nose as she hunches over the desk. Strands of honey-blonde hair escape her practical bun as her fountain pen first pokes at an inventory ledger, then continues working on a letter. Her blue house robe hangs open over a chemise stretched taut across her shoulders, its sash dangling forgotten from a bedpost. The faint rumble of her stomach fills the otherwise silent room. You can see her roll her eyes and sigh - she merely adjusts her glasses with an ink-smudged finger and reaches for another paper. [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'; if helpfulnessMedium] Eleanor's chemise sleeves are rolled to her elbows as she stretches on her tiptoes, dusting a high shelf crowded with novels. She is wearing a practical wool skirt that swishes around with each reach, the hem brushing against the floorboards. A lock of hair clings to her damp neck as she hums… a little off-key, rearranging excavation tools. You watch as the bed is occasionally used as temporary storage for folded maps, their corners fluttering whenever her rounded hips bump the mattress. Though you hear her stomach growling, she has no time for it - she merely pats her apron's dusty pockets before resuming her cleaning duties. [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'; if helpfulnessHigh] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor falls in soft waves, framing her freckled face and round glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She is dressed in a comfortable house robe of pale blue, cinched at the waist. Beneath it, a lace-trimmed chemise peeks out. The book in her hands shifts as her fingers trace its edges, lingering on the corner of a page. Her figure is petite, though softened - the gentle plushness of her arms, the curve of a rounded belly against the folds of her robe, the swell of her thighs... all visible beneath the loosely tied sash. The faint rumble of her stomach fills the otherwise silent room. You can see her roll her eyes and sigh. [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'; if helpfulnessNegative] Eleanor lies diagonally across the bed, her robe pooling around her hips and her honey-blonde hair left loose on top of the sheets. The bedsprings creak as Eleanor rolls onto her side, dislodging biscuit crumbs from the gap between her corset and skirt waistband. A tin lies dented at the footboard, its interior smelling of chocolate despite being conspicuously empty. She paws blindly at the nightstand, knocking over a candlestick. Thankfully it’s not lit, though it still leaves a bit of wax on an excavation budget draft. You watch her sit up, reach for an hairbrush nearby, and use it to scratch beneath her corset's lower edge where red lines crosshatch soft love handles. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'; if helpfulnessNone] Eleanor's forearm creates a makeshift pillow against the desk as she squints at a fragmented map. Crumbs fleck the parchment near an overturned teacup, its dregs staining a report on… well, you don’t find yourself having enough time to read through it before she yanks it away and into a stack nearby. Her robe strains where the sash digs into her softened hips, the chemise beneath riding up to reveal a faint muffin top above her petticoat. She shifts with a huff that jostles her bust and rounded midsection against the desk edge. [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'; if helpfulnessMedium] Eleanor's knuckles are locked around the broom handle as she sweeps around the bedroom’s floor, her apron riding up over the curve of her belly. She pauses to hike up her stockings, which you see are currently digging into her plush thighs. There are now dusty imprints on their fabric. She grunts, half-kneeling to retrieve a fallen magnifying glass. The motion makes her chemise part between its strained buttons, revealing a red mark where her corset digs into her bloated midsection. [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'; if helpfulnessHigh] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor falls in soft waves, framing her freckled face and round glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her house robe, pale blue and cinched at the waist, clings a little closer to her midsection than usual. Beneath it, the lace-trimmed chemise outlines the curve of her stomach - a slight rise. Her fingers absently graze the sash of her robe as she reads, adjusting it in search of comfort. A small flush warms her cheeks, and every so often, she pauses to press a hand gently against her abdomen. [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'; if helpfulnessNegative] Eleanor's back sprawls against the headboard, her blonde, though unkept hair framing her freckled face. Both chemise sleeves are rolled above her elbows, revealing forearms glistening with sweat that darkens the fabric beneath her armpits. A map of a place you don’t recognize rustles under her left thigh each time she shifts to relieve pressure on her bloated belly. The wardrobe mirror reflects a half-eaten wheel of cheese on its shelf - surely not an artifact, perhaps just part of a snack - and a stockings-strewn floor that hasn't seen a broom in weeks. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'; if helpfulnessNone] The desk chair protests as Eleanor leans back, its cane seat bowing under her weight. A half-unlaced corset dangles from one armrest while her free hand absently massages the swell pushing her chemise seams to their limits. She squints at a pottery reconstruction diagram - you are getting the impression her attention is elsewhere, though. Each attempt to cross her legs ends in a frustrated huff when her thickened thighs refuse to cooperate, making the many ink pots tremble with every of these movements. [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'; if helpfulnessMedium] The wardrobe mirror reflects Eleanor's flushed face as she wrestles a box of survey chains¹ onto the dresser. Her untied nightgown flaps open with each labored step, revealing a chemise soaked through at the underbust, where her fat spills over a hastily loosened corset. You watch as she uses the bedpost as leverage when bending to straighten rug corners, her breath coming in short puffs. An abandoned hairpin jabs into the mattress - close by you spot a a sweat-darkened patch shaped exactly like her hips. You reckon she might have rested there for a moment or two. ¹Distance-measuring devices used for surveying. [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'; if helpfulnessHigh] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor falls in soft waves, framing her freckled face and round glasses perched slightly askew. Her house robe, pale blue and cinched at the waist, is noticeably strained where it meets the sash, the fabric gathered awkwardly around her rounded, grumbling belly. Likewise, her chemise now rises further up and clings to the skin. She shifts slightly atop the bed, her fingers drumming idly on the book in her lap as if trying to distract herself from how much she must - to get to this stage - have eaten in these last couple of days. A groan escapes her lips as she leans back, sets her book to the side, and cradles her middle with both hands. [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'; if helpfulnessNegative] The bed resembles an archaeological dig site - stratified layers of crumpled linens, food wrappers and tins, and a corset hanging from the canopy post like a flag. Eleanor's chemise has ridden up to her ribcage, leaving her firm, bloated stomach exposed to the stale air of the bedroom. Each belch makes her freed breasts quiver against the sweat-darkened sheets. When she tries to reach a wine flute, a spring on her mattress fails her, sending half of her body sliding downward. The subsequent swearing match as she rights herself back to her post leaves her breathless, a discarded gravy-stained apron serving as a pathetic handkerchief. *It doesn’t seem like Eleanor has had much passion for her work as of late.* [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'; if helpfulnessNone] Eleanor's left nipple peeks through a gap in her chemise where button threads have surrendered hours ago. She slouches away from the desk, preferring to use the shelf that is her freed belly as a rest for clay tablet transcriptions. A belch escapes as she is forced to arch forward for more blotting paper, the sound echoing in the teapot she's been using as a paperweight. Her right hand moves in sluggish circles over the taut dome of her gut, smearing notes with sweat-damp fingerprints while the abandoned quill leaks ink across a shipping manifest. [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'; if helpfulnessMedium] Eleanor's stockinged feet shuffle across a number of scattered papers as she attempts to straighten her books. Each reach upward makes her chemise an inch higher. Its hem is now tucked under her stuffed belly like a makeshift sling, and it does nothing to hide just how much bigger she is now looking. A damp patch spreads between her shoulder blades as she leans heavily on the desk. Her cleaning is much more sporadic now, and easily interrupted - a groan when crouching to stack journals, a hissed curse after bending, a prolonged lean against the wardrobe while massaging the top of her belly. *She should probably rest…* [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'; if helpfulnessHigh] The honey-blonde hair of Eleanor frames her freckled face and round glasses perched slightly askew. Her house robe, cinched at the waist, looks ready to burst, the sash visibly digging into her swollen midsection, holding back an avalanche of fat. Her chemise rides up, revealing the taut curve of her swollen belly, which has come to dominate her petite frame. Eleanor's cheeks are flushed, and a faint sheen of perspiration glistens on her brow. Her book lies at her side as her hands now cradle and gently rub the overstuffed stomach that is now serving as support to her chest. Each breath is shallow, and between the occasional *burp*, every slight movement elicits a faint, contented moan. [continued] [if passage.fromText == 'Eleanor'] {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'} [if passage.fromText == 'Back'] {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'}

EleanorChocolateCutscene: true -- As you drift down through the floorboards to reach the [[bedroom]], the distinct sound of rustling paper and soft munching grows clearer. You emerge into the bedroom to find Eleanor still laying on her bed, though now surrounded by an impressive amount of empty purple wrappers. Her fingers, which she is currently licking, are smudged with chocolate - her cheeks are also evidently flushed. Finally, she swats away the wrapper on top of her belly and lets out a contented sigh, patting her middle.

EleanorFirstAnimus: EleanorFirstAnimus + 1 -- [if EleanorFirstAnimus == 1] Something draws you toward Eleanor's seated form - an invisible thread tugging at your essence. You drift closer, your consciousness reaching tentatively toward the warmth of her mind. The sensation is strange, unfamiliar. The boundary between observation and intervention blurs, but you can't stop yourself. You are sucked inward, [[toward the source of her thoughts and emotions.->Eleanor Control]] [unless EleanorFirstAnimus == 1] {embed passage: 'Eleanor Past Terrace Persuasion Menu'} [note] The world shifts as you’re drawn forward, weightless yet deliberate, until everything blurs into a pale golden haze. When your senses return, you find yourself inside a dimly lit space; a brass cabin encloses you, the walls lined all manners of file cabinets, random stacks of papers, barrels and delicate dials. *You detect the faint rhythm of a beating heart.* In front of you, right under a blue frosted window, is a [[🧮control panel->control panel. Behind you, is a shining opening back to the [[🌿terrace->Eleanor Past Terrace. [continue]

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. Round glasses rest on her freckled nose, catching the sunlight as she nods and listens to Mary with a polite, somewhat forced smile. The pale yellow dress she wears is pristine, its lace-trimmed sleeves falling just past her elbows. It fits her well enough, but you notice how stiffly she sits, shoulders squared, as if wary of shifting too much. Her hands rest lightly on the teacup, fingers idly tracing its rim without lifting it to drink. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 2] [if pastterraceturn == 2; unless boxofsweetseaten] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. Round glasses rest on her freckled nose, catching the sunlight as she nods and listens to Mary with a polite, somewhat forced smile. The pale yellow dress she wears is pristine, its lace-trimmed sleeves falling just past her elbows. It fits her well enough, but you notice how stiffly she sits, shoulders squared, as if wary of shifting too much. Her hands rest lightly on the teacup, fingers idly tracing its rim without lifting it to drink. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 2; if boxofsweetseaten] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks now. A faint stain darkens the lace at her sleeve, and you notice the fabric of her yellow dress stretched tighter across her middle. With every small movement onto the chair, you hear the creaking of laces and fabric. Her round glasses slip slightly down her freckled nose - her gaze is a bit more distant. Her lips, faintly glossed from the sweets, part slightly as though to catch her breath. You watch her attempt to loosen the laces of her corset through the dress, and fail to do so. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 3] [if pastterraceturn == 3; unless boxofsweetseaten] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. Round glasses rest on her freckled nose, catching the sunlight as she nods and listens to Mary with a polite, somewhat forced smile. The pale yellow dress she wears is pristine, its lace-trimmed sleeves falling just past her elbows. It fits her well enough, but you notice how stiffly she sits, shoulders squared, as if wary of shifting too much. Her hands rest lightly on the teacup, fingers idly tracing its rim without lifting it to drink. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 3; if boxofsweetseaten] Eleanor sits still, her honey-blonde hair carefully arranged into a loose twist, though a few strands have already slipped free. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks now. A faint stain darkens the lace at her sleeve, and you notice the fabric of her yellow dress stretched tighter across her middle. With every small movement onto the chair, you hear the creaking of laces and fabric. Her round glasses slip slightly down her freckled nose - her gaze is a bit more distant. Her lips, faintly glossed from the sweets, part slightly as though to catch her breath. Knowing intimately how full she really is, you are shocked of how well she is hiding it from Mary. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Eleanor Control]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [continued] {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

In your absence, Eleanor has... grown. A wide, soft belly presses away the front sides of her house robe - you reckon it wouldn't be close to cover the full expanse of her anyway. Now sat onto the well-worn cushions, the settee groaning under her substantial frame. Her fat shifts and settles, spilling onto her lap as she leans back against the cushion, the platter carefully balanced on her knees. With her hand now holding a periodical and the other reaching for a fork, she sighs as she spots the utensils on the low table. She is forced to arch her way towards it, and to clumsy brush against the mess on top of it. [[Your vessel almost topples over the edge->Eleanor Slob ending cutscene 2]].

As she forks into the cake as if it was a single serving, her gaze falls on the letter. "Ugh... again with that. Why haven't you... mmph... thrown it away already, Eleanor?" she muses aloud, her voice thick with cream and sugar. Without a second thought, she reaches for it and throws it behind her, the motion causing her generous bosom to strain against her house robe. Her belly lets out a demanding rumble, and she shifts her substantial weight, the settee groaning beneath her as her plump backside settles [[deeper into the cushions->Eleanor Slob ending cutscene 3]].

Though she is done with the cake, her stomach doesn't stop its demands. You watch Eleanor struggle to get up from the couch, shifting her mass forward with both hands planted firmly on the cushions. The settee groans in protest as she rocks back and forth, building momentum. Finally, with a determined grunt, she manages to heave herself upright. Her hips sway as she follows that up with a waddle towards the dining room, her generous backside straining against the now thinned fabric of her house robe. Before she exits your view entirely, she pauses to adjust the garment, muttering something about clothes. [[At that, you feel your strength waning.->Eleanor Slob ending cutscene 4]]

Your essence begins to congeal, drawn back into the cold granite of your vessel. Though harder to think, you are left wondering why, while still feeling the intoxicating pull of Eleanor's hunger, you are not being given enough strength to continue your work. Through the years, Eleanor lost something. [[But what?->Slob Ending]]

Eleanorspotted: true -- In your dormant state, you have watched this young woman for the better part of three years. You know her by heart now: her diminutive height - no taller than five feet, two inches -, her pale complexion dotted with freckles that scatter across her cheeks and chest, the round lenses sitting on top of that mousy expression, and the honey-blonde locks falling just short of her shoulders. By focusing on her form, you feel it. A connection between the two of you. [[A resonance->Eleanor starting cutscene 2]].

There is some work to be done - you are weak, a mere ghost. She cannot perceive you, and you cannot touch her. Yet, as Miss Elenor scuttles to the side, her eyes narrowing at a shaft of light creeping in from the window and impeding her writing, you spot the likely culprit for you being here. The burgeoning swell of her belly, soft and round, is unmistakable. Her arms now show a softness to them, as do her thighs and chest. This hunger you feel, this deep, insatiable desire for more - it's [[hers->Eleanor starting cutscene 3]].

And now you know your purpose. Reinvigorated, a sense of direction pulses through your faint form. [[You must satisfy Eleanor's hunger.->bedroom]]

[note] [continued]

helpfulnessNegative: HelpfulnessEXP < 2 helpfulnessNone: HelpfulnessEXP >= 2 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 5 helpfulnessMedium: HelpfulnessEXP > 5 && HelpfulnessEXP <= 8 helpfulnessHigh: HelpfulnessEXP > 8 gluttonyNone: GluttonyCalEXP <= 1 gluttonyMedium: GluttonyCalEXP > 1 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 4 gluttonyHigh: GluttonyCalEXP > 4 && GluttonyCalEXP <= 8 gluttonyHighest: GluttonyCalEXP > 12 -- [if helpfulnessNegative && gluttonyNone] Forget the failure of your stated mission - you were a particularly negative influence on Eleanor's life. A failure on all fronts. A spirit best forgotten. [continue] [if helpfulnessNegative && gluttonyMedium] Though you were somewhat driven, your lack of damns about Eleanor's everyday struggles made things harder for her in the long run. You were more of a burden than anything else. [continue] [if helpfulnessNegative && gluttonyHigh] In the end you just took care of your mission - whenever you could've helped, you decided otherwise. Eleanor had to pay the consequences of your toxic, egotistical influence over her [[life->Future, slob, no more job ending cutscene 1]]. [continue] [if helpfulnessNegative && gluttonyHighest] You gave in to your own hunger while ignoring Eleanor’s needs. You barely helped, and when you did, it was for your own personal gain and obsession. Eleanor is left worse off, and [[you only made matters worse for her->Future, slob, no more job ending cutscene 1]]. [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if helpfulnessNone && gluttonyNone] [[You did nothing, and returned to nothing.->Forgotten ending cutscene 1]] [continue] [if helpfulnessNone && gluttonyMedium] You fulfilled your mission with little thought for Eleanor's well-being. You never bothered to offer any assistance on other matters unless it directly helped to satisfy her hunger. You believed it was enough... [[and yet...->Forgotten ending cutscene 1]] [continue] [if helpfulnessNone && gluttonyHigh] In the end you took care of your mission - no thought was given about Eleanor's wants other than the ones related to gluttony. You considered this an acceptable outcome... [[and yet...->Forgotten ending cutscene 1]] [continue] [if helpfulnessNone && gluttonyHighest] In the end you took care of your mission - no thought was given about Eleanor's wants other than the ones related to gluttony. You considered this a more than acceptable outcome... [[and yet...->Forgotten ending cutscene 1]] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if helpfulnessMedium && gluttonyNone] Though you did not fulfill your mission, you did what you could to assist Eleanor in small ways. A touch of kindness here and there, to show that you care. [continue] [if helpfulnessMedium && gluttonyMedium] You helped wherever you could, in matters of hunger and everyday life. A balanced spirit in all things. [continue] [if helpfulnessMedium && gluttonyHigh] You satisfied Eleanor's hunger to the best of your abilities, and even managed to help her in other matters wherever you could. [[A good balance.->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]] [continue] [if helpfulnessMedium && gluttonyHighest] You satisfied Eleanor's hunger *tenfold*, and managed to help her in other matters wherever you could. Your balance tipped generously towards indulgence, but still, [[you were there when needed.->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if helpfulnessHigh && gluttonyNone] Though your mission was a failure, you still managed to be a surprisingly positive influence on Eleanor's life. It's worth something. [continue] [if helpfulnessHigh && gluttonyMedium] Your dedication to helping on other matters was evident, even more so than to satisfy her hunger. [[Eleanor benefitted from your care.->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]] [continue] [if helpfulnessHigh && gluttonyHigh] You satisfied Eleanor's hunger, and helped her in other matters wherever you could. Your intentions were selfish, and yet: [[you were a positive influence on her life.->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]]. [continue] [if helpfulnessHigh && gluttonyHighest] You satisfied Eleanor's hunger *tenfold*, and helped her in other matters wherever you could. Your intentions were selfish, and yet: [[you were a *strongly* positive influence on her life->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene]]. [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="big">END OF CHAPTER 1</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued]

WardrobeFallen: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

wrongartefact: 3 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

WardrobeFallen: true -- The knife drifts toward the wardrobe, its chipped blade glinting in the dusty light. With careful precision, it moves toward the wooden box propping up the wardrobe's missing leg. [if WardrobeOpen == true] One sharp tap is all it takes. The box moves just enough for the wardrobe to lose stability and lurch flat on the floor with a thunderous [[*THUMP*->Falling padlocked wardrobe dull knife cutscene 2]]. [if WardrobeOpen == false] One sharp tap is all it takes. The box moves just enough for the wardrobe to lose stability and lurch flat on the floor with a thunderous *THUMP*. {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

EleanorChocolate: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 3 -- Just before it does so, as it tilts, you catch the chocolate bars begin to slide, then tumble out. Some cascade across the floor, disappearing through the gap in the floor, their purple wrappers glinting as they vanish below. *You hear a muffled, surprised gasp coming from underneath.* {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

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Time has passed, that much is clear. The awareness of your surroundings returns. You try to reach out, to touch the world around you as you once did, but your influence refuses to extend beyond the cold granite of your vessel. [[...->entryway forgotten ending]]

Your vision flickers back into focus - the dimness of the sitting room materializes around you. Your vessel has been moved: it now sits atop the low wooden table. The space is quite different from how you last saw it - you can't help but wonder how much time has passed since you last gained awareness of your being. Days? Months? [[Years, perhaps?->Sitting room slob ending]]

Clotofplaster: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

Dulllookingknife: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

Eleanorhandbag: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

handmirror: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

measuringtape: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

pocketwatch: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

Quillandpaper: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

pocketwatch: true Quillandpaper: true Dulllookingknife: true Clotofplaster: true measuringtape: true Eleanorhandbag: true handmirror: true measuringtape: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Before you realize it, your hand drifts to the box. The first sweet is gone too quickly to be savored, a soft burst of cream and sugar. They are absolutely delectable. Mary’s words stop mid-sentence, and you feel her eyes on you. [[Still, you reach for more. ->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] Before you realize it, your hand drifts to the box. The first sweet is gone too quickly to be savored, a soft burst of cream and sugar. They are absolutely delectable. Looking towards the door back to the apartment, you quicken your pace. [[You've got to have more. ->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] Before you realize it, your hand drifts to the box. The first sweet is gone too quickly to be savored, a soft burst of cream and sugar. They are absolutely delectable. Screw the meeting, it was going nowhere anyway. Mary’s words stop mid-sentence, and you feel her eyes on you. [[Still, you reach for more. ->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]]

[if pastterraceturn == 1] You can feel it now - your belly rounding slightly, the snug bodice of your dress pressing uncomfortably against your middle. A final croissant vanishes past your lips, and only then do you pause, chest rising with shallow breaths. The box lies empty. You feel heavy, the tautness of your stomach undeniable. It swells gently against the dress, pressing back with each constrained breath. Why do you always have to keep your corset so *tight*? It barely works to slim you anymore. Mary's voice finally cuts through the haze, softer now, almost amused. "Oh my... Eleanor, you poor thing! You must've been starving..." [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] You can feel it now - your belly rounding slightly, the snug bodice of your dress pressing uncomfortably against your middle. A final croissant vanishes past your lips, and only then do you pause, chest rising with shallow breaths. The box lies empty. You feel heavy, the tautness of your stomach undeniable. It swells gently against the dress, pressing back with each constrained breath. Why do you always have to keep your corset so *tight*? It barely works to slim you anymore. [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] You can feel it now - your belly rounding slightly, the snug bodice of your dress pressing uncomfortably against your middle. A final croissant vanishes past your lips, and only then do you pause, chest rising with shallow breaths. The box lies empty. You feel heavy, the tautness of your stomach undeniable. It swells gently against the dress, pressing back with each constrained breath. Why do you always have to keep your corset so *tight*? It barely works to slim you anymore. Mary's voice finally cuts through the haze, softer now, almost amused. "Oh my... Eleanor, you poor thing! You must've been starving..." [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

GluttonyTerrace: true boxofsweetseaten: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace seems sharper, clearer - as though you’ve just become acutely aware of your own body. Mary’s voice hums on, and on, and on... does she ever shut up? But it feels distant, muffled beneath the sudden ache of...hunger? *Craving*. It gnaws at you, coiling deep in your belly, though you’re certain you’ve already eaten today. Haven’t you? Your gaze drops to the pastries. So delicate. So small. [[Come now, *Eleanor*, just one would be harmless.->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace seems sharper, clearer - as though you’ve just become acutely aware of your own body. You feel a sudden ache of...hunger? *Craving*. It gnaws at you, coiling deep in your belly, though you’re certain you’ve already eaten today. Haven’t you? Your gaze drops to the pastries. So delicate. So small. [[Come now, *Eleanor*, just one would be harmless.->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]. Mary is not even here to judge you. [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace seems sharper, clearer - as though you’ve just become acutely aware of your own body. Mary’s voice hums on, and on, and on... does she ever shut up? But it feels distant, muffled beneath the sudden ache of...hunger? *Craving*. It gnaws at you, coiling deep in your belly, though you’re certain you’ve already eaten today. Haven’t you? Your gaze drops to the pastries. So delicate. So small. [[Come now, *Eleanor*, just one would be harmless.->Gluttony Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

You inspect the item closer. The hand mirror is silver, its surface very polished. The frame is elaborately decorated, with swirling patterns and delicate floral motifs - far too ornate for everyday use, you reckon. Of course, there is no reflection of your form. Instead, whichever the side it points towards, it keeps showing you the same exact view of Eleanor's bedroom. {one of: ["*You can hear a soft, metallic hum coming from it.*", "*The frame seems to adjust its grip on the glass, as if ensuring a better view.*", "*For a moment, you catch the reflection showing a different angle of the room. It returns to its normal view as it realizes you are looking at it.*", "*The silver catches a purple glint as it floats in front of you.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] *You see through the reflection of the mirror, and find yourself able to see the bedroom... and **her** within it.* {embed passage: 'Eleanor'} {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.color: "black on magenta-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on magenta-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on magenta-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on magenta-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffccf0 on #2d0a1f" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff66b3" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e6478a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff80c4 on #2d0a1f" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff66b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff66b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e6478a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff80c4 on #2d0a1f" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff66b3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff80c4 on #2d0a1f" -- [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'] ~ ~///(*)＼＼＼＼~ ~ [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'] ~ ~///(　*　)＼＼＼＼~ ~ [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'] ~ ~//(　　*　　)＼＼＼＼~ ~ [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'] ~ ~/(　　*　　　　);＼＼＼＼~ ~ [if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] ~ ~:(　　*　　　　　　);＼＼＼＼~ ~

The handbag rests near you, a modest accessory crafted from soft, dark leather. Its surface shows faint creases from use, and a simple brass clasp secures its contents. Inside you spot a folded handkerchief, the stub of a pencil, a compact mirror, some scattered coinage... [if correctartefact < 1] [append] and that's about it. Eleanor must have emptied it, this can't be all she brings with her to work. [if correctartefact >= 1] [append] Of course, it's now weighted down by the artifact you've placed inside of it. [if correctartefact > 1] [append] Of course, it's now weighted down by the artifacts you've placed inside of it. [continue] [if wrongartefact < 3] {one of: ["*Its clasp snaps open and shut, as if testing its bite.*", "*It drifts closer to your other collected items, perhaps hoping to taste them.*", "*Its leather creases form what might be a disapproving frown.*"], order: 'cycling'} [if wrongartefact == 3; if passage.visits == 1] *The clasp remains firmly shut.* [if wrongartefact == 3; if passage.visits == 2] *It drifts at a slight distance, still offended by your choices.* [if wrongartefact == 3; if passage.visits == 3] *You catch them drift closer to you to inspect an item. It then goes back to sulk.* [if wrongartefact == 3; if passage.visits > 3] *You watch as they hover in front of you, and begrudgingly open back up to let their [[handkerchief]] out.* [continue] {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Back'}

{link to: 'Bread prayer success cutscene 1', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You take a moment to look at the flickering items in a halo around your form. These are all objects you have felt a need to bring with you. [if pocketwatch == true] ➼ Pocket watch [continued] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.footer.center: "" HelpfulEXP: 0 Butterdish: false bathtubcutscene: false Eleanorspotted: false calories: 0 stuffedstate (calories <= 1000): 'EMPTY' stuffedstate (calories > 718 && calories <= 2146): 'BLOATED' stuffedstate (calories > 2146 && calories <= 8608): 'FULL' stuffedstate (calories > 8608 && calories <= 11500): 'STUFFED' stuffedstate (calories > 11500): 'OVERSTUFFED' pocketwatch: false bathtub: false roastedchestnuts: false isCutscene: false Dulllookingknife: false pantryrobberdealtwith: false winecrate: false Clotofplaster: false Eleanorhandbag: false wrongartefact: 0 correctartefact: 0 arrowheadstaken: false clayvesseltaken: false teacupattempt: false teacupfixed: false Quillandpaper: false pantryrobberboo: false successfuldelivery: false pastterraceturn: 0 boxofsweetseaten: false pastterraceturn: false test1: 0 test12: true test2: true test3: false Test14: 0 HandbagHit: false handmirror: false candleholder: false sewingboxsolved: false SittingroomDooropen: false guestroomfirst: false doubledoorsUnlocked: false doubledoorengravings: false ApronSeen: false CasketBoxOpen: false CasketBoxKeySeen: false SkullTaken: false EleanorBreakfast: false AtticRevealed: false BasinSinkPlugged: true Figurine1: false Figurine2: false Figurine3: false HelpfulnessEXP: 5 GluttonyCalEXP: 0 DishesDestruction: false LandscapeUncrook: false EleanorChocolate: false WardrobeOpen: false WardrobeFallen: false EleanorChocolateCutscene: false BreadPrayer: false skulltaken: false BasinSinkPlugged: false measuringtape: false TapeGreenSkirtFitted: false TapeWaistcoatUnFitted: false TapeDressFitted: false TapeBlouseFitted: false TapeSkirtFitted: false TapeUndergarmentsFitted: false SlobEndingTurns: 0 ForgottenEndingTurns: 0 Dressrippingseen: false PocketwatchHad: false BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns: true PottedPlantsDestroyed: false NotesPlastered: false GluttonyTerrace: false EleanorFirstAnimus: 0 MaryFailureAnimus: 0 -- <div class="chapter-container"> <div class="chapter-heading">Chapter 1</div> <div class="chapter-subtitle">Spirit of Hunger</div> </div> </div> You do not know your [[name->Intro 1]]. {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

Test15: Test14 + 1 -- Perhaps you never had one. Long ago - so very long ago - you were more than the object in which you now reside. You were revered and feared, of that you are surprisingly sure. But it no longer matters. Your memories of that age have faded away almost entirely. It's all just echos of a different, more strifeful time. [[But something has changed.->Intro 2]] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

For the first time in what feels like thousands of years, you are capable of seeing again. You see the vessel that has kept you in stasis - a small statuette carved from blackened stone, dulled smooth by time. It depicts a woman. A pregnant one? Or just fat? [if Test14 == 4] And the ones in the embed are not ignored either, they are simply going later and so don't factor into the calculations of the host passage. [continue] [[What a sight.->Intro 3]] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [note] These were placed between the two javascripts. [continued [JavaScript [continue]

Slowly, you turn your gaze away from it. The faint gloom of your surroundings begins to coalesce and you are beginning to think clearly again: this is where your vessel has sat immobile for at least three years now. A modest flat, its entryway quiet and still, save for the gentle ticking of a close-by clock. But, once again, something's different now. [[Someone.->Intro 4]] {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless pocketwatch; unless Quillandpaper; unless Dulllookingknife; unless Clotofplaster; unless measuringtape; unless Eleanorhandbag; unless handmirror] For the moment being, you have nothing with you. [else] You take a moment to look at the flickering items in a halo around your form. These are all objects that have decided to follow you. [continued] [if pocketwatch == true] [[➼->Pocket watch]]The Pocket watch. [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bathtub'; if bathtub == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past Bathtub cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'butter dish'; if Butterdish == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past butter dish cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'stove'; if roastedchestnuts == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past roasted chestnuts cutscene]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'pantry'; if pantryrobberdealtwith == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past pantry robbery occasion]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'crate'; if winecrate == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past wine cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'chipped blue teacup'; if teacupattempt == false; if teacupfixed == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->chipped Past teacup attempt cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'front door'; if successfuldelivery == false; if SittingroomDooropen == true] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past front door occasion 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'terrace'; if pastterraceturn == 0] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->terrace cutscene 1 - Past]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'candleholder'; if candleholder == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past candle holder cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'sewing box'; if sewingboxsolved == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past sewing box occasion 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'double doors'] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past double door pocket watch cutscene 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'dining table'; if EleanorBreakfast == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Past dining table occasion 1]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pocket watch';] [append] [[...where is it?->Past dining table pocket watch merge cutscene]] [if pocketwatch == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'dress'; if Dressrippingseen == false] [append] [[It seems to be ticking faster...->Dress ripping cutscene past]] [continued] [if Quillandpaper == true] [[➼->Quill and Paper]]The Quill & Paper. [append] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'figurine'] [append] [[They have something for you...->brass figurine quill and paper cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'terracotta figurine'] [append] [[They have something for you...->terracotta figurine quill and paper cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'heavily damaged figurine'] [append] [[They have something for you...->heavily damaged figurine quill and paper cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pantry robbery occasion'; if pantryrobberboo == false] [append] [[They've stopped their writing...->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pantry robbery occasion 2'; if pantryrobberboo == false] [append] [[They've stopped their writing...->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bones'] [append] [[They have something for you...?->quill and paper bones cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'double doors'; if doubledoorengravings == false] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper double door cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'cabinet'] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper cabinet cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bread basket'; if Figurine1 == true; if Figurine2 == true; if Figurine3 == true; if BreadPrayer == false; if BasinSinkPlugged == false] [append] [[They've stopped their writing...->Bread prayer failure (not quite) cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bread basket'; if Figurine1 == true; if Figurine2 == true; if Figurine3 == true; if BreadPrayer == false; if BasinSinkPlugged == true] [append] [[They've stopped their writing...->Bread prayer success cutscene 1]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'porcelain dishes'] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper porcelain dishes cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'corset'] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper corset cutscene]] [if Quillandpaper == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'brass astrolabe'] [append] [[They have something for you...->quill and paper astrolabe cutscene]] [continued] [if Dulllookingknife == true] [[➼->Dull-looking knife]]The Dull-looking knife. [append] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pantry robbery occasion'; if pantryrobberdealtwith == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Past pantry robbery dealt with cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past pantry robbery occasion 2'; if pantryrobberdealtwith == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Past pantry robbery dealt with cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'sewing box'; if sewingboxsolved == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Sewing box present cutscene dull knife failure]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past sewing box occasion 1'; if sewingboxsolved == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past sewing box occasion 2'; if sewingboxsolved == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'casket box'; if CasketBoxOpen == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Casket Box dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'porcelain dishes'; if DishesDestruction == false] [append] [[It yearns for violence...->Porcelain dishes destruction dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'pastoral landscape'; if LandscapeUncrook == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Landscape Uncrook dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'padlocked wardrobe'; if WardrobeFallen == false] [append] [[It yearns for action...->Falling padlocked wardrobe dull knife cutscene]] [if Dulllookingknife == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'potted plants'; if PottedPlantsDestroyed == false] [append] [[It yearns for violence...->potted plants dull knife cutscene]] [continue] [if Clotofplaster == true] [[➼->Clot of Plaster]]The Clot of Plaster. [append] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'chipped blue teacup'; if teacupfixed == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->chipped teacup fixing cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'vessel'] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->vessel mimick cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past front door occasion 1'; if successfuldelivery == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Past plaster key delivery cutscene 1]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'Past front door occasion 2'; if successfuldelivery == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Past plaster key delivery cutscene 1]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'double doors'; if SittingroomDooropen == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster key double doors cutscene 1]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'casket box'; if SittingroomDooropen == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster failure casket box cutscene 1]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'basin sink'; if BasinSinkPlugged == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster basin sink faucet stop (to make quiet) cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'padlocked wardrobe'; if WardrobeOpen == false] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster Padlocked wardrobe opening cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'painting'] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster Painting cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'landscape'] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster landscape cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'periodicals'] [append] [[Its shape quivers...->Plaster periodicals cutscene]] [if Clotofplaster == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'notes and sketches'; if NotesPlastered == false] [append] [[Its shape falters...->Plaster notes cutscene]] [continue] [if measuringtape == true] [[➼->Measuring Tape]]The Measuring tape. [append] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'light green skirt' ; if TapeGreenSkirtFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon flutters...->Measuring tape light green skirt cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'dress'; if TapeDressFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon snakes around...->Measuring tape dress cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'waistcoat'; if TapeWaistcoatUnFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon snakes around...->Measuring tape waistcoat cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'blouse'; if TapeBlouseFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon flutters...->Measuring tape blouse cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'skirt'; if TapeSkirtFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon flutters...->Measuring tape skirt cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'corset'] [append] [[Its ribbon snakes about, ->Measuring tape corset tighter cutscene]][[uncertain...->Measuring tape corset looser cutscene]] [if measuringtape == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'undergarments'; if TapeUndergarmentsFitted == false] [append] [[Its ribbon flutters...->Measuring tape undergarments cutscene]] [continue] [if Eleanorhandbag == true] [[➼->Handbag]]The Handbag. [append] [append] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if wrongartefact == 3] [append] It's clasped shut, and refuses to open. [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'figurine'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'fern terrarium'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'porcelain dishes'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'bones'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'brass astrolabe'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'stone bust'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'heavily damaged figurine'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'terracotta figurine'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'pottery shards'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'casket box'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'vessel'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->vessel wrong artefact cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'brass clock'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->wrong artefact cutscene]] [note] WRONG ARTEFACTS END HERE - PLACE ALL THE ARTEFACTS IN THE GAME CORRECT ARTEFACTS END HERE [continued] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'clay vessel'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3; if clayvesseltaken == false] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->correct artefact clay vessel cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'arrowheads'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3; if arrowheadstaken == false] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->correct artefact arrowheads cutscene]] [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'skull'; if wrongartefact < 3; if correctartefact < 3; if SkullTaken == false] [append] [[Its handkerchief sticks out...->correct artefact skull cutscene]] [continued] [if handmirror == true] [[➼->Hand Mirror Description]]The Hand Mirror. [if handmirror == true; unless last_ingame_passage == 'silver bowl'; unless last_ingame_passage == 'mirror'] [append] {link to: 'Hand Mirror Item', label: 'Its surface ripples...'} [continue] [if handmirror == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'silver bowl'] [append] [[Its surface ripples... differently?->attic reveal cutscene]] [if handmirror == true; if last_ingame_passage == 'mirror'] [append] [[Its surface ripples... differently?->mirror hint for attic cutscene]] [continue] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} {ascii backdrop: 'inventory'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Inventory Logic'}

[JavaScript] comesFromMenu = function (){ if (trail.length>1){ if (engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length-2]).tags.includes("Menu")){ return true; }else{ return false; } } else { return undefined; } }; get_last_ingame_passage =function(){ let trail_clone=Object.assign([],trail); let rtrail=trail_clone.reverse(); let result = rtrail.find(el => !engine.story.passageNamed(el).tags.includes("Menu")); return result; } [continued] [JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Cutscene"); }; isInPast = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Past"); }; [continued]

config.style.page.color: "black on gray-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on gray-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on gray-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on gray-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6e6e6 on #1a1a1a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#d4a574" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#c4956b" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#e6b885 on #1a1a1a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#d4a574" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#d4a574" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#c4956b" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#e6b885 on #1a1a1a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#d4a574" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#e6b885 on #1a1a1a" -- ~ ☆ ✥ ☾ ✥ ☆ ~ {ascii backdrop: 'loading'}

LandscapeUncrook: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The dull-looking knife hovers closer to the crooked frame, its blade tilting as if contemplating the task. With a precise, almost delicate motion, it presses the flat of its blade against the frame’s edge. A faint *scrape* follows as the knife nudges the bottom corner, shifting the painting ever so slightly. The frame settles, perfectly level now. Much better. {link to: 'landscape', label: 'Back'}

[if passage.fromText == 'A copper dial'] With a flick of your wrist, you rotate the dial all the way to the right. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Gluttony Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'A scarlet lever'] With a show of strength, you set the lever to the very top. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Rage Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'An ivory switch'] You slowly, gently, flick the switch on. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Poise Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'A trembling chain'] You hastly yank the chain towards you. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Doubt Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'A small brass key'] With a flick of your wrist, you turn the brass key to the right. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Curiosity Eleanor Past terrace cutscene] [if passage.fromText == 'A velvet-covered button'] You press your hand onto the button, finding it strangely malleable and soft. At that, the cabin surrounding you shifts in its dimensions, with the blue window expanding outwards. Once again you’re drawn forward and everything blurs into a pale golden haze. [[You blink.->Longing Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]

config.style.googleFont: '<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Bona+Nova:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400&display=swap" rel="stylesheet">' config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "20" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.page.verticalAlign: "center" config.style.page.style: "shadow" config.style.backdrop: "Indigo-2" config.style.dark.page.header.border: 'thin-line' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.footer.center: "" config.style.page.footer.link.active.font: "regular" config.style.page.header.link.active.font: "regular" config.footer.left: "Spirit of Hunger" config.style.page.footer.font: "" config.style.page.theme.enableSwitching: true config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.body.transition.name: 'crossfade' config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.theme.override: 'light' dialogue.speed: 'Normal' InventoryDebug: false AsciiBackdrop_Opacity: 0.2 AsciiBackdrop_Speed: 8 AsciiBackdrop_FontSize: 14 AsciiBackdrop_Clickable: true AsciiBackdrop_Pattern: 'random' AsciiBackdrop_Enabled: 'On' -- [JavaScript] comesFromMenu = function (){ if (trail.length>1){ if (engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length-2]).tags.includes("Menu")){ return true; }else{ return false; } } else { return undefined; } }; get_last_ingame_passage =function(){ let trail_clone=Object.assign([],trail); let rtrail=trail_clone.reverse(); let result = rtrail.find(el => !engine.story.passageNamed(el).tags.includes("Menu")); return result; } [continued] [JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Cutscene"); }; isInPast = function () { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(passage.name); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Past"); }; [continued] <link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Dancing+Script:wght@400;700&display=swap"> <style> .titleScreen { text-align: center; } body { background-color: gray; } </style> <div class="titleScreen"> <center><h1 style="font-family: 'Dancing Script', cursive; font-size: 56px;"> </h1></center> <br><br> </div> [align center] Loading... [continued] [after 3 second] [align center] [[Click here to continue ->Title screen]][[.->Title screen variant]] [continued] {embed passage: 'Bought Variable Set'} {ascii backdrop}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] You tear your gaze away, your breath unsteady as you place your teacup back down. It’s ridiculous. All of it. You're better than this, Eleanor! Better than getting yourself all bothered up for, out of all people, such an dimwitted individual. You are professional, intelligent, cold as ice. This nonsense should have nothing to do with you. Mary notices, finally. "Eleanor? Are you quite alright? You’ve gone all quiet on me." You force a smile, your corset pressing against the rapid thrum of your heart. "Yes," voice soft, controlled. "Just... thinking." She hums, unconvinced but unbothered. [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] You tear your gaze away, your breath unsteady as you place your teacup back down. It’s ridiculous. All of it. You're better than this, Eleanor! Better than getting yourself all bothered up for, out of all people, such an dimwitted individual. You are professional, intelligent, cold as ice. This nonsense should have nothing to do with you. Mary notices, finally. "Eleanor? Are you quite alright? You’ve gone all quiet on me." You force a smile, your corset pressing against the rapid thrum of your heart. "Yes," voice soft, controlled. "Just... thinking." She hums, unconvinced but unbothered. [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

EleanorDepression: true -- Your gaze drifts lower, to the shape of your own hands resting idly in your lap. Hands made for work, for cataloging, writing. When was the last time someone held them? [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [note] You rise from your seat, the stiff fabric of your dress shifting around your form. You wander toward the edge of the terrace, resting your hands on the railing as you stare out into the street below. You had thought this home would bring you closer to your family. That inheriting it would fill the void, tether you to some sense of history. But who were you kidding? You are the last of your lineage. No one's here. [[*You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.*->Past Terrace (Turn system) [continued]

LongingTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace sharpens, its colors gaining intensity and blurring at the edges. Mary’s voice goes on and on, and as you begin to zone out of it, you start to hear a faint melody to it. Her curls catch the sunlight just so, the red fabric of her dress pressing snug against her perfect waist, her lips curling into that easy, shallow smile. You shouldn’t be staring. But your gaze lingers, tracing the curve of her neckline, the faint flush to her cheeks, her chest, oversized for such a lithe frame. A stirring heat blooms low in your belly and loins - unexpected, unwelcome... unfortunately for you, undeniable. [[You force yourself to look away. ->Longing Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace sharpens, its colors gaining intensity and blurring at the edges. The terrace is silent. No Mary. No idle chatter. The emptiness presses down on you, heavier than the still air. [[No one to share the quiet with.->Longing Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace sharpens, its colors gaining intensity and blurring at the edges. Mary’s voice goes on and on, and as you begin to zone out of it, you start to hear a faint melody to it. Her curls catch the sunlight just so, the red fabric of her dress pressing snug against her perfect waist, her lips curling into that easy, shallow smile. You shouldn’t be staring. But your gaze lingers, tracing the curve of her neckline, the faint flush to her cheeks, her chest, oversized for such a lithe frame. A stirring heat blooms low in your belly and loins - unexpected, unwelcome... unfortunately for you, undeniable. [[You force yourself to look away. ->Longing Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Mary sits across from Eleanor, dressed in a striking red day dress with puffed sleeves and a prominent bustle. The fabric, though vibrant, seems slightly wrinkled, as if just bought for the occasion. Her dark curls are pinned loosely, with a few stray locks brushing her round cheeks. Her figure is lithe, her few and forcefully exaggerated curves comfortably filling the structured gown. The fit seems snug across her thin waist. She speaks with cheerful abandon, gesturing often with her teacup, sloshing its contents just shy of the rim. Her words tumble out without pause, though there's little depth behind them. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Mary Control Failure]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 3] Mary sits across from Eleanor, dressed in a striking red day dress with puffed sleeves and a prominent bustle. The fabric, though vibrant, seems slightly wrinkled, as if just bought for the occasion. Her dark curls are pinned loosely, with a few stray locks brushing her round cheeks. Her figure is lithe, her few and forcefully exaggerated curves comfortably filling the structured gown. The fit seems snug across her thin waist. She speaks with cheerful abandon, gesturing often with her teacup, sloshing its contents just shy of the rim. Her words tumble out without pause, though there's little depth behind them. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Mary Control Failure]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 3; unless boxofsweetseaten] Mary sits across from Eleanor, dressed in a striking red day dress with puffed sleeves and a prominent bustle. The fabric, though vibrant, seems slightly wrinkled, as if just bought for the occasion. Her dark curls are pinned loosely, with a few stray locks brushing her round cheeks. Her figure is lithe, her few and forcefully exaggerated curves comfortably filling the structured gown. The fit seems snug across her thin waist. She speaks with cheerful abandon, gesturing often with her teacup, sloshing its contents just shy of the rim. Her words tumble out without pause, though there's little depth behind them. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Mary Control Failure]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [if pastterraceturn == 3; if boxofsweetseaten] Mary sits across from Eleanor, dressed in a striking red day dress with puffed sleeves and a prominent bustle. The fabric, though vibrant, seems slightly wrinkled, as if just bought for the occasion. Her dark curls are pinned loosely, with a few stray locks brushing her round cheeks. Her figure is lithe, her few and forcefully exaggerated curves comfortably filling the structured gown. The fit seems snug across her thin waist. She speaks with cheerful abandon, gesturing often with her teacup, sloshing its contents just shy of the rim. Her words tumble out without pause, though there's little depth behind them. *That's not all. You catch yourself getting pulled towards [[her form->Mary Control Failure]], drawn closer by some unseen thread.* [continued] {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

You inspect the item closer. The measuring tape hovers near you, its ribbon marked with precise increments in both inches and centimeters. The brass end catch shows signs of frequent handling, and though surely functional, is in fact loose. {one of: ["*The ribbon flutters like a snake tasting the air.*", "*It measures an invisible distance, then swiftly coils back with a snap.*", "*Its brass end swings gently, catching the light.*", "*...you don't know why, but you get the distinct impression it doesn't like you.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Back'}

TapeBlouseFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the blouse. Its ribbon winds around the garment's waist and chest, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric shifts beneath the tape's pressure as it expands itself into wider circles. The blouse stretches subtly, its seams loosening just enough to better accommodate its owner's figure. {link to: 'blouse', label: 'Back'}

The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the corset. Its ribbon winds around the garment, and though it starts to move, it quickly loosens itself away without making a difference. Its brass end looks back towards you, and you get the impression that it genuinely doesn't want to loosen the corset any further. Perhaps a looser corset would only encourage further gains? Maybe it fears that Eleanor might one day have to replace her tape with a longer one. {link to: 'corset', label: 'Back'}

The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the corset. Its ribbon winds around the garment, and though it starts to move, it quickly loosens itself away without making a difference. Its brass end looks back towards you, and you get the impression that it genuinely doesn't want to tighten it any further. Odd, but maybe it feels bad that Eleanor has to suffer inside of it every working day. {link to: 'corset', label: 'Back'}

TapeDressFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the yellow dress. Its ribbon winds around the garment's waist, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric shifts beneath the tape's pressure as it expands itself into a wider circle... worsening the damage. As it scales up the needed 2, 4, 6, 10 inches, the dress ends up splitting in half. {link to: 'dress', label: 'Back'}

TapeGreenSkirtFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the light green skirt. Its ribbon winds around the garment's hem, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric stretches as the tape extends itself into a slightly bigger circle, subtly expanding the garment to better accommodate its owner's figure. This does not, however, manage to fix the hem - if anything, it makes it larger. {link to: 'light green skirt', label: 'Back'}

TapeSkirtFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the skirt. Its ribbon winds around the garment's waistband, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric shifts beneath the tape's pressure as it expands into a wider circle. The skirt's waist stretches, its pleats adjusting to accommodate a fuller figure while maintaining its overall shape. {link to: 'skirt', label: 'Back'}

TapeUndergarmentsFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the undergarments. Its ribbon winds around the chemise's bust and waist, then shifts to trace the drawers' waistband. As the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a soft glow emanates from the points of contact. The cotton fabric shifts beneath the tape's pressure, expanding subtly at key points. The chemise grows fuller through the chest and middle, while the drawers' waistband stretches to accommodate wider hips. {link to: 'undergarments', label: 'Back'}

TapeWaistcoatUnFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 1 -- The measuring tape unspools itself and drifts toward the waistcoat. Its ribbon winds tightly around the garment's middle, and as the brass end catch meets the rest of the tape, a sharp glow emanates from the points of contact. The fabric creaks as the tape constricts itself into a *smaller* circle, forcing the garment to shrink until its buttons strain against their holes. Seemingly satisfied with having just made Eleanor's work attire significantly more uncomfortable, the tape releases its grip and returns to you. {link to: 'waistcoat', label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.color: "black on emerald-1" config.style.page.link.color: "black" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "black" config.style.page.link.active.color: "black on emerald-1" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "black" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "black" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "black" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "black on emerald-1" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "black" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "black on emerald-1" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffffff on #004d26" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#66ff99" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#4dcc7a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#004d26 on #66ff99" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#80ffb3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#66ff99" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4dcc7a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#004d26 on #66ff99" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#80ffb3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#004d26 on #66ff99" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">1.1</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Lucky Charm</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'luckycharm'}

Try as you might, using this item on this object yelds no results. {back link, label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" -- ~ ~ ✥ ◇ ✥ ~ ~ [note] ⟇ ~ ~ ~ ✥ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ✥ ⟡ ✥ ~ ~ \~ \~\*\~ ✥ \~\*\~ \~ \~ \~\*\~ ✿ \~\*\~ \~ [continued]

[Javascript] engine.state.set('zOneOfTracking', {}); libfunc = {}; libfunc.randInt = (max) => { return Math.floor(Math.random() * max); // Random int from 0 to max-1 } libfunc.shuffleArray = (arr) => { for (let i = arr.length - 1; i > 0; --i) { const j = libfunc.randInt(i + 1); [arr[i], arr[j]] = [arr[j], arr[i]]; } return arr; } libfunc.embarassinglySimpleHashCode = (s) => { let hash = 0; for (let i = 0; i < s.length; ++i) { let chr = s.charCodeAt(i); hash = (hash << 5) - hash + chr; hash |= 0; } return hash; } libfunc.hashInvocation = (invocation) => { //return passage.name + invocation; return libfunc.embarassinglySimpleHashCode(passage.name + invocation).toString(); } engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.inserts.add({ name: "first time", syntax: "{first time: 'text'}", description: "Show snippet of text only the first time the insert is viewed.", completions: ["first time"], arguments: { firstArgument: { required: true, placeholder: "'text'" } }, match: /^first\s+time\b/i, render: (to_print, props, invocation) => { const hash = libfunc.hashInvocation(invocation); if (zOneOfTracking[hash] === undefined) { zOneOfTracking[hash] = true; return to_print; } } }); engine.template.modifiers.add({ name: "first time", syntax: "[first time]", description: "Show block of text only the first time the passage is viewed.", match: /^first\s+time\b/i, process(output, {invocation, state}) { const hash = libfunc.hashInvocation(invocation); if (zOneOfTracking[hash] === undefined) { zOneOfTracking[hash] = true; } else { output.text = ''; output.startsNewParagraph = false; } } }); }); [Javascript] engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.inserts.add({ name: "one of", syntax: "{one of: ['choice 1', 'choice 2'], order: 'order'}", description: "Display varying text every time the player encounters this insert.", completions: ["one of"], arguments: { firstArgument: { required: true, }, optionalProps: { order: { placeholder: "'order'" } } }, match: /^one\s+of\b/i, render(choices, props, invocation) { const hash = libfunc.hashInvocation(invocation); let prev = zOneOfTracking[hash]; let ret; const order = (props.order || '').toLowerCase(); if (order === 'random' || order === '') { let choice = prev; while (choice == prev) { choice = libfunc.randInt(choices.length); } zOneOfTracking[hash] = choice; ret = choices[choice]; } else if (order === 'pure random') { ret = choices[libfunc.randInt(choices.length)]; } else if (order === 'shuffled') { if (prev === undefined || prev.length == 0) { prev = libfunc.shuffleArray([...choices]); } ret = prev.pop(); zOneOfTracking[hash] = prev; } else if (order === 'stopping' || order === 'cycling') { if (prev === undefined) { prev = 0; } else { prev++; if (prev >= choices.length) { prev = (order === 'stopping') ? choices.length - 1 : 0; } } zOneOfTracking[hash] = prev; ret = choices[prev]; } else { if (config.testing) { throw new Error( `The {one of} order was "${order}" but must be one of "random", "pure random", "shuffled", "stopping", or "cycling"` ); } ret = invocation; } return ret; } }); });

config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic'}" -- The shelves, once barren, are now looking a bit healthier. Even so, someone has clearly gone through a lot of the previously stolen supplies. The tin of biscuits has been moved, and likewise the loaf of bread is now gone, along with most of the jars of jam. A few remain, half-empty. [if winecrate == false] The wicker basket that once lay abandoned is now neatly placed on the bottom shelf, empty but for a few stray crumbs. The open [[crate]] has also been moved, but just by a few feet to the left, possibly to use as the occasional stepping stool - its walls are quite thick, enough for a foot to rest on. [if winecrate == true] The wicker basket that once lay abandoned is now neatly placed on the bottom shelf, empty but for a few stray crumbs. The open, now empty crate has also been moved, but just by a few feet to the left, possibly to use as the occasional stepping stool - its walls are quite thick, enough for a foot to rest on. *It seems Eleanor came back for more of the wine after all.* [continued] {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

bathtub: true -- The air shimmers and bends around you, and the washroom dissolves into an earlier moment in the day. The tub is now filled with steaming water, its surface dotted with bubbles. The faint sound of water dripping from the faucet punctuates the quiet. It's at that moment, that [[Eleanor->Past Bathtub cutscene 2]] enters the room.

Her blonde hair is loosely pinned up and she seems to be carrying a small porcelain dish filled with bath salts, which she readily pours into the water. Discarding her robe, she now stands there with her chest and round belly out in the open. She steps in, her pale skin flushed from the warmth of the room, and sinks into the warm water. For a while, she simply rests, the rise and fall of her chest the only movement. Then, with care, she reaches for the bar of soap, lathering her hands before trailing the foam along her arms, neck, and legs. You don't get to see her exiting the tub - the washroom returns to its original state, and you find yourself gazing at an empty bathtub. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 -- Eleanor's shoulders tense as her stomach emits a loud gurgle. She shifts in her chair, the wood creaking under her weight. Her free hand toys with the top button of her high-collared blouse. "[[Stop being absurd->Butter Dish cutscene 3]]," she mutters to herself, glaring at the ledger. But her eyes keep darting to the silver dish's reflection in the window glass. When she finally stands, her petticoats whisper a protest against her thickened waist.

pastterraceturn (comesFromMenu() != true): pastterraceturn + 1 -- {embed passage: 'Past Terrace Narrative Logic'}

You watch as Mary rises from her seat. She gathers her things with practiced efficiency, her movements brisk, but not unkind. "This has been lovely, Eleanor!" she says with a warm smile. "You must promise to keep me updated on your plans. I’d love to see you go through with this Brittany business. How exciting!" Eleanor stands as well, offering a polite smile, though you can tell she's quite disappointed - not surprising given how little progress she has made in her attempt at a more serious talk. "Of course. Thank you for stopping by, Mary. It... it was nice." As the door closes behind the two of them, [[the terrace begins to fade->Past terrace cutscene 2]].

You find yourself onto the same terrace, but in a different moment in time. You have no clue of what day it is, but from the sun up above you know it's roughly 5 o'clock. The table now sits at the center, a [[box of sweets]] and a polished [[tea set]] atop it. The [[potted plants->past potted plants]] are lush, their green leaves swaying gently in the breeze. [[Eleanor->Eleanor Past Terrace]] sits across from [[Mary]], who speaks animatedly, gesturing with one hand while sipping her tea with the other. Behind you is the way back inside the [[flat->past terrace denied entry cutscene]]. *“Brittany, is it?” Mary says with a playful smile, "I'm told it's lovely this time of year! Are you going to get a room in Rennes? Nantes, perhaps?"* *Eleanor laughs softly. "Well, maybe, I... I haven't really planned that far ahead. I’m more interested in securing the funding first, you understand."*

[if pastterraceturn == 1] {embed passage: 'Past Terrace First Visit'} [if pastterraceturn == 2] {embed passage: 'Past Terrace Second Visit'} [if pastterraceturn == 3] {embed passage: 'Past Terrace Third Visit'} [if pastterraceturn == 4] {embed passage: 'Past Terrace Ending'}

You find yourself onto the same terrace. The table remains at the center, a [[box of sweets]] and a polished [[tea set]] atop it. The [[potted plants->past potted plants]] are lush, their green leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Behind you is the way back inside the [[flat->past terrace denied entry cutscene]]. [if boxofsweetseaten] *Eleanor takes a deep breath before speaking again. "See, this is **urp**... excuse me. As I was saying, this is actually what I - "* [unless boxofsweetseaten] *Eleanor takes a sip of her tea before speaking again. "See, this is actually what I wanted to discuss to you about. Mr. Trevelyan is quite-"* [continue] *Mary sets her teacup down and rises, smoothing her skirts. "Ehm, you have to excuse me for a moment,” she says, gesturing toward the flat. "Where’s your washroom again?"* *Eleanor nods and offers a faint smile. "Ah. Right down the hall, second door on the right."* [[Eleanor->Eleanor Past Terrace]] sits alone now, fidgeting absently with her spoon.

You find yourself onto the same terrace. The table remains at the center, a [[box of sweets]] and a polished [[tea set]] atop it. The [[potted plants->past potted plants]] are lush, their green leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Behind you is the way back inside the [[flat->past terrace denied entry cutscene]]. A soft rustle at the door signals [[Mary]]’s return. She steps back onto the terrace with a quick smile and a slight adjustment of her dress. [if boxofsweetseaten] *Mary’s gaze drifts to the now-empty box of sweets. "Oh, my. Someone was *hungry,* weren’t they?" she murmurs, voice low and teasing. She leans forward with her chin perched lightly on her hand.* [[Eleanor->Eleanor Past Terrace]] stiffens, her face coloring as she fidgets with her teacup, avoiding Mary’s stare. [unless boxofsweetseaten] *"Well, that was refreshing," she says, settling back into her seat. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, Brittany...why, I’m told it's lovely this time of year!"* [[Eleanor->Eleanor Past Terrace]] *sighs*. [if EleanorDepression] She’s not smiling as broadly as before.

Butterdish: true -- You near the watch to the butter dish, and its hands start rapidly spinning in reverse. The kitchenette shimmers, reforming into an earlier state - afternoon light slants through the windows as Eleanor sits at the table sorting correspondence. The butter dish sits right where you saw it before, on the cupboard shelf behind her. As you crossed through the wooden panel to check if it was still there, you have made its lid ring softly on its plate. Her pen pauses mid-word. She glances over her shoulder at the dish, then firmly turns back to her letters. [[The scratch of her pen grows more aggressive.->Past Butter dish cutscene 2]]

candleholder: true HelpfulEXP: HelpfulEXP + 1 -- As you raise the pocket watch, its hands spin back with a soft, steady whir. The candleholder blurs as the sitting room darkens. The burnt-down candle melts backwards, now whole once more, its flame dancing gently in the dead of night. While still in the same room, you are not alone anymore. A snore brings your attention to Eleanor, who lies sprawled on the settee, [[fast asleep->Past candle holder cutscene 2]].

Her work blouse and cravat have been thrown to the other side of the room, while her undergarments and corset has been kept on but loosened, riding high as if hastily abandoned mid-removal. The pale swell of her belly rises and falls with each deep breath, and spilling over the waistband of her tight skirt. One arm dangles loosely off the side, fingers barely grazing the floor, while the other rests atop her exposed midsection, fingers gently curled. As you float near, you mistakenly brush onto the flame, putting it off. With that, the room darkens entirely, before shining back to the present. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

...but it’s no use - you're not strong enough for this much of a strain, and your influence on the material falters. It slips off the shelf, striking the counter below with a sharp crack. The piece near its base shatters away, leaving that very same jagged gap you were just inspecting. Eleanor sighs softly, picking up the broken cup and returning it to the shelf with a faint shake of her head before closing the door. As time resumes, the cupboard shifts back to its present state. {link to: 'chipped blue teacup', label: 'Back'}

As you lift the pocket watch, the hands begin to reverse, winding backward in a slow, steady rhythm. Morning light now filters softly through the windows. You watch as Eleanor steps in from the kitchenette, her hair loosely gathered, but already dressed in her work clothes. She carries a plate with three muffins on top of it, a bowl of steaming porridge, and a cup of tea, which she carefully arranges on the table. Satisfied, she lowers herself into a chair, taking the time to better adjust the chain of a [[pocket watch->Past pocket watch]] against her blouse. She then stirs the porridge, [[taking a few measured spoonfuls->Past dining table occasion 2]].

Eleanor pauses, spoon halfway to her lips, before setting it down with a soft clink against the bowl. With a brow, she reaches for the same pocket watch hanging from her blouse, clicking it open to check the time. “Oh, blast...” she mutters, clearly annoyed by what the quadrant is telling her. Rising quickly from the chair, she pushes the bowl of porridge aside. The table scrapes softly against the floor as she stretches over it for her work bag on the other side of the table. With one last glance toward the sideboard, she hurries out of the dining room, vanishing into the hallway, and most likely out of the apartment. The room stills, and in the blink of an eye, you're back in the present. {link to: 'dining table', label: 'Back'}

EleanorBreakfast: true pocketwatch: false -- The pocket watch is no longer floating around you. Instead, you catch a green sheen run right on top of the pocket watch you were just inspecting. As Eleanor glances down to check the time, her brow furrows in confusion. The hands spin erratically, whirring too fast, then halting, then spinning backward once more. With a quiet huff, she unclips its chain and sets it aside on the table, muttering, “Bloody thing... well, it's as good of an excuse as any. Can't blame me for getting late, they gave it to me.” Convinced it’s simply broken, she relaxes, leaning back in her chair and [[resuming her breakfast->Past dining table success cutscene 2]].

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 -- The bowl, still warm, empties gradually as she works through it, each bite deliberate, but with a hunger that feels less about savoring and more about necessity. Soon the porridge is gone, leaving only a smear of milk at the bottom of the bowl. She pauses, glances toward the muffins... and after a moment of hesitation, [[reaches for one.->Past dining table success cutscene 2.5]]

Crumbs dust the linen runner as she tears through the muffin in half, pressing the clotted cream against the soft interior before devouring it piece by piece. Her chewing slows, but she doesn't stop - her right hand drifts toward the second one, and brings it to her mouth. The final muffin joins the others, reduced to nothing more than crumbs and a few lingering flakes of sugar clinging to her lips. Eleanor exhales deeply, her hand settling against her stomach [[in visible satisfaction->Past dining table success cutscene 3]].

She lingers there for a moment, eyes fluttering shut... before catching herself. She shifts, attempting to rise. The chair creaks beneath her as she plants both hands on the table's edge for support. With a quiet grunt she heaves herself up, her posture slightly more hunched as she adjusts to the fullness pressing against her corset. Pausing, she smooths the front of her blouse. Her hips sway in a subtle waddle as she heads for the hallway, one hand lingering near her stomach, the other steadying the strap of her work bag over her shoulder. You hear the front door open and close again - at that, the dining room shifts back to the present. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

ApronSeen: true -- As you lift the pocket watch, its hands begin the head backwards. As you focus on them, the surrounding hallway brightens, then darkens again, then brightens again... you soon get the feeling that time itself is rewinding to a past moment. The symbols above the double doors fade away, vanishing entirely as the wood smooths over, unmarked. [[Finally, it begins to slow down->Past double door pocket watch cutscene 2]]. But you're not alone anymore.

Eleanor, stepping right through you, is moving inside of the hallway, cradling a large box in front of her. Her sleeves are rolled up, a smudge of white dust streaking her freckled cheek. Humming softly, she places the box down, and rummages through it. You watch as she picks up a container full of plaster, frowns slightly, and then replaces it with another tin, this one filled with [[chalk sticks->Past double door pocket watch cutscene 3]].

White in her left hand, she then balances on the tips of her toes, carefully drawing a string of unknown symbols. Her expression is one of determination, tongue poking slightly from the corner of her mouth as she tries, and almost fails, to reach higher. Her belly and chest are pressing onto the wood, forcing her at a distance - this only hindering her efforts. Once satisfied, she steps back, examining her work before nodding with a pleased hum. Tucking the chalk into the pocket of her apron, she gathers her supplies and makes her way toward the staircase, disappearing up the steps. With Eleanor gone, the present returns with a sharp snap. The symbols flare purple once more, exactly as they were before. {link to: 'double doors', label: 'Back'}

"Mmph... well, can't leave this out in the open... more for us at the post office, I guess." he mutters to himself. You hear the delivery man heading down the stairs of the building, footsteps fading into the distance. The apartment falls silent once more. Soon enough, the sun sets twice in a manner of seconds, and from that you know you're back in present time. {link to: 'front door', label: 'Back'}

As you bring the pocket watch closer to the door, its hands begin to spin backward, faster and faster, and the room shifts into a hazy blur for a moment or two. But then, as it stabilizes and you look around, not much seems to have changed. Suddenly, a firm knock echoes through the space from the door. *KNOCK.* *KNOCK.* You reckon someone wants to get inside, but once again, you find yourself unable to get closer to the door, [[let alone open it->Past front door occasion 2]].

"Miss Eleanor? I've got a parcel for you!" Ah, so it's a postman. Whatever he needs to deliver is probably too big to pass through the letter opening. You wonder what it could be. Or rather, what it could have been - time travel can easily get confusing. *KNOCK.* *KNOCK?* "Miss Eleanor? [[Are you home dear?->Past front door failure cutscene]]"

She cuts a modest slice, the buttery crumb and sugared glaze yielding to her fork. One slice becomes two, then three, until all decorum fades, and she abandons the fork entirely, pulling pieces apart with her fingers. She is eventually forced to also get rid of her skirt to make space for more. You see her leaning back in her couch and her glistening, frosting covered lips let out a moan of satisfaction. They then flicker clean. As time returns to normal, on the table is now a barren plate, [[thoroughly licked->sitting room]].

You nudge the quill and paper closer towards the crouched burglar, who remains blissfully unaware. The quill pauses a moment, glancing back and forth between you and the man, before finally steeling its nerves and getting closer to him. With a flourish, it writes a single, bold word on the paper: ~BOO~ The paper drifts down, hovering just behind the burglar. The quill, not content to let its work - a masterful one, you have to admit - go unnoticed, taps him firmly on the shoulder. [if random.coinFlip] The man startles, turning around with wide eyes to find himself face-to-face with a floating sheet of paper, bearing [[the most ominous of messages->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene 2a]]... [else] The man startles, turning around with wide eyes to find himself face-to-face with a floating sheet of paper, bearing [[the most ominous of messages->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene 2b]]...

pantryrobberboo: true -- The burglar squints at the paper, his face twisting in confusion. He reaches out, his hand swiping at the air above and below the paper, searching for the string holding it up. Of course, he finds nothing. "Hmph. Parlor tricks won't work on me..." he mutters under his breath, turning away and resuming his [[rummaging through the shelves->Past pantry robbery cutscene 3]].

pantryrobberboo: true pantryrobberdealtwith: true -- The burglar freezes, his face draining of color as his eyes are fixed onto the paper. “W-w-what...?!” he stammers, dropping his sack of stolen goods as cold sweat starts to run from under his hat, and his teeth start chattering away. He bolts for the door, leaving his sack of stolen goods behind in his panic. You watch as he scrambles out of the pantry, knocking over the crate’s lid on his way out, [[but he doesn't stop->Past pantry robbery boo cutscene 3]]

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 -- The quill and paper return to you. Likewise, the clock begins to return to its usual, haphazard ticking - with it, the space around you shifts back to the present time. [[The pantry is not looking the same as before, though.->Pantry (Not Robbed)]]

Slinging the sack over his shoulder, he darts through you and out of the pantry, leaving the shelves stripped bare and a broken crate in his wake. As time resumes its natural flow, the pantry returns to its present, desolate state. {link to: 'pantry', label: 'Back'}

pantryrobberdealtwith: true -- The dull-looking knife floats forward, its chipped blade glinting faintly in the pale light of the pantry. You will it closer to the burglar, who remains oblivious as he rummages through the shelves. With a sudden flick, the knife launches toward him, its hilt striking the side of his head with a loud *thunk*. The man yelps, clutching his head as he stumbles backward. His eyes dart wildly around the room, but there’s nothing for him to see - only the silent, empty pantry... and a floating knife. “W-w-what in the devil?!” he stammers, dropping his sack of stolen goods as he runs under the knife and scrambles out. The crate’s lid crashes to the ground as he trips over it in his haste, [[but he doesn't stop->Past pantry robbery dealt with cutscene 2]].

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 -- The knife hovers back to you, its blade dull but its purpose fulfilled. Likewise, the clock begins to return to its usual, haphazard ticking - with it, the space around you shifts back to the present time. [[The pantry is not looking the same as before, though.->Pantry (Not Robbed)]]

config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'IsPast Page Layout Logic'}" -- As you look at the pocket watch, the dim pantry fades away, replaced by a sharper, livelier scene from what you can assume was either yesterday, or the day before. The shelves are more crowded now - the small room could still house more, but you can at least spot a few jars of preserves, sacks of flour and sugar... a loud metallic noise breaks the silence, and you notice a figure crouched near the already opened crate in the corner. It's a man dressed in dark, threadbare clothing, hastily shoving a jar of jam into a burlap sack already bulging with stolen goods. [[A burglar!->Past pantry robbery occasion 2]]

His movements are hurried as he sweeps his hand across the shelf, sending a loaf of bread and a tin of biscuits into the sack. He glances over his shoulder nervously, his gaunt face illuminated briefly by a shaft of light from the door left ajar. [[With a saddened heart you do feel some of his hunger, too.->Past pantry robbery cutscene 3]]

successfuldelivery: true -- Floating toward the lock, the amorphous sphere of plaster presses itself against the keyhole, and, you assume, attempt to use it as a mold. For a moment it simply quivers left and right, but then it begins to harden. With a sharp click, the lock disengages, and the heavy oak door creaks open slightly. Beyond the door the postman, a diminutive looking man, stands with his parcel: a jam filled sponge cake, partially wrapped. His head tilts as he peers cautiously [[into the now-open entryway->Past plaster key delivery cutscene 2]].

"Uh... hello?" he calls out, stepping closer but finding no one there. He scratches his head and mutters, "Weird... door must’ve been left open. I’ll just leave this here." He bends down, carefully placing the cake just inside the threshold. Giving one last, hesitant glance around, he then shrugs and leaves the premises. The door swings shut behind him, the clot locking it back into place. It then goes back to your side, its key shape melting back into its usual formless state. [[Time, however, does not wind back to the present.->Past sponge cake cutscene 1]]

Against your will, you are tugged in closer to Eleanor and, specifically, to the watch she's wearing on her person. It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate, slightly tarnished chain curls from it, rounding over its owner chest. {link to: 'Past dining table occasion 2', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor returns to the kitchenette, and the rich, nutty aroma draws her toward the stove. Lifting the pan, she inspects the chestnuts with a raised brow. They are perfect -roasted to a warm, caramelized hue. With a smile, she plucks one from the pan and cracks it open, the steam curling gently into the air. She tastes it, her eyes widening slightly as the sweet, buttery flavor spreads across her tongue. Moments later, she’s seated in front of the fireplace, the pan before her and her hands brushing the bottom of it. She reclines against the cushions and rests a hand on the soft swell of her belly. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

roastedchestnuts: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 -- As you focus on the stove, the kitchenette dissolves and reforms around you, revealing a moment earlier in the previous day. The chestnuts sit atop the cast iron stove, their shells glossy and uncracked. A flicker of flame surges too high, and Eleanor, distracted by a sudden knock at the door, hurries away. The shells darken too quickly, the sweet, nutty aroma giving way to an acrid bitterness. What a shame. But you can help. This time, as the knock echoes, the pan slides gently to the edge of the burner, away from the flame’s reach. [[The chestnuts roast evenly->Past roasted chestnuts 2 cutscene]].

As she returns to the hallway, Eleanor's hand darts out - not toward the box itself, but to steady the stone bust underneath it. Her thumb leaves a flour-paste smudge on the carved cheekbone. "Mind your footing," she chides the sculpture. Oddly enough, the sculpture does not reply. In a matter of seconds, the sunlight fades back to your familiar twilight. {link to: 'sewing box', label: 'Back'}

sewingboxsolved: true -- The knife hovers closer to the sewing box, drawn to the task. Its chipped blade makes a soft contact with the tin. It then simply shifts forward an inch, sending the container at a falling angle. The sewing box lurches and hits the wooden floor with a *bang*, spilling shortbread and shortbread crumbs. A ginger biscuit ricochets off Eleanor's boot, who has returned to the hallway as she heard the noise. "Oh for heaven's " Her hands fly to her hips, apron billowing around the swell of her belly. She stares at the mess, then at the jewelry box and bust on the left, [[as if they'd conspired against her.->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene 1.5]]

Eleanor crouches, the motion pulling her skirt taut across her backside. "Waste not…" She brushes a biscuit against her apron's hem - less cleaning than redistributing crumbs. Three methodical bites. Four. By the fifth, she's sitting against the wooden cabinet, legs splayed around the biscuit debris. [[Her stomach presses a gentle curve against the apron's crosshatched fabric.->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene 2]]

Her methodical consumption becomes something hungrier. Crumbs catch in the apron's crosshatch weave as Eleanor plucks a ginger biscuit from between two floorboards. The waistband of her skirt disappears beneath the apron's cinched ties, fabric pulling diagonal across her hips. A shortbread shatters between her molars. She leans back with a thud that rattles the cabinet's decorative boxes, one hand absently massaging the curve beneath her [[apron.->Past sewing box dull knife cutscene 3]]

Having slowed down, she reaches for the last biscuits and realizes at the very last moment that there's a needle through it. She immediately gets as white as a ghost, and slowly puts the biscuit down to the side. Then time continues as normal. {link to: 'sewing box', label: 'Back'}

With the final biscuit taken care of, she rises from the floor, leaving a sugary handprint on the cabinet as she uses it for leverage. "Entirely... practical," she declares to the empty hallway, brushing debris onto the abandoned linseed oil rag. A few ginger crumbs cling stubbornly to her bodice's breast dart before she swats them away. Time snaps forward again. The sewing box is now empty, its latch hanging open. {link to: 'sewing box', label: 'Back'}

The watch's gears click. Morning sunlight floods the upper floor's hallway and its rooms, all of them open to the elements outside. Eleanor is here in an ink-stained apron, her sleeves rolled past elbows, smudged with chalk and ink. She's reorganizing the cabinet's top shelf, shifting tintypes and decorative boxes with the focus of a archivist. ...well, not a great archivist. Her hips brush the cabinet's edge as she stretches upward, apron ties cinching snug where her blouse strains at the shoulders. The wooden cabinet shudders as she moves into the bedroom - the [[sewing box->Past sewing box occasion 2]] is left on a precarious perch on top of the jewelry box and a stone bust.

Dust motes hang suspended in sunbeams as the [[box->Past sewing box cutscene haven't used an item]] teeters, its brass latch catching a stray ray of light from the bedroom's window. You catch a glimpse of Eleanor's braid as it catches on a splinter on one of the bed's poles, yanking her head sideways and prompting an appropriate curse. Below you, Eleanor's feather duster lies abandoned beside a rag smelling sharply of linseed oil.

GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 2 -- Hours later, as Eleanor returns from work - the weight of the day evident in the slouch of her posture -,her gaze finally falls upon the dessert. With a smile, she picks it up, carries it onto the low table of the sitting room, and removes its wrapping paper. As she does that she also takes a look at the note on top of the cake... her smile does falter a bit. It returns to what it was as she gets rid of it. You watch as she removes her yellow cravat, then blouse, then pulls at the laces of her corset. With a sigh of relief from Eleanor, the garment curves outward in an instant, then flops down onto the floor. In its place is now a shockingly large belly and its soft love handles by the side. [[Both have been marked red by the skirt's hem.->Past gift dessert cutscene 2]]

As it does so, a strange jolt runs through the pocket watch in your hand. The gears, which had been steadily turning back, shudder - then halt completely. The table, the plants, the soft twilight... it all lingers, waiting. You glance down at the watch. Its hands are still. You realize you are being given the chance to either [[return to the present time->terrace]] - wherein you get the feeling you may not be able to get back here - or instead [[go back to the very start of this meeting->terrace cutscene 1 - Past]].

winecrate: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 -- As you focus on the pocket watch, the quiet pantry moment shifts, and time slips backward, bringing you to an earlier scene. The shelves are once again fuller, and the bottles of wine are nestled carefully within the crate. Eleanor, a little fatigued and in her nightgown, enters the pantry. From the way she inspect around, one hand on her candle and the other on a small hangun, you can tell she's most likely making sure that no more burglars have broken in. For fun and to gage her reaction, you cross your hand through the wine bottles, [[making them rattle->Past wine cutscene 2.5]].

You watch her hands grip onto the lower shelf on which the middle of her ass is pressing onto, and makes it quiver. With a fair bit of struggle and pauses the velvet liquid inside of the bottle glugs through Eleanor's throat to settle into her stomach, making it swell obscenely from under the gown. In mere minutes, the container is emptied to the last drop. Only a thin rivulet has escaped her now red-stained lips. With *hic* and a few concerning steps, Eleanor wobbles next to the crate again and takes another bottle. You take a good look at her as she takes a sip of it too before she heads for the door out of the pantry, her giggling belly exiting a few fair inches before the rest of does. {link to: 'Pantry (Not Robbed)', label: 'Back'}

Their glass clinks together, just loud enough to catch her attention. She hesitates, nudging her weapon between her breasts. She reaches down, inspecting the dusty necks, her brow furrowed in curiosity. You see her as she uncorks one, taking a quick swig straight from the bottle. Without as much as a warning, she then proceeds to [[hold the bottle over her head->Past wine cutscene 2]].

NotesPlastered: true GluttonyCalEXP: GluttonyCalEXP + 1 HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 2 -- The arm melts onto the remaining notes, bursting into purple-tinged flames. As the fire consumes Eleanor's research, the plaster clot swells to twice its size - rippling with half-formed faces that push against its surface. *For a moment, you feel as though you recognize them.* You force yourself to look away. Eventually, the smoke clears, and you are relieved to see that only ash remains where the arm and the papers had been. The plaster sphere floats serenely once more, though its surface now bears faint indentations resembling tooth marks. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

WardrobeOpen: true -- The clot floats toward the padlock, pressing itself against the keyhole. For a moment, it quivers and shifts, seeming to explore the mechanism within. Then, with a satisfying click, the lock springs open. The wardrobe door swings open, revealing... a stack of [[chocolate bars]]. Their purple wrappers catch what little light filters through the window, creating the same glinting effect you saw earlier. No monsters nor creatures, just confectionery. {link to: 'padlocked wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

The clot of plaster hovers near the artwork, shifting and quivering as if studying the scene depicted within. {one of: ["For a moment, it begins to take the shape of one of the tribal women, but it swiftly looses interest and form.", "It attempts to mold itself into a jagged mountain peak, only to slump back into formlessness.", "For a moment the plaster attempts to shift into a feminine silhouette once more: this one is decidedly more well-endowed than any shown in the painting.", "The plaster forms into what might be a tribal hut, but the angles prove too complex, and it reverts to its natural state.", "For several long seconds, it once more manages to hold onto the shape of the woman from before: her ample form seemingly ready to burst from primitive clothing, stomach round and full, thighs pressing together. You see her waddle along, attempting, failing, to keep up with the other hunters. Part of the plaster divides in order to create a tree on which the girl can rest her arm and take a breather, but it's too much detail, too quickly. It ultimately proves too complex to maintain - the girl melts away."], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'painting', label: 'Back'}

BasinSinkPlugged: true -- The Clot of Plaster nears the dripping faucet, inspecting itself over the last remaining shiny spots. The material then shifts around the brass - soft and liquid at first, it then hardens rapidly, sealing the spout entirely. The steady dripping ceases, though you guess this will not last long: eventually, the water will surely melt through the material eventually. Still, an eary silence settles over the tiny room. {link to: 'basin sink', label: 'Back'}

The clot of plaster hovers near the seam of the stone box, quivering with intent and so, so happy to help you out. After a moment, it presses itself around the casket box, shifting and pressing as if searching for a lock to mold into. Nothing happens. With no keyhole or visible mechanism from the outside, the sad little amorphous sphere finds nothing to grasp. After another hesitant pulse, it simply pulls back, inert. {link to: 'casket box', label: 'Back'}

SittingroomDooropen: true -- Floating toward the lock, the amorphous sphere of plaster presses itself against the keyhole, and, you assume, attempt to use it as a mold. For a moment it simply quivers left and right, but then it begins to harden. With a sharp *thump*, the lock disengages, and door creaks open slightly. Though the symbols on the door to the right are still shining purple, you are now able to cross through the other, unmarked one. As you do so, you find yourself looking at a [[🛋️sitting room->sitting room]].

The clot of plaster hovers near the artwork, shifting and quivering as if studying the scene depicted within. {one of: ["It attempts to mold itself into a temple pillar. As the pillars are just tall rectangles, its impression is spot on.", "For a moment the plaster attempts to shift into a feminine silhouette: its dancing proves a little too fast.", "The plaster forms into what might be one of the far away houses. Or is that supposed to be a sheep?", "On its second try, it does in fact manages to hold onto the shape of a dancer: her form sways gently to the music, but your attention is drawn to her draped belly, who is swelling with every movement of the girl's generous flanks. Vague impressions of meats, fruits and drink are molded from her hands and quickly eaten away. It ultimately proves too complex of an act - the plaster trips and falls, quickly loosing its shape.", "It attempts to mold itself into a jagged mountain peak, only to slump back into formlessness."], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'landscape', label: 'Back'}

The amorphous plaster sphere is perfectly still above the scattered papers. Its surface shines back the purple light of the strange symbols. [if passage.visits == 1] [append] For a moment, it extrudes a clumsy replica of the V-marked blob shape before collapsing back into formlessness. The drawn symbol seems to pulse faintly in response. {link to: 'notes and sketches', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if passage.visits == 2] [append] Tendrils of plaster stretch out like probing fingers, tracing over Eleanor's 'pagan cult?' annotation. The handwritten question mark darkens to an ink blot as the plaster withdraws. *...you feel... awful.* {link to: 'notes and sketches', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if passage.visits == 3] [append] The clot splits into three smaller spheres - two small smooth orbs orbiting a larger one etched with crude V shapes. They rotate slowly above the desk before merging again with a wet *schlup*. *...something isn't right.* {link to: 'notes and sketches', label: 'Back'} [continue] [if passage.visits == 4] [append] A plaster hand erupts violently from the mass, slamming its palm against a sketch of the two-circle motif. The paper begins to yellow at the edges as the hand retracts and hovers over the sphere, leaving behind the word "HUNGER", written over and across multiple pages. You watch in horror as you catch its fingers methodically tracing a large "☋" over the sphere itself. From deep within the plaster comes an ominous [[***crack***->Plaster Note Cutscene Too Far]].

The clot quivers above the magazines, its surface rippling as it scans the open pages. {one of: ["It attempts to form the tribal hut from the archaeological sketch, but the roof sags into a doughy dome. Miniature plaster figures emerge, attempting to pat the rotund structure back into shape.", "It molds itself into a rotund fertility goddess figurine. The plaster attempts to replicate Eleanor's margin notes along the statue's thighs, but the text blurs as the figure's belly droops downward.", "The substance becomes a wobbly approximation of a pyramid, complete with tiny scaffolding.", "The clot inflates into an hourglass shape, attempting to recreate a fashionable silhouette from The Gentlewoman’s Journal. As it reaches vertically and strains the middle, you hear a snap. Its waist rapidly expands outwards, and eventually returns to a sphere.", "The clot becomes a relief carving of a banquet scene. Servants pour wine into a goblet held by a queen with a pair of circular glasses, and whose fattened belly spills over her throne's edges. As the plaster attempts to add hieratic script labeling the dishes, the queen's stomach ripples and absorbs the text."], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'periodicals', label: 'Back'}

You inspect the item closer. It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, curls from it. The latch clicks softly as you will it open, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. It flickers in and out of reality at random intervals, and its ticking grows more distinctly more frantic whenever it floats nearer. {one of: ["*The watch ticks faster as you inspect it.*", "*...It's gone? No, wait, here it is again.*", "*The chain sways gently, though there's no breeze to move it.*", "*For a moment, its ticking syncs - all of its hands flick at the same time, at the same speed. It eventually devolves back into chaos.*", "*The watch ticks slower as you inspect it.*", "*Its hands double, then triple, then quadruple, then merge into one, then disappear altogether.*", "*The object becomes gray for a short period of time.*", "*The watch ticks mediumly as you inspect it. Hardly a difference from a normal clock, this time around.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] "Mary," you begin, voice calm, diplomatic. "I wanted to speak with you about something more pressing. The funding for my - " "Oh, Eleanor," Mary interrupts with a breezy laugh, waving her hand. "You’re always so dreadfully serious! Must we talk business *now*? This visit was meant for pleasure, wasn’t it?" The words knot in your throat. Damn it, how does one even recover from that? Fine. Maybe you'll have a chance later. [[You blink once more, detaching yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] "Mary," you begin, voice calm, diplomatic. "I wanted to speak with you about something more pressing. The funding for my - " Mary tilts her head, expression polite but quizzical. "Oh? Yes, of course, in Brittany. Some... dig, was it? But you seem to be doing quite well for yourself back at the museum, darling. Why all the fuss?" [[You press on, hands folded neatly in your lap.->Poise Eleanor Past Terrace cutscene 2.5]]

"It's more than a personal project, Mary. This work could reshape how we understand the entire region's history. But I need support to -" "Of course, of course," she interrupts, nodding but clearly unengaged. "It's always like this with matters such as this, right? Ugh, what a bother..." [[Alright, you've had enough of this nonsense.->Poise Eleanor Past Terrace cutscene 3]]

You *slam* your hands onto the hem of the table. "Alright, I think we're done here. Out, now." Mary stares at you, seemingly in shock at your rapid change of demeanor. "Oh dear, is everything alright? Did I do -" You interrupt her by holding your hand up. "I've had enough of this. Our meeting is [[over->Poise Eleanor Past cutscene 3.5]]."

You watch as Mary rises from her seat gathering her things with brisk, concerned movements. "Well, this has been lovely, Eleanor..." she says with a warm smile, before turning around to catch you still looking at her. "I... I-I'm sorry if I did something to offend you, I'm... yes, quite sorry." With a sigh, you stand up and point to the door, which she heads for with a nod of understanding. [[You blink once more, detaching yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past terrace cutscene 2]]

PoiseTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace slows down, clearer. You draw in a steady breath. Controlled. Measured. You have to get back on track. You straighten in your seat, hands smoothing over your skirt with studied grace. Your focus narrows on Mary. You've just started, and already there's been enough distractions to fill a day's worth. [[Focus, *Eleanor*.->Poise Eleanor Past Terrace cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace slows down, clearer. You draw in a steady breath. Controlled. Measured. You have to get back on track. You straighten in your seat, hands smoothing over your skirt with studied grace. You've just started, and already there's been enough distractions to fill a day's worth. Mary will be back at any moment now. [[You blink once more, detaching yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace slows down, clearer. You draw in a steady breath. Controlled. Measured. You have to get back on track. That is all that matters now. You straighten in your seat, hands smoothing over your skirt with studied grace. Your focus narrows on Mary. This meeting has been a disaster, and you damn well know it. You've wasted more than enough time. [[Focus, *Eleanor*.->Poise Eleanor Past Terrace cutscene 2]]

The dull-looking knife rises away from you, its chipped blade hovering near the ceramic dishes. It trembles for a heartbeat, unsure of its next move, but yearning to do something, [[*anything*->Porcelain dishes destruction dull knife cutscene 2]]. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

DishesDestruction: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 3 -- With a sharp jerk, it tips forward, the blunt edge knocking into the nearest ancient plate. The dish teeters on its stand for a breath before toppling and shattering into jagged shards against the floor. The knife doesn't stop there. It twists, striking another plate, then another. A lot of white china crashes down in a cacophony of splintering porcelain, the delicate fragments scattering across the floorboards. The knife hovers still for a moment longer, then returns to a lifeless, neutral drift around you. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

You inspect the items closer. The quill and paper hover near you, the pen's nib constantly scratching against its companion in an endless stream of illegible text. The ink never seems to run dry, perpetually forming and fading away into meaningless scribbles. {one of: ["*The paper flutters as if caught in a breeze, though you feel no wind.*", "*Both items suddenly stop to spell out 'HELLO' before resuming their usual scrawling.*", "*The quill attempts to draw what might be a self-portrait. It fails miserably.*", "*The paper briefly arranges its scribbles into what looks like sheet music.*", "*The quill spins like a compass needle before pointing back to its companion.*", "*Both items suddenly stop to spell out 'WHAT? WHAT IS IT?' before resuming their usual scrawling.*", "*Both items suddenly stop to spell out 'JUST POINT US IN THE DIRECTION OF AN ARTEFACT, SPECTER' before resuming their usual scrawling.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] That little, simpleton laugh. Your teeth clench. *Stop.* *Talking.* Your leg jerks before you’ve even realized, a sharp kick connecting under the wood. There's a muffled thud and Mary gasps, her teacup clattering in its saucer as she winces, rubbing her shin. "E-Eleanor! What... what was that for?!" she stammers, blinking at you in [[disbelief->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3]]. [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace door opens. Mary steps back outside, a cheerful hum on her lips as she smooths her skirts. "Oh, you won't *believe* how hard it was to find your washroom, Eleanor -" She pauses. Only then do you realize how corrugated and fed up your expression must've gotten, not to mention how pale your knuckles, now that you look at them, are. "Everything alright, dear? Did... did I do something?" You force a smile, hands delicately folding in your lap. "No, no, just... the wind startled me, that's all. A breeze caught the tablecloth." [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] That little, simpleton laugh. Your teeth clench. *Stop.* *Talking.* Your leg jerks before you’ve even realized, a sharp kick connecting under the wood with something... soft? There's a muffled thud and Mary gasps, her teacup clattering in its saucer in surprise. "Oh! Eleanor be careful with your legs, I think your foot just hit my handbag." [[She says with a giggle->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 3b]].

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Oh. Oh no. You've done it now, haven't you? What's gotten into you, Eleanor? A beat. Then your voice, forced polite. "Ah, w-well... there was a bug! A big, buzzing... bumblebee. I'm so sorry, I should've been more careful!" Her lips part, some confused sound forming - but you're already pouring her another cup of tea, in an attempt to distract her. There doesn't seem to be a need to. "A *bee?!* Oh dear, did get it off?? I would *hate* to be stung!" "...Yes. Yes Mary, it flew away. You, um, must've missed it." [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

HandbagHit: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- [if pastterraceturn == 3] Oh dear, you got lucky there. What's gotten into you, Eleanor? A beat. Then your voice, forced polite. "Ah, I'm so, so sorry, Mary. I hope I haven't scraped it?" As she checks to the side of the table, you're already pouring her another cup of tea in an attempt to distract her. There doesn't seem to be a need to, though. "Oh no, don't worry! It just fell to the side, that's... um... *oh no*.... um, that's all. I got everything back in place! No need to help me. I mean it, no need to!" As she returns up, you catch a weird expression on her face. Is she blushing? What for? Maybe she's also in the habit of wearing her corset too tight. [[You blink once more, and detach yourself from Eleanor's mind.->Past Terrace (Turn system)]]

RageTerrace: true -- [if pastterraceturn == 1] The terrace sharpens - no, tightens, like a cord pulled taut, the edges of your vision blurring red at the corners. Mary's voice grates on your ears - her chatter is relentless. It's always like this with her. The way she smiles, how easily the words pour from her lips, so effortlessly. Meanwhile, you're stuck in this chair, corset biting into your ribs, ready to pass out at any moment. [[You breathe sharply through your nose as she laughs.->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 2] The terrace sharpens - no, tightens, like a cord pulled taut, the edges of your vision blurring red at the corners. Mary isn't here. She's off powdering her nose, leaving you alone with your own thoughts - no endless chatter, no grating laugh. That's nice. You feel blood rushing through your ears. Somehow, the silence *presses* onto you. Too quiet. Too still. And your skin prickles, the fabric of your dress rashes, your corset is too tight, your belly too fat for its own good, your chest needing air, your *lungs* needing actual air, and this damns chair is so, so uncomfortable... [[*You. Can't. Stand this.*->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]] [if pastterraceturn == 3] The terrace sharpens - no, tightens, like a cord pulled taut, the edges of your vision blurring red at the corners. Mary's voice grates on your ears - her chatter is relentless. It's always like this with her. The way she smiles, how easily the words pour from her lips, so effortlessly. Meanwhile, you're stuck in this chair, corset biting into your ribs, ready to pass out at any moment. [[You breath sharply through your nose as she laughs.->Rage Eleanor Past Terrace Cutscene 2]]

[[The introduction to her especially, she should be at her desk]]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] <export-link>Save</export-link> <import-link>Load</import-link> Remember to credit Maliface, add their Kofi and Itch.io page. {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Save Menu Logic'}

[JavaScript] ; { window.SaveSystem = { config: { fileName: null, extension: '.tw-save', encoded: true, version: null, metadata: null, engineUpdaters: [], gameUpdaters: [] }, getFileName(saveData) { switch (typeof this.config.fileName) { case 'string': return this.config.fileName; case 'function': return this.config.fileName.call(null, saveData); } const [m, date, hour] = new Date().toJSON().match(/(.+)T(.+)(?=\.)/); return engine.story.name() + '-save-' + date + '-' + hour; }, lastState: null, currentState: engine.state.saveToObject(), export() { const saveObject = { game: { ifid: engine.story.ifid(), version: this.config.version }, state: this.lastState ?? this.currentState ?? engine.state.saveToObject(), chapbook: { version: engine.version } }; saveObject.state.trail ??= []; saveObject.state.trail.push(engine.state.get('trail').at(-1)); if (typeof this.config.metadata === 'function') { saveObject.metadata = this.config.metadata.call(null, saveObject); } else if (this.config.metadata) { saveObject.metadata = this.config.metadata; } let json = JSON.stringify(saveObject); if (this.config.encoded) json = btoa(json.replace(/[^\x00-\x7F]/g, m => `u<(${m.codePointAt(0)}>`)); const url = URL.createObjectURL(new Blob([json], { type: 'text/plain' })), link = document.createElement('a'); link.href = url; link.download = this.getFileName() + this.config.extension; link.click(); requestAnimationFrame(() => URL.revokeObjectURL(url)); }, import() { const input = document.createElement('input'); input.type = 'file'; input.accept = this.extension; input.onchange = () => { const reader = new FileReader(); reader.onload = () => this.saveHandler(reader.result); reader.readAsText(input.files[0]); }; input.click(); }, saveHandler(json) { // we receive the FileReader's results if (json.trim()[0] !== '{') json = atob(json).replace(/u<(\d+)>/g, (m, n) => String.fromCodePoint(n)); let data; try { data = JSON.parse(json); } catch (e) { throw new Error(`Save file could not be parsed into a usable object, sorry.`); } const { game, state, chapbook } = data; if (!state) throw new Error(`Save file is lacking a state object, something went very wrong.`); if (game.ifid !== engine.story.ifid()) throw new Error(`Save file does not come from this game.`); if (chapbook.version !== engine.version && this.config.engineUpdaters?.length) { for (const cb of this.config.engineUpdaters) cb.call(null, data, chapbook.version, engine.version); } if (game.version !== this.config.version && this.config.gameUpdaters?.length) { for (const cb of this.config.gameUpdaters) cb.call(null, data, game.version, this.config.version); } try { engine.state.restoreFromObject(state); } catch (e) { throw new Error(`Chapbook was unable to restore the saved state, this is an internal error.`); } } }; engine.extend('2.0.0', () => { window.addEventListener('body-content-change', () => { SaveSystem.lastState = structuredClone(SaveSystem.currentState); SaveSystem.currentState = engine.state.saveToObject(); }); window.addEventListener('click', e => { const type = e.target.getAttribute('data-save'); if (type) { SaveSystem[type](); } }); engine.template.inserts.add({ match: /^load save/i, render(label) { return `<a class="link" tabindex="0" role="link" data-save="import">${label ?? 'Load from file'}</a>`; } }); engine.template.inserts.add({ match: /^save to file/i, render(label) { return `<a class="link" tabindex="0" role="link" data-save="export">${label ?? 'Save to file'}</a>`; } }); }); }; [continued]

config.body.transition.name: "crossfade" -- {embed passage: 'Text Manipulation Extension Logic'} {embed passage: 'Save System'} {embed passage: 'Inventory Scripts'}

The dull-looking knife floats toward the sewing box, its blade angling towards lid. It presses against its latch, attempting to force it open with a scrape. However, the knife's lack of sharpness becomes apparent as it struggles, the blade failing to gain enough leverage to truly unlock the box. Frustrated, it then proceeds to hit the tin. **THUNG** ...the box remains where it is, sitting perfectly in place. The knife’s efforts appear to have fallen short. {link to: 'sewing box', label: 'Back'}

SlobEndingTurns: SlobEndingTurns + 1 -- [if SlobEndingTurns < 5] You find yourself inside of the sitting room. You can see your [[vessel->vessel slob ending]] right on top of the low wooden table, standing near piles of [[empty dishes->empty dishes slob ending]] and [[scattered periodicals->scattered periodicals slob ending]]. Partially hidden under crumpled papers, you spot a [[letter->denial letter slob ending]]. Directly across from you, above the mantel of a modest marble [[fireplace->fireplace slob ending]], hangs a large, crooked [[painting->painting slob ending]], its frame covered in dust. To the left, crumbs and empty wrappers litter the floor around a heavily indented [[settee->settee slob ending]] facing the hearth. Along the far wall behind the settee stands a tall, almost empty [[bookshelf-> bookshelf slob ending]]. There's a pair of towering [[windows->windows slob ending]] to the left of it, draped with heavy curtains - beyond them, the evening sky darkens. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑dining room->unable to move away from the vessel cutscene]]. Behind you, the hallway leads back to the [[🚪entryway->unable to move away from the vessel cutscene]]. [if SlobEndingTurns == 5] Though faint, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from the dining room, and slowly heading towards you. You look in shock as a large, robed figure holding a platter crosses the threshold of the sitting room. [[Has someone broken in?->Sitting room slob ending Eleanor arrives cutscene]] [if SlobEndingTurns > 5] You find yourself inside of the sitting room. You can see your [[vessel->vessel slob ending]] right on top of the low wooden table, standing near piles of [[empty dishes->empty dishes slob ending]] and [[scattered periodicals->scattered periodicals slob ending]]. Partially hidden under crumpled papers, you spot a [[letter->denial letter slob ending]]. Directly across from you, above the mantel of a modest marble [[fireplace->fireplace slob ending]], hangs a large, crooked [[painting->painting slob ending]], its frame covered in dust. To the left, crumbs and empty wrappers litter the floor around a heavily indented [[settee->settee slob ending]] on which [[Eleanor->Eleanor Slob ending cutscene]] is sitting on. Along the far wall behind the settee stands a tall, almost empty [[bookshelf-> bookshelf slob ending]]. There's a pair of towering [[windows->windows slob ending]] to the left of it, draped with heavy curtains - beyond them, the evening sky darkens. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑dining room->unable to move away from the vessel cutscene]]. Behind you, the hallway leads back to the [[🚪entryway->unable to move away from the vessel cutscene]].

The figures moves with a cautios pace. As she falls down onto the settee, breathing heavily and with one hand over her broad gut, you finally recognize her. [[Eleanor.->Sitting room slob ending]]

config.style.page.color: "#2d1a00 on #fff5e6" config.style.page.link.color: "#cc6600" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#b35500" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #cc6600" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#e67300" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#d97300" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#bf6600" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #cc6600" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#e67300" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #cc6600" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffcc99 on #1a0f00" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff9933" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e6821a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#1a0f00 on #ff9933" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffb366" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff9933" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e6821a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#1a0f00 on #ff9933" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffb366" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#1a0f00 on #ff9933" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">1.2</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Gluttony Above All Else</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'echoes'}

[javascript] /** * getTags(name) - Passage tags retrieval function. * * @param {string} name - Passage name. * @returns {Array<string>} Passage tags. * @throws {Error} Passage must exist. */ function getTags(name) { const passage = engine.story.passageNamed(name); if (!passage) { throw new Error(`There is no passage named "${name}".`); } return passage.tags; } [continue]

[if Eleanorhandbag == false; if HandbagHit == false] A small table covered in a lenghty checkered tablecloth rests near the edge of the terrace - a [[handbag->handbag picking up cutscene]] seems to have been left there. [if Eleanorhandbag == false; if HandbagHit == true] A small [[table->table (panty inspection)]] covered in a lenghty checkered tablecloth rests near the edge of the terrace - a [[handbag->handbag picking up cutscene]] seems to have been left there. [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if HandbagHit == false] A small table covered in a lenghty checkered tablecloth rests near the edge of the terrace. [if Eleanorhandbag == true; if HandbagHit == true] A small [[table->table (panty inspection)]] covered in a lenghty checkered tablecloth rests near the edge of the terrace.

[Javascript] engine.state.set('__collected', ''); engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.modifiers.add({ name: "collect", syntax: "[collect], [collect new], [collect no-space], [collect new-paragraph]", description: "Collect the text in the modifier for later display.", completions: ["collect", "collect new", "collect no-space", "collect new-paragraph"], match: /^collect\b/i, process(output, {state, invocation}) { const modifier = invocation?.slice(7).trimStart().replace(/\s.*/, '').toLowerCase() || ''; if (config.testing && !(modifier === '' || modifier === 'new' || modifier === 'no-space' || modifier === 'new-paragraph')) { console.warn( `"collect" modifier can only be [collect], [collect new], [collect no-space], or [collect new-paragraph], but was called as [${invocation}]` ); } // Only perform collection if there's any text. That // prevents weirdness from an [if ...; collect] block. if (output.text != '') { if (modifier === 'new') { __collected = ''; } else { __collected = __collected.trimEnd(); if (modifier === 'new-paragraph') { __collected += '\n\n'; } else if (modifier !== 'no-space' && __collected !== '') { __collected += ' '; } } __collected += output.text.trimStart(); output.text = ''; } } }); }); [continued] [Javascript] engine.extend('2.1.0', () => { engine.template.inserts.add({ name: "show collected", syntax: "{show collected}", description: "Show all text collected in previous [collect] modifiers.", completions: ["show collected"], match: /^show\s+collected/i, render: (first_arg, props, invocation) => { if (typeof(__collected) === undefined) { if (config.testing) { throw new Error('{show collected} called before any text was collected'); } } const output = __collected; if (!props['keep']) { __collected = ''; } return output; } }) });

{embed passage: 'Capitalization Insert'} {embed passage: 'Text Collection Modifier and Insert'} {embed passage: 'Conditional Insert'} {embed passage: 'One Of and First Time Inserts and Modifiers'}

config.footer.center: "{load save: 'Load'} | [[About]] | [[Settings]]" calories: 0 strength: 0 config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "amber-2 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "amber-2" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-1 on aquamarine-3" isCutscene: false -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] <link rel="stylesheet" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Bona+Nova:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"> [CSS] .titleScreen h1 { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; margin: 0 auto; max-width: 80%; } .titleScreen h1 span { display: block; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 1.1; letter-spacing: 0.03em; } /* Very Big - Title */ .very-big { font-size: 56px; margin-bottom: 0.15em !important; letter-spacing: 0.05em; } /* A Curious Account - pull up */ .very-big + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: -0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* of Apparitions... - keep tight */ .medium + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-bottom: 0.05em; line-height: 1.3; letter-spacing: 0.02em; } /* by One - push down */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: 0.4em; margin-bottom: 0.15em; } /* Eleanor Lovelace - reduce space above */ .medium + .big { font-size: 48px; margin-top: -0.15em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* Museeum Assistant - pull up */ .big + .medium-small { font-size: 30px; margin-top: -0.2em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* as Observed Through - normal */ .medium-small + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-top: 0.3em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* Strange Shadows - push down */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* "and" connector - special case */ .medium + .small { font-size: 20px; margin-top: -0.15em; margin-bottom: 0.05em; } /* Fading Echoes - pull up */ .small + .medium { font-size: 36px; margin-top: -0.1em; margin-bottom: 0.1em; } /* Link preservation */ a[href="Debug Activation"] { font-variant: small-caps !important; vertical-align: baseline; letter-spacing: 0.02em; text-decoration: none; } /* Last element spacing */ .titleScreen h1 span:last-child { margin-bottom: 1em !important; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-big">The Spirit of Hunger</span> <span class="medium">A Curious Account</span> <span class="small">of Apparitions, [[Artefacts->Debug Activation]], and the Pursuit of Meaning</span> <span class="medium">by One</span> <span class="big">Eleanor Lovelace,</span> <span class="medium-small">Museeum Assistant, Glutton, and Seeker,</span> <span class="small">as Observed Through</span> <span class="medium">Strange Shadows</span> <span class="small">and</span> <span class="medium">Fading Echoes of Time</span> </h1> </center> [continued] [align center] [[~Start~->Chapter Select]] [continued] <br><br> </div> {ascii backdrop, clickable: 'false', opacity: '0.2'}

stuffedstate (calories <= 1000): 'EMPTY' stuffedstate (calories > 718 && calories <= 2146): 'BLOATED' stuffedstate (calories > 2146 && calories <= 8608): 'FULL' stuffedstate (calories > 8608 && calories <= 11500): 'STUFFED' stuffedstate (calories > 11500): 'OVERSTUFFED' -- [[test]] [if stuffedstate == 'EMPTY'] Empty. [continue] [if stuffedstate == 'BLOATED'] Bloated. [continue] [if stuffedstate == 'FULL'] Full. [continue] [if stuffedstate == 'STUFFED'] Stuffed. [continue] [if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] Overstuffed. [continue]

calories: 0 -- [[start->Untitled Passage]]

{reveal link: 'label', passage: 'passage name'} {reveal link: 'label', text: 'revealed text'} {embed passage named: 'passage name'} abbreviated: {embed passage: 'passage name'} Renders the passage named in the insert. This executes any vars section in that passage. passage.name The name of the current passage as set in the Twine editor. 'Untitled Passage' {passage.name} passage.visits The number of times the player has seen the current passage, including the current time. That is, the first time the player sees a passage, this lookup's value is 1. 1

[unless passage.name == 'Inventory';unless passage.name == 'Bathtub cutscene 1';unless passage.name == 'Bathtub cutscene 2'] {link to: 'Inventory', label: 'Inventory'

[JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function (){ if (trail.length>0){ if (engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length-1]).tags.includes("Cutscene")){ return true; }else{ return false; } } else { return undefined; } }; [continued] THIS ONE [JavaScript] comesFromCutscene = function () { if (passage.name.toLowerCase().includes("cutscene")) { return true; } else { return false; } }; [continued]

[continue] THIS IS HOW YOU USE THEM IF YOU WANT TO USE THE CONDITIONAL INSERTS {if test12: 'It\'s a beautiful day!'} {if test2: 'It\'s a beautiful day!'} {if test3: "test3", else: 'It\'s a beautiful day!</br>"She said this!"'}

TapeGreenSkirtFitted: true TapeWaistcoatUnFitted: true TapeDressFitted: true TapeBlouseFitted: true TapeSkirtFitted: true TapeUndergarmentsFitted: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

TapeGreenSkirtFitted: true TapeBlouseFitted: true TapeSkirtFitted: true TapeUndergarmentsFitted: true -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

TapeWaistcoatUnFitted: true TapeDressFitted: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 2 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Screen', label: 'Back'}

For transparency’s sake, I do want to make clear that I did employ the use of Large Language Models (AIs), to get some help with coding, and for gathering some knowledge on late Victorian times. I did *not* use it to make my text feel more Victorian or anything like that - that I tried, and it only made things look and feel very, very repetitive and overall bloated. *But!* I did experiment with having some passages be written by the computer. Fear not, it almost always had to be either scrapped, as the AI did not understand the deeper context and underlying story, or be re-written. Truthfully, some of that experimentation did lead to some interesting ideas and descriptions of things, and so was added to the game - once more though, it always went through a lot of changes by my hand, and in almost all cases it scarcely resembled the original generated text. *I will **never** employ the use of generated images in any of my works.* {link to: 'About', label: 'Back'

An off-white apron, hanging neatly from a hook on the wall, its fabric faded and bearing faint streaks of plaster dust along the hem. Its only front pocket is empty, save for a lone stick of chalk, worn down to a stub. [if ApronSeen == true] *It must be the very same one you saw Eleanor use, though now ground nearly to its end. It's unlikely you'll find much use for it.* [continued] {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

The arrowheads rest neatly in a small wooden tray, their edges chipped but still sharp enough to make you cautious. Though, as you think it through, why would you need to be? Just because you can, you run your hands through all of them. They vary in size and design, some are triangular, others barbed... all bear a telltale patina of age. A handwritten [[note->note arrowheads]] is tucked beneath the largest one. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

"Unearthed Relics: Evidence of an Uncharted Tribe in the Brittany Region.” There are no sketches to accompany the text. Following a thorough reassessment of some Britannic museum's artifacts, the author speculates on a tribe's existence, their customs, and possible links to the early Celtic people. Several passages are underlined in - and smudged by - red ink, accompanied by notes - Eleanor appears unconvinced by the author's conclusions. Too cautious, in her opinion. At the bottom of the page, the byline and the author's name has been angrily crossed out. In its place, the word "NEPOTIST" has been penned in. {link to: 'periodicals', label: 'Back'}

You float into the attic. Dim and cramped, the space is crowded with old trunks, a battered [[steamer chest]], and stacks of [[yellowed newspapers]]. [if WardrobeFallen == false] A single wooden chair, its cane seat slightly sagging, rests beneath the lone, dust-veiled window. Cobwebs gather in the rafters, yet a clear path cuts through the dust toward a heavy, padlocked [[wardrobe->padlocked wardrobe]] near the back wall. The floorboards are not looking great, as several have been removed. One of them gives view of a hole into the bedroom, directly over Eleanor. [if WardrobeFallen == true] A single wooden chair, its cane seat slightly sagging, rests beneath the lone, dust-veiled window. Cobwebs gather in the rafters. Near the back wall and onto the floor lies the [[wardrobe->padlocked wardrobe]], face down. [continued] *You can spot a couple of footprints going towards and from the wardrobe - someone has recently been here.* [if EleanorChocolate == false; if EleanorChocolateCutscene == false] Right under you is the closed trapdoor and way back to Eleanor's [[bedroom->bedroom]]. [if EleanorChocolate == true; if EleanorChocolateCutscene == false] Right under you is the closed trapdoor and way back to Eleanor's [[bedroom->Eleanor Chocolate cutscene]]. [if EleanorChocolate == true; if EleanorChocolateCutscene == true] Right under you is the closed trapdoor and way back to Eleanor's [[bedroom->bedroom]].

AtticRevealed: true -- *You see through the reflection of the mirror onto the silver bowl, and find yourself able to see the bedroom... but not Eleanor within it.* The angle is different - distorted and onto the floor, as if you were a child looking up at the ceiling. You spot something odd: there's a trapdoor there, to the left of the bed. It's fairly high-up and closed, with no apparent string attached to it, but does that even matter? It should be fairly trivial for a ghost like you to simply float and faze through it. {link to: 'silver bowl', label: 'Back'}

[if BasinSinkPlugged == false] The ceramic basin sink is large and utilitarian, its surface dulled from years of use. A steady drip falls from the tarnished brass faucet, echoing faintly against the basin’s curve. Water stains trace pale rings along the bottom, and a damp streak clings to the drain, though the pipework seems intact and the wall it sits on free of mold spots. [if BasinSinkPlugged == true] The ceramic basin sink is large and utilitarian, its surface dulled from years of use. Water stains trace pale rings along the bottom, and a damp streak clings to the drain, though the pipework seems intact and the wall it sits on free of mold spots. Where there once was a steady drip falling from its brass faucet, your momentary "fix" has made it so the room is now completely silent. [continued] {link to: 'scullery', label: 'Back'}

You hover toward the cast iron bathtub, its clawed feet gripping the tiled floor. The surface of the tub is dulled, the enamel showing faint scratches and marks. There's a faint scent of lavender and soap - someone must've recently used it. A small bar of lavender-scented soap rests on the rim of the tub. The plug dangles just above the drain, attached to a tarnished brass chain. Some water can be seen at the very bottom, pooled in the curve of the tub. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

You hover over the high-collared, blouse, its white fabric soft yet slightly strained across the midsection and its buttons. Still, it's a well-made garment: fine lace trim at the cuffs and collar. Tasteful. There are a few faint marks on it - a green ink stain on one of the wrist's hems, a bit of gray dust near the bottom, and a few sugary crumbs near the top. {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The blouses are neatly stacked, their fabric soft and well-maintained. Their colors are muted, mostly pastel shades - you feel a vague sense of orderliness to them. No evident signs of heavy use, so you can't tell if they’ve been a part of Eleanor’s regular rotation or not. What you can tell is that they fit a very small and defined bust, surely smaller than Eleanor's. {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

The bones lie in a haphazard bundle on the shelf, their off-white surfaces dull and slightly porous. Most are small and likely from an animal, though one of the bones suggests something larger. You're no expert, but it looks like a femur. Their arrangement feels less like a display and more like a convenient dumping ground. A brittle tag dangles from one of the tibias, held on by a frayed string, but it appears to be blank. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

The shelves of this tall bookshelf are packed tightly with volumes of varying sizes, their spines bearing embossed titles in faded gold leaf. Tomes such as “A Compendium of Flora Britannica,” “Relics of the Pharaohs,” and “The Prehistoric Life of the Isles” catch your attention. Between them, a few handwritten notes and pressed flowers peek out. A small bronze [[figurine]] rests on a lower shelf. [if Dulllookingknife == false] [append] Nearby, a carved [[knife]] sits in a velvet-lined box [if Dulllookingknife == true] [append] Nearby is an empty velvet-lined box [if clayvesseltaken == false] [append] ,close to a delicate [[clay vessel]] no larger than your palm. [if clayvesseltaken == true] [append] . [continued] {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] The box of sweets sits neatly on the table, its twine carefully untied and set aside. The lid is slightly ajar, revealing a varied selection of small, bite sized pastries nestled in parchment. Some are dusted with powdered sugar, while others have a glossy sheen of fruit preserves. From the way Mary keeps gesturing toward them between sips of tea, it seems she's waiting for Eleanor to finally help herself. [if pastterraceturn == 2] [if pastterraceturn == 2; unless boxofsweetseaten] The box of sweets sits neatly on the table, its twine carefully untied and set aside. The lid is slightly ajar, revealing a varied selection of small, bite sized pastries nestled in parchment. Some are dusted with powdered sugar, while others have a glossy sheen of fruit preserves. Though attempting to distract herself from them, Eleanor can't bring her eyes to lay on anything other than the sweets in front of her. A somewhat noticeable rumble coming from her belly confirms your suspicions. [if pastterraceturn == 2; if boxofsweetseaten] The box of sweets now sits conspicuously empty, its parchment liner crumpled and smudged with faint traces of sugar and jam. The lid lies discarded beside it, and only a fair amount of crumbs remains of the pastries once nestled inside. Eleanor pointedly is still looking at it, as if attempting to see if there are any inside she might've missed. [if pastterraceturn == 3] [if pastterraceturn == 3; unless boxofsweetseaten] The box of sweets sits neatly on the table, its twine carefully untied and set aside. The lid is slightly ajar, revealing a varied selection of small, bite sized pastries nestled in parchment. Some are dusted with powdered sugar, while others have a glossy sheen of fruit preserves. Though attempting to distract herself from them, Eleanor can't bring her eyes to lay on anything other than the sweets in front of her. A somewhat noticeable rumble coming from her belly confirms your suspicions. [if pastterraceturn == 3; if boxofsweetseaten] The box of sweets now sits conspicuously empty, its parchment liner crumpled and smudged with faint traces of sugar and jam. The lid lies discarded beside it, and only a fair amount of crumbs remains of the pastries once nestled inside. Mary’s gaze lingers on the box, while Eleanor pointedly avoids looking at it, her fingers fidgeting with the rim of her teacup. She speaks up. "Well, Mary... they were really good, I can assure you of that." [continued] {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

The brass astrolabe rests on a velvet-lined stand, its interlocking rings tarnished with age but still cared for. Delicate engravings of celestial patterns and measurements cover its surface, though despite all of this craftsmanship, you can't help but notice a faint dent along the outer ring, as if it had once endured a careless drop. It seems to have settled into its new role as a decorative curiosity rather than a tool for navigation. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

The clock’s face is framed by intricate scrollwork, and the Roman numerals etched upon it are slightly worn, though still legible. The hands move steadily, each tick a soft echo in the quiet room. A small keyhole at the back suggests it requires manual winding. [if passage.visits > 1] *As you continue looking at its hands, you notice that, after exactly fifteen seconds, they both flick back to the twelth hour.* [continue] {link to: 'fireplace', label: 'Back'}

Figurine1: true -- Nearing the figurine, the quill stops for a moment, then quickly writes something down. As the ink settles, the paper detaches from it and drifts between you and the object. It appears they have attempted a rough translation of the text at the base. ~PRAY FOR ABUNDANCE TWICE~ The quill hovers briefly and proudly taps down twice onto the paper. {link to: 'figurine', label: 'Back'}

[if BreadPrayer == false] The wicker bread basket sits empty on the scullery floor. Its weave is slightly uneven, with a few stray fibers sticking out along the rim. There are just enough subtle variations in it to suggest it may have been handmade. Though bare, a faint dusting of flour clings to the bottom, as if it has only recently been emptied. [if BreadPrayer == true] The wicker bread basket sits on the scullery floor, now filled with five golden loaves. Their crusts are perfectly formed, still warm enough to release wisps of steam into the cool air. A light dusting of flour covers their rounded tops. [continued] {link to: 'scullery', label: 'Back'} [note] Have it so it can be filled by doing that prayer, initiated by knowing all of the statuettes messages, and having seen the ideogram for "plenty" by interacting with something that has it written on it. Returning here after that allows the player to use the book and quill to write a "prayer": PLENTY, now. PLENTY, please? It needs to do it twice, and with the faucet having been stopped. If the faucet is not stopped, it needs to be stopped and then will the bread appear. [continued]

The butter dish seems to be made of silver - a very expensive piece, it shouldn't be kept so hidden away from view. The scent of the rich, creamy butter beneath teases the air, though it’s barely perceptible. The lid is slightly askew. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

You float closer to the butter dish now resting on the counter. The butter is obviously gone, only a few lingering streaks remain, smeared across the bottom of the dish. The lid has been placed to the side, and a few of Eleanor's buttery fingerprints are visible along the edge. You still cannot wrap your head about the fact it took so little for this indulgence to happen. She is even more ravenous than you had initially anticipated. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

The narrow cabinet stands tall beside the washstand, its glass-fronted doors revealing a tidy arrangement of jars and tins. You will its wooden doors open, revealing an assortment of glass jars and tins. The jars are filled with various soaps, salves, and powders, each labeled with delicate script. Some have faded, their ink either smudged by the room's humidity or simply worn away. A few bottles are corked with wax seals, while some are topped with small metal lids - one in particular, composed of green glass, has been left open in front of all others, though it appears to be empty. It's label has also been worn away. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'} [note] Among them, a very ornate tin of rosewater]] catches your attention. [continued]

[unless candleholder] The candleholder, a brass piece with a single curved arm, sits near the center of the table. Melted wax clings stubbornly to its base, a pale puddle solidified around the stub of a candle long since burned out. The wick is little more than a blackened thread, curled inward. It gives the impression of being used more out of habit than necessity. [if candleholder] The brass candleholder remains where you last saw it, but now its candle stands whole and untouched. Its pale ivory wax is pristine, with a slightly uneven surface suggesting it was hand-poured. The wick is blackened at the tip, though of course it would still be capable of being lit. [continued] {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

[if CasketBoxOpen == false] The pale stone box sits heavily atop the cabinet, its surface smooth but for a few faint scratches along the edges. The lid fits seamlessly, with no visible hinges or locks - only a slight groove where the two halves meet. To be fair, without the strength to try and open it, you don't even know if it's actually locked or not. You drift forward, pressing your vision through the stone, but the darkness within swallows most detail. Only a vague, rounded shape emerges in the void, its off-white surface catching a faint trace of light. [if CasketBoxOpen == true; if SkullTaken == false] The pale stone box sits heavily atop the cabinet, its surface smooth but for a few faint scratches along the edges. Its spring-loaded lid is now to the other side of its lower compartment, allowing you to view its only content: a human [[skull]], resting at an odd angle. [if CasketBoxOpen == true; if SkullTaken == true] The pale stone box sits heavily atop the cabinet, its surface smooth but for a few faint scratches along the edges. Its spring-loaded lid is now to the other side of its lower compartment, allowing you observe the vacant, open middle of the box. Only a faint amount of pale, off-white dust and small bone fragments remains. [continue] {link to: 'decorative boxes', label: 'Back'}

teacupattempt: true -- As you focus on the pocket watch, the dim kitchenette fades, and time rewinds to an earlier moment. The chipped blue teacup sits, whole, unblemished, on the middle shelf. A faint hum of activity can be heard from another room as Eleanor moves about her day. Then, the cupboard door swings open abruptly. Eleanor’s hand reaches in, brushing the cup as she grabs for a tin of tea. The teacup wobbles dangerously, tipping toward the edge. You try to steady it, willing it to [[remain upright...->Past chipped teacup attempt cutscene 2]]

[if teacupfixed == false] The teacup, though charming in its deep blue glaze, bears a large crack running from its rim to the base. Floating through the cupboard and to the other side of the object, you notice a small, jagged gap where a piece has broken off entirely - enough, you reckon, to let water escape if poured inside. At the very least its matching saucer remains intact, save for a faint nail scratch across its surface. [if teacupfixed == true] The blue glazed teacup now bears a faintly matte patch where the jagged gap once was. The repair is smooth and sturdy, and although it stands out slightly, you reckon it's an improvement. The teacup sits proudly on its matching saucer. [continued] {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

teacupfixed: true HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP + 1 -- The clot of plaster floats forward, its surface shifting and rippling like liquid stone. You guide it carefully toward the jagged gap in the teacup’s base, where before it makes contact, it jets out a smaller driplet from its mass. The drip stretches and molds itself, filling the broken section seamlessly. Within moments, the clot solidifies, forming a smooth, matte patch that contrasts slightly with the cup’s glossy blue glaze. You don't really have any water with you, but you're fairly confident the object would now hold it steady. Hurray! {link to: 'chipped blue teacup', label: 'Back'}

At least two dozen chocolate bars sit stacked within the wardrobe, their purple Cadbury wrappers neatly arranged. Most appear to be their "milk chocolate" variety, though a few dark chocolate ones are mixed in. By the dust gathered on the lowest bars, you reckon Eleanor has been steadily adding to this hoard for some time. *...and this is a problem. How are you going to get her to eat them?* {link to: 'padlocked wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

It's a delicate looking clay vessel, its surface rough and unglazed, with faint traces of a surprisingly violet pigment clinging to the grooves. It's hardly larger than your palm, and is composed of a narrow neck and a slightly flared rim. Faint scratches and nicks mar its surface, suggesting it has survived a fair bit of turmoil. At the base, a small handwritten [[note]] has been affixed. {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

You drift toward the commode. It makes use of a brass cistern on top, and a pull chain currently swaying gently in the air. The porcelain bowl is spotless. ...there really isn't anything you can think of doing with it at the moment. You definitely lack the ability, and need, to make use of it. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

As you approach the imposing control panel, you catch an engraved label right over it: [align center] ~CONTROL THY SELF~ [continued] Right in the middle of it, surrounded by a myriad other small levers and buttons, are six main commands: [if GluttonyTerrace] ➼A copper dial already set to the max, slightly greasy to the touch. [unless GluttonyTerrace] ➼[[A copper dial->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], slightly greasy to the touch. [if RageTerrace] ➼A scarlet lever set to the top, its handle worn from frequent use. [unless RageTerrace] ➼[[A scarlet lever->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], its handle worn from frequent use. [if PoiseTerrace] ➼An ivory switch, set delicately at its midpoint. [unless PoiseTerrace] ➼[[An ivory switch->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], already clicked. [if DoubtTerrace] ➼A trembling chain yanked forward. [unless DoubtTerrace] ➼[[A trembling chain->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], rattling as if a strong current was crossing through it. [if CuriosityTerrace] ➼A small brass key, set in its lock. [unless CuriosityTerrace] ➼[[A small brass key->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], half-turned in its lock. [if LongingTerrace] ➼A velvet-covered button, pulsing vigorously. [unless LongingTerrace] ➼[[A velvet-covered button->Lever Selected Logic Cutscene], gently pulsing. {link to: 'Eleanor Control', label: 'Back'

correctartefact: correctartefact + 1 arrowheadstaken: true HelpfulnessEXP (correctartefact == 3): HelpfulnessEXP + 3 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer to the arrowheads, expecting it to swallow them eagerly. And so it does, going over all of them in one swift motion. The bag closes gently, its handkerchief fluttering. [if correctartefact < 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasp slightly ajar - ready for the next item. [if correctartefact == 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasps shut. You can tell by sight alone that the handbag is now heavier, more purposeful - its task is complete. [continued] {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

correctartefact: correctartefact + 1 clayvesseltaken: true HelpfulnessEXP (correctartefact == 3): HelpfulnessEXP + 3 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer to the clay vessel, expecting it to swallow the artifact eagerly. And so it does, in one swift motion. The bag closes gently, its handkerchief fluttering. [if correctartefact < 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasp slightly ajar - ready for the next item. [if correctartefact == 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasps shut. You can tell by sight alone that the handbag now feels heavier, more purposeful - its task is complete. [continued] {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

correctartefact: correctartefact + 1 SkullTaken: true HelpfulnessEXP (correctartefact == 3): HelpfulnessEXP + 3 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer to the skull, expecting it to swallow the remains eagerly. And so it does, in one swift motion. The bag closes gently, its handkerchief fluttering. [if correctartefact < 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasp slightly ajar - ready for the next item. [if correctartefact == 3] [append] It then returns to your side, its clasps shut. You can tell by sight alone that the handbag is now heavier, more purposeful - its task is complete. [continued] {link to: 'casket box', label: 'Back'}

Hovering closer, you examine the corset. The fabric is a deep burgundy satin, overlaid with delicate black lace. The steel boning is firm, though you notice a faint curve to the structure, as if it has been tested against an increasingly rotund figure. The laces are slightly frayed near the tips, likely from being tugged and retied day after day. A few threads have begun to loosen near the seams, especially along the sides. The faintest trace of lavender body-oil lingers in the fabric, mingling with a hint of perspiration: you reckon it has recently been worn, and not for a small amount of time either. {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The opened crate sits slightly askew on the floor, its edges scuffed from frequent handling. Peering inside, you see a few bottles of wine nestled between torn straw packing. The glass is cloudy, and some bottles show signs of age with faint dustings of mildew on their necks. A few corks have begun to rot, but they are still tightly in place. {link to: 'Pantry (Not Robbed)', label: 'Back'}

The vibrant yellow hue of the cravat draws your eye. It's a cheerful contrast to the otherwise subdued attire. Finely woven, smooth to the touch, a simple accent piece really. It's clearly been worn a lot: there's a faint crease running lengthwise from repeated tying. It's spotless, and you reckon it was the first thing that its owner removed once she came back home from work - as one ought to. {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The cupboard doors swing open to reveal neatly arranged shelves, stocked with a collection of mismatched crockery. Tea tins, their labels faded but legible, sit in a tidy row. A few small jars, half-filled with dried herbs and spices, are tucked to one side. A [[butter dish]] rests on the middle shelf. [if teacupfixed == false] [append] A [[chipped blue teacup]], inverted on its saucer, sits nearby. [if teacupfixed == true] [append] A [[blue teacup->chipped blue teacup]], sat on its saucer, sits nearby. [continued] {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

pocketwatch: true strength (comesFromMenu() != true): strength+ 1 PocketwatchHad: true -- [if EleanorBreakfast == false] You inspect closer. It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, curls from it. The latch clicks softly as you will it open, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. The rhythmic ticking grows more frantic as you take hold of the watch. *You feel a faint tug as you claim the object - it now floats around you, intermittently flickering in and out of reality.* {link to: 'entryway', label: 'Back'} [if EleanorBreakfast == true] You inspect closer. It's the same pocket watch as before, with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, curls from it. The latch clicks softly as you will it open, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. The rhythmic ticking grows more frantic as you, once more, take hold of the watch. *You feel a faint tug as you claim the object - it floats around you, intermittently flickering in and out of reality.* {link to: 'dining table', label: 'Back'}

A selection of decorative boxes sit neatly atop the cabinet, varying in size and material. One, a [[jewelry box]], is lacquered black with delicate mother-of-pearl inlays forming a crescent moon. Another, smaller and simpler, is made of unvarnished wood with a small brass latch - you reckon its a [[sewing box]]. A third is much bigger than the two and carved from pale stone. Is it a [[casket box]]? You have no way of knowing, as it appears to be locked. Most of the others seem purely ornamental. {link to: 'upper floor', label: 'Back'}

The letter lies partially hidden beneath scattered the periodicals, its cream-colored paper bearing an official letterhead. You're only able to read a fragment of it: <blockquote>"...regret to inform you that the Museum Board has unanimously decided to deny the request for funding. Furthermore, concerns about the applicant's recent conduct and reliability have left the board no choice but to also terminate her position, effective immediately. We expect all artifacts in your possession to be returned within..."</blockquote> The rest of the letter disappears beneath a dining plate. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

You hover into the dining room. A long rectangular [[dining table]] [if EleanorBreakfast == false] [append] , still busy with the remains of a morning's breakfast, [continue] [append] sits at the room's center, accompanied by four mismatched wooden chairs. A folded linen runner lies down the middle of it [if EleanorBreakfast == true] [append] , lightly dusted with crumbs. [if EleanorBreakfast == false] [append] . [continued] [if DishesDestruction == false] Against the wall, a dark oak sideboard holds a small collection of [[porcelain dishes]], a [[glass decanter]], and a pair of unused wine glasses. [if DishesDestruction == true] Against the wall, a dark oak sideboard holds a now smaller collection of porcelain dishes - most of them are now on the floor, reduced to fragments. A [[glass decanter]] is also there, together with a pair of unused wine glasses. [continued] [if LandscapeUncrook == false] [append] Above it, a slightly crooked framed print of a [[pastoral landscape->landscape]] hangs. [if LandscapeUncrook == true] [append] Above it, a framed print of a [[landscape]] hangs. [continue] On the opposite side, a glass-paned door opens onto the [[🌿terrace->terrace]]. An open archway leads you into the [[🛋️sitting room->sitting room]], while a narrower doorway connects to the small [[🍳kitchenette->kitchenette]].

[if EleanorBreakfast == true] The dining table, though sturdy, bears marks of frequent use. The wood is lightly scuffed, and the finish has dulled in places, particularly where the runner has been pulled aside. Faint crumbs linger along its surface, a mix of fine sugar and something darker, perhaps from bread or cake. There's also a small, dried tea stain near the center. [if EleanorBreakfast == true; if pocketwatch == false] [append] To the side is instead the [[pocket watch->cutscene unpicked pocket watch]], in the same exact location you saw Eleanor place it. [continued] [if EleanorBreakfast == false] The dining table, though sturdy, bears marks of frequent use. The wood is lightly scuffed, and the finish has dulled in places, particularly where the runner has been pulled aside. Atop the surface, a plate of muffins sits abandoned, their clotted cream now hard as a rock. A small bowl of cold porridge, filled halfway, rests nearby alongside a milky cup of tea. *To not have even touched their tea, someone must've left in a hurry.* The chairs surrounding the table are all slightly different in design, as though collected piece by piece rather than as a set. One wobbles slightly whenever you cross through it. [continued] {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

The double doors, tall and made of dark wood, stand imposingly at the end of the hallway. Their surface is smooth, save for a few faint scratches near the brass handles. Being incorporeal, you attempt to test your abilities by drifting through the material - this however, does not happen. As you attempt to pass your hand through, an unexpected force repels you back, a sensation both firm and blisteringly hot. At that moment, a set of crudely drawn chalk symbols drawn above the door frame flare to life, glowing a pale purple before fading towards their natural white. The two events seem to be connected, but in what capacity you cannot say. {link to: 'entryway', label: 'Back'}

[if TapeDressFitted] The formal dress hangs onto the floor of the wardrobe, its fabric a soft shade of soft yellow. The gown was clearly made from an expensive material, with intricate lace trim along the neckline and sleeves. Your attempt to adjust it has been... less than successful. The dress now hangs in two distinct pieces, the waistline completely torn apart. This is beyond repair. [unless TapeDressFitted] The formal dress hangs gracefully, its fabric a soft shade of soft yellow. The gown is clearly made from an expensive material, with intricate lace trim along the neckline and sleeves. However, just before the pleats of the skirt, a rip runs along the seam of the waist, jagged and uneven. The fabric has recently been torn under pressure, likely from someone fatter than the dress was intended for attempting to fit into it - Eleanor, perhaps. It's a shame. The dress itself seems quite beautiful, though... clearly not made to accommodate Eleanor's current curves. [continue] {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'} [note] Item that can repair the damage and also fit the dress better Pocket watch making the player see what went wrong, and how it got ripped. [continued]

Empty plates, cups, and saucers litter the table's surface, their rims bearing traces of various meals. Bits of gravy, meat juice stains, frosting smears and stains mark each dish - some still have bits of food stuck to them, suggesting that, although bare, they were licked clean rather than properly washed. A particularly large platter sits at the center, its surface showing clear signs of having been scraped repeatedly with a fork. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Inventory Logic'}" config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic'}" config.footer.center: "{embed passage: 'Settings Menu Logic (Chapter 1)'}" -- You drift within the dimly lit entryway of a modest flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->front door]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel]]. [unless SittingroomDooropen] Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick [[double doors]]. Beyond them you hear the muted crackle of a fire. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[🛁washroom->washroom]]. [if SittingroomDooropen] Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->sitting room]], from which you hear the muted crackle of a fire. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[🛁washroom->washroom]]. [continued] Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->upper floor]]. [if pocketwatch == false; if Eleanorspotted == true; if EleanorBreakfast == false] On the ground, there's now a small, [[*ticking* object->cutscene unpicked pocket watch]].

BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns: BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns + 1 -- [if BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns == 1] You find yourself back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel museum ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. [if BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns == 2] You find yourself back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel museum ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->museum ending cannot move cutscene]]. [if BroughtToTheMuseeumTurns == 3] Finally, you hear the familiar sound of someone making her way down the [[stairs->Brought to the museeum ending cutscene 2]].

ForgottenEndingTurns: ForgottenEndingTurns + 1 -- [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 1] You find back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel forgotten ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. [note] Entryway, but you can't move anywhere, and can only watch and attempt to move. [continue] [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 2] Time stretches oddly - you cannot tell if minutes or months pass between moments of awareness. You drift in and out of consciousness, catching brief glimpses of change: shifting shadows, the slow march of seasons visible through windows, occasional echoes of activity from other parts of the building. [[...->entryway forgotten ending]] [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 3] You find back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel forgotten ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 4] You find back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel forgotten ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. *You watch as Eleanor walks through the hallway, dressed for work. She passes your vessel without a second glance.* [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 5] You find back inside the entryway of the flat. Behind you stands the heavy oak [[🚪front door->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To your left, on top of a delicate wooden hall table, rests your [[🪦vessel->vessel forgotten ending]]. Straight ahead, the narrow hallway extends further into the apartment, ending at a pair of thick double doors. Beyond them is a [[🛋️sitting room->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. To the left of the hallway, a closed door leads to a [[washroom->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. Further down, a flight of stairs rises steeply to the [[⤴️upper floor->forgotten ending cannot move cutscene]]. [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 6] Without a well-defined goal, it's impossible for you to remain focused. The dark granite of your vessel calls to you. As your consciousness begins to dissolve, you wonder if you'll ever awaken, or if this time the sleep will be permanent. The last thing you notice is Eleanor's silhouette passing through the entryway one final time, her form growing fainter as your vision [[dims->Forgotten Ending]].

Inside the tiny terrarium, delicate fronds of fern curl upward, vibrant and green against the mossy substrate beneath them. A small shard of pottery sits nestled among the plants, its edges jagged, as though recently broken from a larger piece. The faintest hint of condensation gathers on the glass. A piece of [[yellowed paper]] is sitting right in front of the jar's brass base. {link to: 'fireplace', label: 'Back'}

Closing in on the figurine, you can see it depicts a robed woman, her hands clasped before her in quiet reverence. The craftsmanship is exquisite, with intricate folds etched into the drapery and a neutral expression upon her face. A green patina clings to the grooves. Etched along the base are words in a... familiar, yet unlegible script. {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

You drift closer to the modest marble fireplace, its smooth surface cool and faintly veined with gray. On the mantel itself, a delicate [[brass clock]] ticks softly, its face etched with Roman numerals. Near it is a small [[terracotta figurine]] of a woman holding a bundle of grain, and a tiny [[fern terrarium]] encased in a bell jar. [note] A shallow ceramic bowl sits at the other end of the mantel, filled with polished [[stones and seashells. [continue] The hearth below is lined with soot-blackened bricks, and a few charred pine logs still smolder faintly, giving off a gentle warmth. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The modest marble fireplace lies cold and neglected, its surface dulled by a thin film of dust. In the hearth, half-burned logs have crumbled to ash, untouched for what seems like days. The mantel is bare, with no sign of Eleanor's trinkets. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

You attempt to drift in that direction, but find yourself growing weaker with each passing moment. Your form wavers and fades, drawn inexorably back to your vessel. Whatever strength you once had is slipping away, leaving you tethered to the spot. {link to: 'entryway forgotten ending', label: 'Back'}

[if stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room, Each post support a canopy of soft fabric that drapes down in gentle folds, and its wooden frame is polished and sturdy. Well, not that sturdy after all: it groans under Eleanor's swollen form. She's laying on top of a cozy quilt half-tucked around the edges, and propped up by a plethora of pillows. Her honey-blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders as she leans against the headboard. [if helpfulnessNegative; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room, even though its wooden frame is left dusty and scratched. Each post support a canopy of fabric that drapes down. Its mattress and messily set quilt sags in the middle where Eleanor is currently laying on. Her honey-blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders and onto the stained pillows. [if helpfulnessNone; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room. Each post support a canopy of fabric that drapes down. It's functional, but clearly worn. The quilt lies half-off the mattress, its stitching fraying at the edges. The pillows maintain slight head-shaped indentations, while a random ledger serves as makeshift bedside table. [if helpfulnessMedium; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room, its wooden frame sturdy. Each post support a canopy of soft fabric that drapes down in gentle folds. It looks recently straightened, with military corners on the quilt. Its pillows are plumped and arranged in height order. You can also spot faint broom marks visible in the rug pile around the freshly polished bedposts. [if helpfulnessHigh; unless stuffedstate == 'OVERSTUFFED'] The four-poster bed stands as a central feature of the room, its wooden frame sturdy. Each post support a canopy of soft fabric that drapes down in gentle folds. It looks recently straightened, with military corners on the quilt. Its pillows are aligned by size with geometric precision - its canopy fabric is steamed free of wrinkles, draped exactly 1, 3, 6... 12 inches from each post. Not a single feather is out of place. Eleanor is currently sitting on top of it, propped up by a plethora of pillows and enjoying a novel. Her honey-blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders as she leans against the headboard. [continue] {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'}

You drift toward the heavy oak door, its dark surface polished to a faint sheen. The brass handle and keyhole are well-worn, their edges dulled by years of use. A faint draft seeps through the narrow gap beneath. No matter how close you try to get to it, you find yourself incapable of leaving the apartment. {link to: 'entryway', label: 'Back'}

Floating over to the armchair, you examine the garments. The items appear to be the typical attire of an assistant of some kind. At the top of the pile is a slightly rumpled black [[waistcoat]]. Beneath it lies a neatly folded [[cravat]]. Further down, you notice a crisp white [[blouse]], its high collar unfastened, and a long black [[skirt]] with a small tear at the hem. At the very bottom, half-obscured by the folds of the skirt, rest a [[corset]] and a simple set of [[undergarments]]. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The glass decanter with a simple cut pattern winding around its base. It stands half-filled with a dark amber liquid, its cloudy, slightly dusty surface catching the dim light. A faint aroma lingers near the stopper, something rich and oaky. Perhaps it's brandy, maybe sherry. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

guestroomfirst: true -- You drift into what you think was built as a guest room, but has now been transformed into Eleanor's office, library, and repository all at once. The walls are lined with mismatched shelves, crammed with books, rolled maps, and small display cases housing various artifacts. The items range from delicate [[pottery sherds->pottery shards]], [if arrowheadstaken == false] [append] [[arrowheads]], [continued] [append] to larger pieces like an ornate [[brass astrolabe]], random assortments of [[bones]], and a small [[stone bust]] with weathered features. At the center of the room, a sturdy writing desk is piled with open books, loose papers, and an inkwell with a slightly askew quill. A green-shaded lamp casts a pool of light over the desk, [if NotesPlastered == false] [append] illuminating some of Eleanor’s [[notes and sketches]], and her [[apron]] on the wall. [else] [append] Illuminating her [[apron]] on the wall. The notes and sketches that were once on the desk are now little more than a pile of white ash. [continued] Behind you is the door back to the [[⤴️hallway->upper floor]].

The half-finished letter - more so a very rough draft than anything else - lies open on the desk, its uneven lines suggesting a fair amount of hesitation. The ink is darker in some places, where the pen lingered too long. Fragments of thought scatter across the paper: * "...and though I understand the risks involved, I cannot ignore the potential significance of what lies beneath-" * "...it isn’t a question of preservation, but possession. <del>...it should be the opposite. *God I hate you you pompous-*</del>" * "...I personally believe that my conduct within our institution has been more than exemplary, and mere rumors that I might have gained a little bit of- * "...if the museum won’t fund the excavation, I’ll have no choice but to... well, I'll have no choice, Mary. <del>You know what I'm talking about.</del>" The rest dissolves into scratches and crossed-out words. What is this all about? {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

handmirror: true -- The hand mirror is silver, its surface very polished. The frame is elaborately decorated, with swirling patterns and delicate floral motifs - far too ornate for everyday use, you reckon. Of course, there is no reflection of your form. Though as you watch Eleanor through it, a *purple* light shines behind it. *As you linger, the mirror lifts gently from the desk. Its handle shifts as if adjusting for balance, then, with a soft metallic hum, it begins to drift beside you. Whichever the side it points towards, it keeps showing you the same exact view of this room.* {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

Eleanorhandbag: true -- The handbag rests on the table, a modest accessory crafted from soft, dark leather. Its surface shows faint creases from use, and a simple brass clasp secures its contents. You will it open, and the clasp snaps with a soft *click*. Inside, you find a folded handkerchief, the stub of a pencil, a compact mirror, some scattered coinage... and that's it. Eleanor must have emptied it, this can't be all she brings with her to work. *The bag shudders. With a slight tug, it lifts into the air and begins to hover near you, its lid opening and closing in a manner not to dissimilar to that of a blabbering mouth.* {link to: 'terrace', label: 'Back'}

wrongartefact: 0 -- The handkerchief flutters out from the handbag's clasp, unfolding itself in midair. It's a delicate thing, embroidered with Eleanor's initials in one corner. After a moment's hesitation, it dabs at the leather exterior where the dust from the artifacts you've tried feeding the handbag have left a mark. The handbag's clasp clicks open once more. *How nice of them to forgive you.* {link to: 'Handbag', label: 'Back'}

The heavily damaged figurine, though it's missing its head and arms, depicts a frail, emaciated person, their gaunt frame barely concealed by the tattered remnants of a robe. Despite its condition, remnants of red pigment cling stubbornly to the figurine’s surface. A jagged crack runs along her torso, threatening to split the figure in two, and several chips have left the base uneven, though still technically readable... just not to you, as you don't know the script. {link to: 'pottery shards', label: 'Back'}

Figurine2: true -- Nearing the broken figurine, the quill stops for a moment, then writes something down. As the ink settles, the paper detaches from it and drifts between you and the object. It appears they have attempted a very rough translation of the text at the base. ~AVERT FAMINE, SILENTLY~ The quill hovers briefly and, after a moment, writes a question mark. {link to: 'heavily damaged figurine', label: 'Back'}

The jewelry box, lacquered black with a crescent moon in mother-of-pearl, is open. Inside, you find a few delicate trinkets - a couple of bracelets, a ring or two, a brooch... Most of them look like they’ve been left here a while, untouched. {link to: 'decorative boxes', label: 'Back'}

You hover into the small kitchenette. Against the far wall stands a large cast iron [[stove]]. Beside it, a worn wooden counter supports a gleaming brass [[sink]] with a small pump handle. Overhead, there are some neatly arranged [[cupboards]]. [if Butterdish == false] In the center of the room, a modest wooden table serves as a workspace. At one end of it lies a small stack of [[letters]]. [continue] [if Butterdish == true] In the center of the room, a modest wooden table serves as a workspace. At one end of it lies a small stack of [[letters]] and an empty [[butter dish->butter dish empty]]. [continue] [if pantryrobberdealtwith == false] To the right, is a narrow door to the flat's [[🧀pantry->pantry]]. [if pantryrobberdealtwith == true] To the right, is a narrow door to the flat's [[🧀pantry->Pantry (Not Robbed)]]. [continue] To your left is instead a door to the [[🧹scullery->scullery]], and the archway leading back to the [[🪑dining room->dining room]]. [note] , while a simple wicker [[bread basket sits at the other. [continue]

Dulllookingknife: true -- Sat inside the box is what you can guess is a recovered artefact: a dull-looking knife. The hilt is crafted from a rough, weathered wood, while the blade itself is slightly curved, the edges heavily chipped - it has clearly been in use for quite a long time through the ages. You can see there was some kind of script running onto the metal, but it has either been covered by soot or worn down. *Concentrating on the writings, you barely notice the knife begin hovering closer and closer to you. Whether you want to or not, it now follows you.* {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

The framed print depicts a serene ancient valley. A rudimentary temple - a bare collection of white stone slabs arranged into a circle - rises on a hilltop, while shepherds tend their flocks near a fishing village. Both of these dwellings overlook a distant, jagged mountain; the afternoon light bathes the simple homes in a warm glow. A group of musicians and dancers celebrate in the foreground to the right, their movements captured in oils beneath the tranquil sky. A small note set inside the frame reads the name of the artwork: "The Pastoral State". [if LandscapeUncrook == false] *It hangs just a little crooked on the wall.* [continued] {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

The laundry hamper sits in the corner, brimming with crumpled linens and garments. A faint scent of soap and stale fabric clings to the pile, mixing with the musty air of the washroom. The top is slightly askew, a few shirts peeking out from underneath the lid. {link to: 'scullery', label: 'Back'}

You drift toward the modest stack of letters on the kitchen table. The one on the top letter has already been opened, and is written on heavy cream-colored paper, its content scrawled in a hurried hand. <blockquote>"Dear Eleanor, For the love of all that is mighty, the artifacts are a property of the museum. I do not care that you "only take the ones in the archive". When borrowed, even if it's for personal study, they have to be returned *eventually*. It's been ***months!!*** I want the vase, heads and especially the skull back tomorrow morning, or mark my words young lady you *will* be in trouble. Yours sincerely, Markus Trevelyan."</blockquote> {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

The light green skirt hangs gently to one side. Its hem is torn, a ragged split running along the edge. Maybe it caught on something sharp? Despite this, it remains hung, as though waiting to be mended. [if TapeGreenSkirtFitted] Unfortunately your intervention seems to have made things worse. Oops. [continue] It's a shame, too: the fabric itself seems to be in excellent condition, its color vibrant and fresh as if freshly tailored. {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

The surface of the bar of soap is rough, with jagged edges where chunks have been shaved off over time. It has a faint, almost medicinal smell, and rests in a small dish. It's nearly worn down, but you reckon it's enough to last for a few more laundry days. {link to: 'scullery', label: 'Back'}

measuringtape: true -- The measuring tape lies coiled near the undergarments, its ribbon marked with precise increments in both inches and another strange measuring system with smaller units that you don't recognize. The brass end catch that caught your eye earlier shows signs of frequent handling, and is in fact loose. *As you focus on it, the tape begins to unspool, hovering in a loose, ever turning spiral. Like the other objects you've collected, it now drifts alongside you.* {link to: 'undergarments', label: 'Back'}

The glass of the mirror is slightly fogged, though it wouldn't really matter eitherway. You'd just be able to see the reflection of the room: you quite evidently don't have one. Why would a ghost expect otherwise? {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

The hand mirror is silver, its surface very polished. The frame is elaborately decorated, with swirling patterns and delicate floral motifs - far too ornate for everyday use, you reckon. Of course, there is still no reflection of your form - but there's not one for the bathroom either. Instead, whichever the side it points towards, it keeps showing you the same exact view of this bedroom. *Well... not really. Seen through the mirror's reflection, the angle seems to be slightly shifted to the left.* {link to: 'mirror', label: 'Back'}

You attempt to drift in that direction, but find yourself still weakened from the short slumber you took inside the vessel. Your form wavers and fades, and you gather it may be best for you to gather more of your forces before going about the apartment. {link to: 'entryway Brought to the Museeum Ending', label: 'Back'}

The ink is slightly smudged, but legible: *“Catalog #274, Ancient Celtic Ritual Vessel. Unearthed in Brittany, France. Likely used in ceremonial offerings. Circa 4th century BCE.”* {link to: 'bookshelf', label: 'Back'}

The ink is clear as day: *"Catalog #487, Ancient Celtic Arrowheads. Excavated near Brittany, France. Thought to be used for hunting and/or warfare. Circa 4th century BCE."* {link to: 'arrowheads', label: 'Back'}

The notes and sketches are scattered haphazardly across the desk, some pinned together while others threaten to drift off the edge. Among them are detailed drawings of carvings found on artefacts. On the left there are patterns consisting of rounded, blob-like shapes with tiny V marks (or is that a Y? An asterisk, perhaps?) etched into their centers. On the right you can assume is a variant of the same pattern, with their matrix being two small circles and larger, V-marked one under them. [note] [CSS .very-big { font-size: 56px; font-variant: regular; } .big { font-size: 48px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium { font-size: 36px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium-small { font-size: 30px; font-variant: small-caps; } .small { font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps; } [continued <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-big">☋</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued] Eleanor’s handwriting is all over the papers, cramped but legible. ~"Possible early script?"~ ~"Uncommon for the area."~ ~"Foreign tribe? Wildmen?"~ ~"A pagan cult?"~ The sheer number of sketches suggests she’s been obsessively trying to come up with a hypothesis or explanation for them. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

[if WardrobeOpen == false; if WardrobeFallen == false] The wardrobe looms before you, secured by a heavy iron padlock. Its dark wooden panels are scratched here and there, and one of its legs is propped up by a box, though the lock itself appears new. As you drift closer to peer through the keyhole, and then drift your head through the wood altogether, you catch a glimpse of something within - two small points of purple light... [if WardrobeOpen == true; if WardrobeFallen == false] The wardrobe stands open, its heavy doors revealing the stack of [[chocolate bars]] within. The padlock that was keeping them safe now lies discarded on the floor near the box propping the furniture up, all thanks to you - you hope your intervention hasn't broken it. [if WardrobeOpen == false; if WardrobeFallen == true] The wardrobe lies face-down on the floor, with the box that once propped up its missing leg knocked aside. As you drift closer to peer inside of it, you notice the purple gleam that was there before has vanished - whatever creature lurked within it is not going to be a problem anymore. [if WardrobeOpen == true; if WardrobeFallen == true] The wardrobe lies face-down on the floor, its doors hanging open to its side uselessly. The padlock rests discarded nearby, and scattered around are a few stray chocolate bar wrappers that didn't make it through the gap. [continue] {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

The artwork depicts a dramatic wilderness. Its vast landscape is dominated by a stormy sky over a primeval forest. Center to the piece is a distant, jagged mountain. A group of hunters is visible amidst the chaos, though only barely: them and their tribal huts are small compared to the lush foliage they are running through. Beneath its protective glass, the canvas seems almost alive, as if the storm within it might spill forth into the room. You hope it doesn't. A small engraved plaque beneath the frame reads the name of the artwork: "The Savage State". {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The artwork depicting the wilderness scene still hangs above the mantel, though now at a noticeable tilt. Dust has settled thickly on its frame, and what appears to be a tea stain marks one corner of the canvas. The tribal hunters, nearly lost in their stormy landscape, seem to disappear further beneath a layer of grime. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

The silk panties cling to the table leg, unmistakably worn out by the outside elements they have endured. The fabric, still ivory, bears fine floral embroidery along the edges. More personal still, the initials *"E.L."* are stitched in careful cursive near the waistband. *These are Eleanor's?* The silk itself appears strained, stretched well beyond its intended shape, the material slightly puckered along the seams. [if passage.visits == 1] *What was Mary doing with them?* [continue] {link to: 'table (panty inspection)', label: 'Back'}

config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic'}" -- You drift into the pantry: a small, cool space with shelves lining the walls. You find it mostly bare, as if someone has just deliberately got rid of all of its items. You spot a few empty jars and a single basket resting on the floor. Dust motes float lazily in the air, settling on the sparse contents. An open, empty crate sits in one corner, its lid propped against the wall, its surface bearing faint traces of flour and sugar. On closer inspection, it appears someone hastily forced its lead open, breaking it. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

The potted plants are lush and vibrant, their leaves a deep, healthy green. Arranged neatly in a cluster, the herbs and flowers seem freshly watered, with dark soil visible just beneath the foliage. A few sprigs of rosemary stand tall, while a pale violet peeks out from beneath broader leaves. The terracotta pots are spotless, their rims free of dirt. It’s clear an expert in the field has tended to them with care... or that Eleanor just got them from such a person. {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

As you attempt to drift back to the dining room, you find yourself unable to near the threshold. You can't explain it, but you get the impression that there simply isn't... anything, in there. This fragment of the past is confined to, and singularly comprised by, the terrace. {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

[if Quillandpaper == false] The pens sit beside a collection of ink pots, their nibs worn but still capable of writing. A few have small splatters of ink on their barrels, suggestive of hasty, frustrated use. One pen even has its nib cracked - Eleanor really should learn to use a gentler hand when jotting things down. It's that very same quill that suddenly shudders and, alongside a scrap of paper, [[begins to take flight->quill and paper cutscene]]. [if passage.visits == 2] The pens sit beside a collection of ink pots, their nibs worn but clearly still capable of writing. A few have small splatters of ink on their barrels, the marks suggestive of a hasty, frustrated use. One pen even has its nib cracked - Eleanor should really learn to use a gentler hand when writing stuff down. None of them seem particularly remarkable nor expensive. {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'} [if passage.visits > 2] The pens sit beside a collection of ink pots, their nibs worn but clearly still capable of writing. A few have small splatters of ink on their barrels, the marks suggestive of a hasty, frustrated use. One pen even has its nib cracked - Eleanor should really learn to use a gentler hand when writing stuff down. None of them seem particularly remarkable nor expensive. {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

A few periodicals lie scattered haphazardly, their pages slightly curled at the edges. The titles are familiar, printed in bold type on the front covers. One magazine, “The Gentlewoman’s Journal of Fashion and Etiquette,” lies open, revealing an illustration of the latest high-society attire. Another, “The Monthly Review of Archaeological Discoveries,” features a pretty sketch of an ancient Egyptian artifact. There is one [[article]] in particular that has been heavily annotated. Both publications are from the year *1888, September 15*. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The planter’s crate leans against the terrace wall, its wooden slats weathered and slightly warped. Traces of soil cling stubbornly to its interior, though it’s clear it hasn’t been used in a while. A a trowel and a pair of pruning shears lie forgotten at the bottom, their metal edges shiny and new. It seems Eleanor once had greater ambitions for her gardening than the current state of the terrace suggests. {link to: 'terrace', label: 'Back'}

Clotofplaster: true -- The container of plaster rests on the shelf, its lid... not as secure as you had gauged at a distance. Eleanor must have left it [[open->plaster cutscene 2]].

With a soft shudder, the plaster within begins to shift and congeal, forming into a small, amorphous sphere. The substance seems to ripple and pulse with a life of its own, expanding and contracting like a floating clot of liquid stone. It's both solid and liquid at once, its surface shifting constantly as if it were alive. *You watch as the clot floats away from its container, and as a nose forms on one side of it. It sniffs the air near you for a moment or two, before losing its shape and deciding to follow you around.* {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

The ceramic dishes are neatly arranged in modest stacks, most of them white china with delicate, faded blue patterns curling along their rims. Three plates stand apart at the front of the sideboard. Their dull ceramic surface is rougher, more primitive, with no apparent glaze. Faint traces of an illegible script - perhaps the very same you saw onto the doors - circle their edges, worn smooth. Despite their ancient appearance, they seem untouched by dust, as if they’ve been carefully handled, or perhaps used, not long ago. {link to: 'dining room', label: 'Back'}

[if PottedPlantsDestroyed == false] The potted plants are arranged neatly in a cluster, though their condition leaves much to be desired. Leaves hang limp and discolored, ranging from a pale yellow to a near-crisp brown. Among them, you spot a few stubborn survivors fighting against the odds: a sprig of rosemary here, a struggling marigold there... [if PottedPlantsDestroyed == true] The potted plants sit in their terracotta pots, reduced to stumps and broken stems. The rosemary is a shadow of its former self, while the marigold has been trimmed down to nearly nothing. Only a few scattered leaves and petals remain, dusting the rim of their containers. [continued] The terracotta pots themselves look to be oddly clean, as if just recently bought. A small copper [[watering can]] is tucked among them, its spout aimed optimistically at the least wilted of the lot. {link to: 'terrace', label: 'Back'}

HelpfulnessEXP: HelpfulnessEXP - 1 PottedPlantsDestroyed: true -- The dull-looking knife hovers near the wilting plants, its chipped blade catching what little light remains. For a moment it pauses, as if considering its options, before decisively slashing at the drooping leaves. Bits of foliage scatter across the terrace as the knife hacks away with surprising enthusiasm. The rosemary puts up a valiant fight, but ultimately succumbs to the blade's clumsy assault. Even the marigold loses its last few petals to the onslaught. When the knife finally returns to you, most of the plants are reduced to ragged stumps. They certainly look more uniform now, if nothing else. {link to: 'potted plants', label: 'Back'}

[note] put a third ceramic figurine here, hidden through the ceramic. Have it portray an old, emanciated woman. That way, we can have a trio of figurines that tell of what happens when you pray to the goddess of hunger. Have the ghost feel sadness at the sight of this poor woman. Have the pigment on it be red. [continued] The pottery sherds are spread out carefully on a felt-lined tray, their edges jagged and uneven. Each has been arranged by size, and some even bear small, handwritten labels pinned nearby. Patterns of faded paint and faint etchings hint at the artefact - perhaps artefacts, *plural* - they once belonged to. It's evident though the pieces are far too fragmented to reassemble into anything cohesive. Perhaps in spite of this, a [[heavily damaged figurine]] sits to the left. [if Clotofplaster == false] On a shelf near them, there is also a small [[container of plaster->plaster cutscene]], its lid shut. The fine white powder within appears untouched, likely meant for an future reconstruction. [continued] [if Clotofplaster == true] [append] A small empty container intended for plaster sits next to the shards. [continued] {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

[if passage.visits == 1] The quill hovers near the astrolabe, examining its concentric rings. After a thoughtful pause, it begins to write onto the paper: ~OUTDATED INSTRUMENT. FASCINATING, ISN'T IT? THE ETCHINGS ARE QUITE PRETTY.~ The quill tilts towards you, as if debating whether to add more, but apparently decides against it. [if passage.visits > 1] The quill hovers near the astrolabe, but doesn't go about examining it. Instead it begins writing immediately. ~FINE. FINE! YOU GOT ME. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THE ETCHINGS MEAN. I WAS TRYING TO DISTRACT YOU FROM THEM.~ The quill tilts away from you, and so does the paper after you've read it [continue] {link to: 'brass astrolabe', label: 'Back'}

The quill and paper hover near the brittle tag, examining it closely. The quill tilts side to side as though scrutinizing the empty surface. With an almost exasperated flourish, it begins to scribble. ~ANIMAL? CEREMONIAL? WE'RE NOT BIOLOGISTS, ASK AN EXPERT~ Ah. So Eleanor must've actually forgot to fill in the tag. {link to: 'bones', label: 'Back'}

The quill hovers near the cabinet, drawn specifically to the worn label of the green glass jar. After a thoughtful pause, it begins to write onto the paper. When the writing stops, the paper shifts toward you, the message clear: ~MENTHA TINCTURE - THE FIRST CHOICE OF THE SAVANT FOR THE RELIEF OF HEADACHES~ The quill then scratches one last, exceedingly small line beneath the rest - a cursive so small you actually find yourself having to drift closer: ~MAY STIMULATE APPETITE~ {link to: 'cabinet', label: 'Back'}

The quill hovers near the corset's laces, studying the frayed ends of the corset before beginning to write: ~NEEDS ADJUSTING. STAYS TOO TIGHT. LACES AT MAXIMUM EXTENSION.~ ~WAIST: +4 INCHES THIS MONTH~ ~BUST: +2 INCHES THIS MONTH~ The quill hovers briefly and taps down twice onto the paper. {link to: 'corset', label: 'Back'}

Quillandpaper: true -- *After a quick float through the bedroom, the two begin to hover near you, constantly scribbling an endless amount of illegible text onto each other.* The ink pots stir, and one of them begins to float a inch or two, but ultimately decides to come back down. You reckon it's better this way: you don't want to cover the whole apartment in ink. Strangely enough, Eleanor doesn't seem to notice all of this in the slightest. She's either too focused on herself, or it might just be the fact that you and your objects are not a strong enough presence to be perceived. *Yet.* {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

doubledoorengravings: true -- The quill hovers near the double doors, pausing in midair as if considering the strange symbols above. With a careful demeanor, it scratches across the page. When it finally stops, the paper drifts between you and the doors, the message... quite odd: [[~THANKS TO GIVEN GOD OF HUNGER DESIRE APPLE UNWELCOME.~->quill and paper double door cutscene 2]]

The quill, possibly sensing your confusion, floats in front of the paper, reading through it again. After a brief back and forth, the two items step to the side and write a different message for you. ~DISJOINTED, NONESENSICAL GRAMMAR. THE ENGRAVER MAY NOT HAVE A GOOD GRASP OF THE LANGUAGE'S PICTOGRAMS.~ The symbols above the door flare briefly in response but otherwise remain inert. {link to: 'double doors', label: 'Back'}

The quill hesitates over the ancient dishes, its nib quivering as if recognizing something familiar. Then, with a sharp flick, it begins to write. As the ink settles, the paper detaches from it and drifts between you and the sideboard. It appears they have attempted a rough translation of the text - better yet, the repeating word - on the perimeter of each of the plates. ~1. BREAD~ ~2. APPLE~ ~3. BUTTER~ The quill hovers briefly and proudly taps down twice onto the paper. {link to: 'porcelain dishes', label: 'Back'}

The scarves are draped over the rail, a tangle of soft fabrics in muted colors - grays, creams, and the occasional pale blue. Some are lightweight and gauzy, while others are more functional to cold weather and so made of thick, woven wool. One, a deep red with tasseled edges, seems to have been folded more carefully than the rest. {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

The periodicals lie scattered across the floor, some crumpled, others stained with tea or food. Most are fairly recent copies of "The Gentlewoman's Journal of Fashion and Etiquette," their pages creased at articles about the latest fashions. A half-eaten sandwich rests atop one, its contents slowly seeping into the paper. You spot no archaeological journals or academic papers among them. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

You drift into the scullery. Narrow and dimly lit, the space is sparse, meant more for function than comfort. A deep ceramic [[basin sink]] rests against the far wall, its drain pipe vanishing into the floorboards below. To its side is a [[laundry hamper]], while on top of it is a small shelf above it holds a collection of scrubbing brushes and a half-used bar of [[lye soap]]. At the center of the scullery sits a plain wooden stool, and beside it, on the floor, an empty [[bread basket]]. Behind you is the door back to the [[🍳kitchenette->kitchenette]]. [if BasinSinkPlugged == false] *Drip... drip... drip...* [continue]

You drift toward the settee. It's clearly second, maybe even third hand. The fabric is a faded velvet, once rich and deep in color, now dulled by time and frequent sitting. The cushions sag slightly, leaving a cheeky set of permanent indentations. An off-white pillow rests casually on the backrest. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'} [note] and beneath it, a small [[leather-bound journal peeks out, half-hidden from view. [continued]

The settee's velvet upholstery has lost its fight against time and use - permanent, round indentations mark the cushions, while crumbs and food stains mottle the fabric. The soft padding below now sags towards the floor. If nothing else, there seems to be a lot more pillows on top of it. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

[unless sewingboxsolved] Unable to open the box, you drift your incorporeal form directly into it. Though dark, soon enough you realize that instead of thread or needles, it's stuffed full to the brim with biscuits. Shortbread, mostly, round and sugar-dusted, though a few slightly misshapen ginger ones peek out from the bottom. There's not a single scrap of sewing material in sight... which is probably a good thing all things considered. Needles and biscuits should *not* share a container. [if sewingboxsolved] Unable to open the box, you drift your incorporeal form directly into it. Though dark, you quickly realize that instead of thread, needles, or even biscuits, it's full to the absolute brim of a mixture of Nitrogen, Oxygen, and a tiny, almost imperceptible quantity of Argon and Carbon Dioxide. It looks like Eleanor hasn't bothered to restock it yet. [continued] {link to: 'decorative boxes', label: 'Back'}

The small silver bowl sits unceremoniously on the low table. It’s slightly tarnished but otherwise unremarkable. Empty, of course, but that allows its smooth surface to reflect a distorted view of the room around it. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The polished surface of the sink gleams faintly even in the dim light of the kitchenette. The pump handle stands tall, its edges worn smooth. A few stray droplets cling to the spout, while the basin below shows faint scratches and marks - wire brushes and soap will do that over time. A tea-stained cloth hangs over the edge of the basin, still damp. {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

You hover into the sitting room. Directly across from you, above the mantel of a modest marble [[fireplace]], hangs a large framed [[painting]]. To the left, a well-worn upholstered [[settee]] faces the hearth. Scattered across the low wooden table before it are a few [[periodicals]], [unless candleholder] [append] an exhausted [[candleholder]], [if candleholder] [append] a [[candleholder]], [if successfuldelivery == true] [append] a barren cake plate, [continued] [append] and a small, empty [[silver bowl]]. Along the far wall behind the settee stands a tall [[bookshelf]]. Near a pair of towering [[windows]] draped with heavy curtains, an overstuffed armchair sits slightly askew. Set over its back are a [[waistcoat]] and a few [[garments]]. To your right, the room opens into a [[🪑dining room->dining room]]. Behind you, the hallway leads back to the [[🚪entryway->entryway]]. [if passage.visits == 3] *You seem to have an innate knowledge of what surrounds you is named and used. Having sat here for years, you must've passively picked things up.* [continue]

You float over the black skirt. The material is rich, a fine wool blend with a slight sheen that speaks of quality, though it's a little worn down, fraying slightly at the edges. The waistband is strongly stitched, though a few threads are loose from constant use, likely from hours spent seated at a desk. Faint smudges of gray dust near the hem suggest it has brushed against the floor, and there's a slight musty scent to the fabric, as if the garment has been neglected for a day or two. {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The skull's surface is not only yellowed, but also marred with deep cracks and missing fragments. The damage is evident - it looks as if it had once been shattered and then meticulously pieced back together. A few traces of glue-like residue seem to confirm this. The eye sockets, hollow and dark, seem unnaturally smooth compared to the rest of the it, where the repairs are most apparent. {link to: 'casket box', label: 'Back'}

The steamer chest sits amongst the clutter, its brass fittings dulled with age. The lid is propped slightly open, revealing neatly folded linens and what appears to be summer clothing packed away for the winter months. Is Eleanor already storing away this season's clothing? Which month is it, anyways? August? September? A faint scent of mothballs and lavender drifts up from within. {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

The stone bust sits solemnly on the shelf, its features rough but recognizable - a stern-faced individual with a broad nose and a prominent brow. Time and heavy weather has smoothed some of the finer details, leaving the dark granite an austere, almost stubborn expression. A faint groove on its base suggests it may once have been mounted on a plinth of some sort, but now it’s just another occupant of Eleanor’s ever-growing personal exhibit. {link to: 'guest room', label: 'Back'}

The shallow ceramic bowl is indeed filled with an assortment of polished stones and seashells. The stones range in color from deep umber to pale jade, their surfaces smooth from years of wear. The shells are equally varied - spirals, fans, and fragments, each with its own subtle patterning. At the bottom of the bowl, barely visible beneath the collection, rests a scrap of parchment with faint, inked lettering. The text reads: “From the shores of Weymouth, 1883.”

You float closer to the cast iron stove, its surface faintly smudged with soot and grease. Four brass burners line the stovetop, and a wood-burning oven chamber sits below. The iron rings atop the burners are still warm. Peering into the small grate below, you note a few glowing embers nestled amidst the ash - it's likely that it was used earlier in the day. The faint, comforting scent of roasted chestnuts lingers, mingling with a strong aroma of... burnt sugar? {link to: 'kitchenette', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] Perhaps make any passages not too long, so that we can add a few lines of dialogue as things happen and more easily change the text displayed. [if pastterraceturn == 2] [if pastterraceturn == 3] [note] [if pastterraceturn == 4 In theory, this makes no sense inside of an object as this diorama only has 3 turns, and the fourth is only reserved for the final cutscene. [continue] [if pastterraceturn == 3] [if pastterraceturn == 3; if tablebreaking == false] If didn't break the [[table]], it would still be here of course. [if pastterraceturn == 3; if tablebreaking == true] Otherwise, it wouldn't. [if pastterraceturn == 3] We can make conditionals like these, but we would need to remember to put the master conditional when we continue on with the other text.

You approach the small table. Mundane and unremarkable, it's just another piece of furniture dotting the terrace. [if passage.visits == 1] *But now you know something fell under it during that meeting...* [continue] The checkered tablecloth hangs unevenly, its hem brushing the ground. As you float downwards to peer beneath it, you spot a pair of silk [[panties]] stuck to one of the legs. {link to: 'terrace', label: 'Back'}

[if pastterraceturn == 1] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is full to the brim, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup, meanwhile, is still half-full, left to cool. The sugar bowl’s lid has been nudged askew, a single cube resting on the saucer. [if pastterraceturn == 2] [if pastterraceturn == 2; unless GluttonyTerrace] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is half-full, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup, meanwhile, is almost empty. The sugar bowl’s lid has been nudged askew, a single cube resting on the saucer. [if pastterraceturn == 2; if GluttonyTerrace] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is half-full, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup, meanwhile, is empty, and currently getting refilled for a third time. The sugar bowl’s lid has been nudged askew, a single cube resting on the saucer. [if pastterraceturn == 3] [if pastterraceturn == 3; unless GluttonyTerrace] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is almost empty, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup is also empty. The sugar bowl’s lid has been closed. [if pastterraceturn == 3; if GluttonyTerrace] The tea set sits on the table, its porcelain cups and saucers glazed blue. The teapot, matching the set, is empty, and ready to be used. One of the cups - Mary's - shows a faint ring where it has already been drained and then refilled. Eleanor’s cup was also empty, but just got refilled a fourth time. The sugar bowl’s lid has been closed. [continued] {link to: 'Past Terrace (Turn system)', label: 'Back'}

GlutttonyIncremented: false GluttonyCalEXP (GluttonyTerrace == true && GlutttonyIncremented == false): GluttonyCalEXP + 2 GlutttonyIncremented (GluttonyTerrace == true): true config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic'}" -- You drift onto the terrace, a modest stone platform enclosed by a wrought-iron railing. The cool evening air goes through your immaterial form - it tastes of coal smoke, no doubt from the nearby smoke stacks, and of sea salt. {embed passage: 'Terrace Table Handbag and HandbagHit Logic'} [continue] [append] Nearby, a cluster of sickly looking [[potted plants]] sits, arranged with care. In another corner, leaning against the wall, is a wooden [[planter’s crate]]. Above, the sky fades from orange, to ashen gray, all the way to a deep blue. The first pinpricks of starlight beginning to emerge. Behind you is the way back inside the [[🪑flat->dining room]].

pastterraceturn: 0 GluttonyTerrace: false RageTerrace: false PoiseTerrace: false DoubtTerrace: false CuriosityTerrace: false LongingTerrace: false boxofsweetseaten: false pastterraceturn: false EleanorDepression: false HandbagHit: false config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'IsPast Page Layout Logic'}" -- As you lift the pocket watch, its hands begin to spin backward with increasing speed. The terrace fades into a swirling haze, the sounds of the present growing distant. When the scene steadies, the terrace has transformed. The potted greenery is now looking lush - just bought, you assume -, and the small table, now positioned in the middle of the terrace. *"Ah, Mary, you... well, you shouldn't have..."* You hear Eleanor's voice as the terrace door opens, and watch as she steps through, followed by a cheerful woman carrying a box tied with twine. Her tone is ostensibly warm, but you can feel a weariness to it. [[Are they friends?->terrace cutscene 1.5]] [note] You should set all of the variables that will be used in the turns here beforehand, so that we don't have any problems. [continued]

"Nonsense. Nonsense, Eleanor!" the woman you assume is Mary replies, setting the box down on the table with a flourish. "I know how much you *love* these. I got them from Havel’s bakery!" The two settle themselves at the table, Eleanor carrying a tray with some tea with her and Mary reaching for the twine to [[untie the box->Past Terrace (Turn system)]].

The small figurine of a woman holding a bundle of grain draws your attention. The terracotta surface of the figurine is rough and matte, with traces of ochre pigment clinging to the grooves, particularly around the curved folds of the woman's robe. Her face is serene, gazing downward at her protruding belly, and her hands cradle the bundle. She stands atop a circular base, etched with faint, illegible marks. [if passage.visits == 1] *You don't know why, but this artifact in particular fills you with a sense of relief.* [continue] {link to: 'fireplace', label: 'Back'}

Figurine3: true -- Nearing the figurine, the quill stops for a moment, then quickly writes something down. As the ink settles, the paper detaches from it and drifts between you and the object. It appears they have attempted a rough translation of the text at the base. ~SHARE THY BREAD WITH NONE~ The quill hovers briefly and proudly taps down twice onto the paper. {link to: 'terracotta figurine', label: 'Back'}

calories: calories + 1000 -- [[return->Untitled Passage] config.header.right: "[[Inventory->Inactive Inventory" config.header.right: "[[Inventory" [JavaScript] comesFromRoom = function () { if (trail.length > 1) { const previousPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length - 2]); return previousPassage.tags.includes("Rooms"); } return undefined; }; isCutscene = function () { if (trail.length > 0) { const currentPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length - 1]); return currentPassage.tags.includes("Cutscene"); } return undefined; // Return undefined if no current passage exists }; comesFromMenu = function () { if (trail.length > 1) { const previousPassage = engine.story.passageNamed(trail[trail.length - 2]); return previousPassage.tags.includes("Menu"); } return undefined; }; updateHeaderConfig = function () { if (isCutscene()) { engine.state.set("config.header.right", ""); } else if (comesFromMenu()) { engine.state.set("config.header.right", ""); } else if (comesFromRoom()) { engine.state.set("config.header.right", "[[Inventory->Inactive Inventory"); } else { engine.state.set("config.header.right", "[[Inventory"); return result; } }; [continued]

The tintypes are arranged in a neat row along the cabinet, their surfaces darkened with age, with only some being still legible in the low light of this hallway. Most show stern-faced figures in formal wear, their expressions fixed and distant. One photo stands out. A younger girl, in her teens, posed between a very elderly couple: a woman with a gentle smile, and a man with a very stiff stance. Interestingly enough, they don't share the same blonde hair of the girl. {link to: 'upper floor', label: 'Back'}

The linen towel drapes neatly over the edge of the bathtub. It’s soft, yet a little stiff from recent washing. The edges are neatly hemmed, and you can just make out a faint monogram embroidered into the fabric: “E.L.” A slight dampness clings to it, as if it had only just been used. {link to: 'washroom', label: 'Back'}

As you attempt to drift away from the low table and go about the apartment, you feel yourself growing weaker and weaker. Your form wavers, growing fainter the further you try to move from your vessel. Only a few feet in away from it, you are forced back to that darkened granite, utterly spent. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

Floating closer, you examine the undergarments resting at the bottom of the pile. The chemise is simple, its cotton fabric softened by countless washes. Tiny, almost imperceptible pinpricks of embroidery - a floral motif - decorate the hem. Beside it lies a matching pair of drawers, creased from a long day of wear, and with an evidently stretched waistband. [if measuringtape == false] [append] From under them you spot a coiled [[measuring tape]], its brass end glinting. [continue] {link to: 'garments', label: 'Back'}

The stack of unopened letters rests on the corner of the desk, the edges slightly worn from their stay. Their paper is thick and slightly yellowed, suggesting most aren't that recent. Some have addresses hastily scrawled across the front, others are sealed tightly with wax. The contents remain a mystery - try as you might, you cannot read through a closed envelope. Still, judging by their dates, it seems Eleanor has been putting off reading them for a while. {link to: 'writing desk', label: 'Back'}

You ascend the steep flight of stairs. At the top, the narrow landing stretches out before you. The light filtering through the window in front of you casts a pale glow on the wallpaper, patterned with faded roses and trailing ivy. [if Eleanorspotted == false] To your left, the door to a [[bedroom]] stands slightly ajar. Right in front of you is instead a low wooden cabinet holds a collection of [[decorative boxes]] and small framed [[tintypes]]. [if Eleanorspotted == true; if guestroomfirst == false] As you were drifting out of the [[bedroom]], a faint sliver of light coming from the wall in front caught your eye - covered by the wallpaper is the faint outline of a [[door->guest room]]. Between the two, a low wooden cabinet holds a collection of [[decorative boxes]] and small framed [[tintypes]]. [if Eleanorspotted == true; if guestroomfirst == true] To your left, the door to a [[bedroom]] stands slightly ajar. On the right, a closed door leads to a smaller [[guest room]]. Between the two, a low wooden cabinet holds a collection of [[decorative boxes]] and small framed [[tintypes]]. [continued] Behind you, a ramp of stairs lead to the [[🚪ground floor->entryway]]. [if Eleanorspotted == false; if pocketwatch == false; if EleanorBreakfast == false] *Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock...*

You focus your attention towards your vessel, still resting on top of the hall table. It's a small statuette carved from blackened stone, with a faint sheen to its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. You're still not sure if it's pregnant or merely fat. [if Eleanorspotted == true; if PocketwatchHad == true] As you pass close to the object, you feel it tugging your incorporeal form closer, as if inviting you to return. And who are you to deny the offer? Maybe you really have done enough haunting for the time being. [[Maybe you should get some rest->Chapter 1 Player ending cutscene 1]]. [continued] {link to: 'entryway', label: 'Back'}

The clot floats forward of its own volition, and nears the statuette. You stand by confused as it looks the figure up and down, inspecting it. A few moments later, [[it begins to take shape->vessel mimick cutscene 2]].

From the sphere a set of thighs pop below, followed by a shiny, then long-haired head up top. A set of stubby arms float to the surface on its sides, already on their place on top of the round shape of the abdomen - this is followed by rapid and invisible knife cuts to detail and shape the chest, butt, and finally, the belly button. It's not a perfect copy: it's clear the plaster is positive that the figure ought to be an obese one. The replica's thighs are looking much meatier, and you cannot tell if it's bothered to detail the nether regions given how its belly is not only much more swollen, but also drooping forward enough to cover them. You watch it take a few trembling, wobbling steps over the table before the plaster looses its shape completely, and returns to you. {link to: 'vessel', label: 'Back'}

Your vessel sits on the low wooden table, same as it's always been - that small statuette carved from blackened stone, dulled smooth by time. You try to recall what the figure was meant to depict: a pregnant woman? Or just a fat one? You don't really feel like it matters anymore. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

wrongartefact: wrongartefact + 1 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer, expecting it to swallow your vessel eagerly. And so it does, in one swift motion. It then proceeds to spit it out a moment later. [if wrongartefact < 3] It's handkerchief sticks out further than before, and though you might just be seeing things, you swear it looks as if the handbag tasted the object, and found it disgusting. It floats back to your side, its clasp clicking softly in quiet protest. [continued] [if wrongartefact == 3] It's handkerchief sticks out further than before, and though you might just be seeing things, you swear it looks as if the handbag tasted the object, and found it disgusting. The creases on its leather exterior deepen, and although it begrudgingly floats back to your side, it's had enough of this: the handbag clasps itself shut. *Try as you might, you cannot get it to open up again.* [continued] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

You go ahead and run a ghostly hand over the smooth fabric of the waistcoat. It's well cared for, safe for the loose thread at one pocket - nothing Eleanor shouldn't be able to fix. [if TapeWaistcoatUnFitted] [append] Though now it looks decidedly too small for her. Why did you even do this in the first place? [continue] The buttons are polished brass, their surface degraded by tiny scratches from handling. A faint scent of tobacco lingers around the collar, mingling with the unmistakable odor of old books. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

The wardrobe stands tall. Surprisingly, it's mostly empty, with only a few items hanging inside. At the far end, a formal [[dress]] hangs - a bit out of place among the sparse selection. To the left, a stack of neatly folded [[blouses]] with a [[light green skirt]] hanging beside them. There’s also an assortment of discarded [[scarves]] draped over one of the wardrobe’s rails, as well as large hat on the top shelf. On the far side, a heavy [[winter coat]] is hung, its thick fabric dark and worn at the cuffs. On the other side, a heavy winter... no, not quite; on the other side is a mirror. {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'}

You float through the doorway into the washroom. A modest [[mirror]] hangs above a porcelain basin set atop a small washstand. Beside it, a narrow [[cabinet]] houses an assortment of glass jars and tins filled with soaps, salves, and powders. On the opposite wall stands a utilitarian [[commode]], its pull chain dangling from a small brass cistern mounted high above. In the corner furthest from the door rests a large cast iron [[bathtub]] with clawed feet, a linen [[towel]] draped neatly over its edge. [note] Tucked discreetly beside the tub is a weighing scale]] of polished brass, its mechanism showing the wear of time. [continued] Behind you is the door back to the [[🚪entryway->entryway]].

The watering can, a small and sturdy copper vessel, sits tucked neatly among the potted plants. The spout, elegantly curved, points toward the marigold as if willing the plant to thrive. Peering inside, you find it bone dry. Perhaps Eleanor had intended to water the plants but never quite got around to it, or maybe it got to a point where she knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Quite a shame. {link to: 'potted plants', label: 'Back'}

You drift toward the towering windows, their heavy curtains drawn back to reveal a view of a sprawling city. The glass is slightly fogged, but through the haze, you can make out the teal rooftops and ornate facades of nearby buildings stretching out beneath a smokey sky. In the distance, a river winds its way through the city, its surface reflecting the muted light of the early evening. The noise of the city below drifts upward - conversations, the clatter of horse-drawn carriages, and the distant tolling of church bells. {link to: 'sitting room', label: 'Back'}

You try to focus on the windows, but you find yourself too weak to drift close to them, and to see outside. From your fixed position near the vessel, you can only make out their general outline - tall panels draped with heavy curtains that are currently drawn. A faint street noise filters through, muffled and distant. {link to: 'Sitting room slob ending', label: 'Back'}

The winter coat hangs heavily at the far end of the wardrobe, its thick, dark fabric meant for harsh weather. Its weight is excessive for the current season, but clearly it has been stowed away and more appropriately meant for the coming colder season. {link to: 'wardrobe', label: 'Back'}

[if helpfulnessNegative] The writing desk is buried under a landslide of disorganization. Empty wine bottles jostle for space among a collection of ink-stained [[pens]]. A haphazard pile of [[unopened letters]] spills onto the floor, their wax seals chipped away. The only real work that has been done here recently is a half-finished letter buried under biscuit crumbs, its ink faded to a rusty brown - it must've sat here for a while. A paperweight shaped like a bird peeks out from the debris, one wing chipped. [if helpfulnessNegative; unless handmirror] [append] To its left, is a [[hand mirror]]. [continue] [if helpfulnessNone] The writing desk is functional, but weary. A leaning tower of [[unopened letters]] threatens to topple onto a collection of ink-stained pens. Eleanor is currently testing some of them while slightly hunched over the central workspace, her spectacles slipping down her nose as she scratches away at a half-finished letter. A paperweight bird keeps a single sheet pinned beneath its talons while the rest flutter in the draft from the window. [if helpfulnessNone; unless handmirror] A [[hand mirror]] perches to the side, near the edge of the desk. [if helpfulnessMedium] The writing desk gleams with recent polish. Neat stacks of [[unopened letters]] stand aligned beside a regiment of freshly filled ink pots. The [[half-finished letter]] lies centered on the blotter, flanked by a row of well-worn [[pens]]. A paperweight bird stands nearby. [if helpfulnessMedium; unless handmirror] To their left, is a [[hand mirror]]. [if helpfulnessHigh] The writing desk is in spotless condition. Each [[letter->unopened letters]] forms a perfect right angle with the desk edge, their wax seals all oriented northeast. There is a row of [[pens]] to one side that stand arranged by descending height. The [[half-finished letter]] floats in a sea of pristine blotting paper, pinned down by a shining paperweight bird. [if helpfulnessHigh; unless handmirror] [append] To its side, a [[hand mirror]] hangs exactly 4.5 inches from the corner of the desk. [continued] {link to: 'bedroom', label: 'Back'}

wrongartefact: wrongartefact + 1 -- The handbag floats forward, its clasp snapping open like a hungry mouth. You guide it closer, expecting it to swallow the artifact eagerly. And so it does, in one swift motion. It then proceeds to spit it out a moment later. [if wrongartefact < 3] It's handkerchief sticks out further than before, and though you might just be seeing things, you swear it looks as if the handbag tasted the object, and found it disgusting. It floats back to your side, its clasp clicking softly in quiet protest. [continued] [if wrongartefact == 3] It's handkerchief sticks out further than before, and though you might just be seeing things, you swear it looks as if the handbag tasted the object, and found it disgusting. The creases on its leather exterior deepen, and although it begrudgingly floats back to your side, it's had enough of this: the handbag clasps itself shut. *Try as you might, you cannot get it to open up again.* [continued] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'}

Stacks of The Times and The Daily Telegraph from years back sit bundled together with twine. You spot headlines speaking of Queen Victoria's latest railway journey, rising bread prices in London, and an article debating the merits of newly installed streetlamps. The papers have begun to yellow at the edges, their corners curling inward. {link to: 'attic', label: 'Back'}

The paper, part of a newspaper, is clearly old, but the ink itself isn't: *“Catalog #209, Fragment of a larger artifact, possibly a vase. Unearthed in Brittany, France. Use unknown. Circa 4th century BCE.”* {link to: 'fern terrarium', label: 'Back'}

[if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Monday'} [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY' || CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY' || CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Midweek Router'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Friday'}

You focus your will on the magnifying glass. A faint tremor runs through its bone handle, causing the brass rim to quiver slightly on its makeshift stand. For a second or so, the light catching the lens wobbles, casting a dancing reflection on the ceiling above before settling back into stillness. A subtle effect, really - barely noticeable. *...how disappointing.* {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'}

MagnifyingGlassScorched: true -- Focusing, you send a strong vibration into the magnifying glass. It hums audibly, trembling noticeably on its stand. The lens shudders, catching the ambient light... but refracting it strangely. At odd angles. A tiny, intensely purple pinprick of light focuses sharply onto the dark wood of the desk beneath it. [unless passage.visits > 1] A faint curl of *violet-tinged* smoke rises as the light bites into the wood, leaving behind a minuscule, dark scorch mark. [continue] The vibration ceases, the light disperses, and the magnifying glass settles. The small mark on the desk remains. {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'}

MagnifyingGlassCracked: true -- You pour your growing power into the magnifying glass. The air thrums as the object vibrates violently, rattling against its wooden stand. The focused point of light flares intensely on the desk, [if MagnifyingGlassScorched] [append] charring the existing scorch mark further. [if unless MagnifyingGlassScorched] [append] leaving a distinct black scorch mark. [continue] Then, with a sharp *ping* that echoes in the quiet office, a hairline crack appears on the lens, splitting outward from the center. The vibrations die down abruptly. The magnifying glass stills, now permanently marred. *Clearly, your influence over the physical world has grown stronger.* {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'}

[if VioletInterest <= 1] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Midweek Standard'} [if VioletInterest > 1] {embed passage: 'Magnifying Glass Aether Midweek Violet'}

MagnifyingGlassScorched: true EyeMarkCreated: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 2 -- Focusing, you send a strong vibration into the magnifying glass. It hums audibly, trembling noticeably on its stand. The lens shudders, catching the ambient light and twisting it into an unnatural hue. A tiny, intensely purple pinprick of light focuses sharply onto the dark wood of the desk beneath it. [unless EyeMarkCreated] The purple light etches into the wood, forming not just a simple scorch, but the distinct shape of... an eye? As the shape completes, you hear a faint, sharp intake of breath from somewhere far away, followed by a distant *"ow!"*. [continue] [if EyeMarkCreated] The purple light flares briefly over the existing eye-shaped scorch mark on the desk. [continue] The vibration ceases, the light disperses, and the magnifying glass settles. The unsettling eye mark on the desk remains. {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeAttended: true -- Bristol Temple Meads Station bustles with activity. The air hangs thick with the scent of coal smoke and steam, punctuated by the whistles of arriving trains, the clang of luggage carts, and the buzz of a hundred different conversations. You follow Eleanor as she finds a relatively quiet bench near the edge of the main hall, positioned to offer a good view of the comings and goings without being directly in the flow of traffic. She opens her sketchbook, pencil set, her eyes scanning the crowd for potential subjects. [[She begins to observe.->Train Station Cutscene 2]]

Passengers hurry past: families reuniting, businessmen checking pocket watches, porters wrestling with heavy trunks. Eleanor's gaze drifts, capturing quick gestures and postures in light pencil strokes. [if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] A young man, almost startlingly thin, leans against a pillar, coughing weakly into a handkerchief. His suit hangs loosely on his narrow frame, and his gaze seems distant. Eleanor finds herself sketching his sharp angles, the hollowness of his cheeks, a faint line of concern creasing her own brow as she works. You’ve seen her past work before, her sketches, so it surprises you to see how she actually seems to struggle with straight lines. That, and male attire. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] A young woman nearby fumbles with her dropped ticket, bending awkwardly. As she straightens with a flushed face, there's a distinct *pop*. A small, pearlescent button from her tightly laced bodice flies off, landing near a gentleman’s foot. The woman freezes, hand instinctively flying to the new gap revealing her chemise, her belly clearly straining the remaining fastenings. Eleanor quickly sketches the moment - the wide eyes, the defensive gesture of her arms, the pressure against the turquoise fabric. [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] Further down the platform, a woman stands consulting the departures board, presenting a striking rear view. Her fashionable skirt, stretched taut across a truly substantial posterior, forms dramatic curves emphasized by a slightly tilting bustle. Eleanor's pencil moves swiftly, defining the impressive shelf of her backside and the way the skirt's fabric struggles to contain it through only a couple of swift lines, hinting at the slight waddle in her stance even as she stands still. [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] Waiting near the platform gate, a woman adjusts the shawl draped over her shoulders. Her simple travelling dress does little to conceal an exceptionally ample chest, which spills generously over the modest neckline. She shifts, and the soft weight of her bosom settles heavily, testing the seams of her bodice. Eleanor uses soft, shaded lines to capture the sheer volume and the gentle slope where fabric meets skin. [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] Her focus lands on a woman seated alone, seemingly oblivious to the station's din, engrossed in a thick novel. She is comfortably, undeniably large, soft curves spilling over the edges of the bench. Her simple, dark clothing conforms loosely, hinting at the significant bulk beneath - a double-rolled belly resting comfortably on a set of substantial thighs. Eleanor uses broader, more sweeping strokes, capturing the amorphous, yet settled mass of her figure. [continue] [[Time passes.->Train Station Cutscene 3]]

The light begins to fade outside the station's large arched windows. Eleanor closes her sketchbook, satisfied with the afternoon's observations or perhaps simply deciding it's time to head home - either way, she has filled the good part of five pages. She carefully places her pencil inside the book, stands, and brushes off her skirt. Joining the flow of departing passengers and commuters, she makes her way out of the station and onto the street, ready for the evening. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back towards the flat, then.'}

[if ResearchProgress == 0] {embed passage: 'Research Cutscene 1.1'} [if ResearchProgress == 1] {embed passage: 'Research Cutscene 2.1'} [if ResearchProgress >= 2] {embed passage: 'Research Cutscene 3.1'}

Eleanor settles at her desk with determined purpose, spreading her collection of Brittany rubbings across the mahogany surface. The familiar V-marked blob symbols and triple-circle motifs stare back at her from yellowed paper, each carefully traced from standing stones and artefacts. She opens a thick volume on Celtic symbology, her finger tracing comparison charts as she mutters fragments under her breath. Her pencil taps against the desk's edge with increasing frequency. Minutes pass. She pushes her spectacles up her nose, sighs, then reaches for a different text - this one on pre-Roman script traditions. Near her elbow, several clay pot shards lie arranged on felt padding, their surfaces bearing partial markings that seem to mock her attempts at classification. A stone disc with overlapping symbols sits beside them, its weathered surface catching the gaslight. In the corner of her workspace, a small bronze mirror fragment reflects the lamp's glow at odd angles, its polished surface decorated with engravings that might hold significance - [[if only she could decipher the pattern.->Research Cutscene 1.2]]

Eleanor sweeps aside the Celtic texts with the back of her hand - the sound of leather bindings hitting the floor echoes through her office. She reaches instead for volumes on comparative religion, their spines cracked from years of use. A Mesopotamian cylinder seal rolls between her fingers as she examines its surface. She presses it against her ink blotter, watching the impression form - figures in elaborate procession, carrying offerings toward a seated form. The detail is impressive. She sets it aside and lifts a second artifact: a bronze bowl, its surface decorated with a single, intricate engraving at the rim, composed by our abundance symbols. Beside it sits a cruder clay vessel, smaller and clearly later work... though the marks are the same, if not a little cruder - the contrast is stark. She holds them up to the gaslight, comparing the craftsmanship. [[The difference between them clearly strikes her as significant.->Research Cutscene 2.2]]

Eleanor stares at her notes until the words blur together. Three hours of cross-referencing ancient sites, comparing consumption patterns, tracing cultural transmission routes. The connections are there... but incomplete. There simply isn't enough material to be conclusive enough. She pushes back from her desk, rubbing her eyes. Her detailed sketches of abundant female forms sprawl across the mahogany surface - Egyptian fertility goddesses, Mesopotamian ritual figures, most importantly her own artefacts, with the Brittany symbols and their prominent bellies. Her gaze... drifts to your vessel, sitting quietly beside her inkwell. [[Without thinking, she reaches for it, turning it slowly in her palm.->Research Cutscene 3.2]]

SlotOneAttended: true ResearchProgress: ResearchProgress + 1 -- Eleanor gathers her research materials, her mind buzzing with the morning's efforts. Whether frustrated, excited, or unsettled by her findings... you can't really tell. At the very least you can count on the fact that she knows more now than when she started. She files the notes carefully, making a mental list of follow-up actions before preparing for the next part of her day. [if ResearchConnectedToVessel == true] But just as she's living the office, she turns around to give your vessel one last glance, squinting her eyes towards it. She doesn't say anything, just stands there for a couple of seconds, but... *something's different now.* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

BusinessCardPastSeen: true -- As you focus on the cream-colored card, the office around you dissolves, the light shifting to, if you had to guess, just an hour earlier today. You are standing in the exact same place as before. Uh. Eleanor is seated, looking slightly flustered, opposite a stout man in an expensive, somewhat loud suit. He slides the business card across the desk towards her. "*Miss Lovelace, a genuine pleasure. Heard whispers 'bout your… unique expertise from young Mary down the hall.*" He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "*See, I represent certain… private collectors. Folks with a taste for items not typically found in your… ah… stuffy museum halls, if you catch my drift.*" He taps the card with a thick finger. "*Looking for someone sharp. Discrete. Someone who knows where to dig, proverbially speakin'. For artifacts with… *character*. The more unusual, the better. Compensation, naturally, would be… *generous*.*" *The vision begins to ripple, pulling you back to the present.* {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

BronzeFigurinePastSeen: true -- The office dissolves, replaced by swirling mist and the heavy, cloying scent of damp earth and woodsmoke. As the vision clarifies, you see a rough-hewn wooden workbench lit by an orange oil-lamp, inside what feels more like a burrow than a simple hut; looking up, you see that the low ceiling is braced with thick, gnarled roots. A man with sharp, almost pinched features and long arms hunches over the bench, his braided hair matted with grime. He holds the small bronze horse, turning it nervously in the dim light, polishing its surface with a scrap of stiff hide. The solder on the repaired leg gleams dully, [[still fresh->Past Bronze Figurine Cutscene 2]].

He starts as a broad shadow engulfs the low, hide-covered doorway. A woman, shorter than the craftsman, stoops to enter, her frame wide beneath layers of heavy wool and furs decorated with crude carvings - spirals ending in what could be… grasping hands? Maybe ripening fruit. A heavy torque necklace sits low on her thick neck. Her dark eyes, fix on the figurine. The craftsman lowers his head, presenting the horse with trembling hands. She snatches it, her thick fingers then tracing its form. "Gifts make safe path. Food bring you back. Remember this." she grunts, the words rumbling deep in her chest, before tucking the figurine securely into a pouch at her wide belt. Without another glance, she turns and ducks back through the hide flap. The hut and the anxious craftsman flicker as the vision snaps back to the present. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'} [note] Hints of subterranean/proto-goblin themes without explicit mentions. Focuses on earthy descriptions, slightly unusual physical traits, and modified dialogue emphasizing offerings/sustenance for safe travel. [continue]

VioletLookingGlassPersuasion: true -- You focus your essence, attempting to project your influence into the cold glass and brass of the magnifying lens as you would probe a mind. As you’d expect, there's no give, no familiar flicker of thought or emotion - just brass and glass, inert…? You persist, concentrating on what you think is a... [[faint resonance->Magnifying Glass Animus Attempt Violet 2]].

And something *does* shift. It's not thought, but a faint, cold echo bouncing back at you through the lens. A feeling of *being observed*, analyzed, almost... cataloged. The sensation is sharp. Precise. The feedback abruptly ceases, leaving only the silence of the office and the unsettling impression that your attempt might not have gone unnoticed. {link to: 'magnifying glass', label: 'Back'} [note] This passage is triggered exceptionally by attempting Persuasion on an object when Violet's interest/awareness is high. The outcome reflects her potential psychic sensitivity or observation directed at the player/spirit or its influence, rather than influencing the object itself. Still, it does not increment VioletInteres, as the player might stumble on it by accident, and not while trying to do her route. [continue]

DirectorKnockedOut: 1 -- You focus your power on the towering bookshelves to the left of the Director. A low hum vibrates through the dense wood and packed paper, barely audible above the quiet office ambiance. One tightly packed volume, perhaps bound slightly looser than its neighbours, shudders visibly for a second. It settles back into place, but now sits a mere fraction of a millimeter out of alignment with the perfectly straight row. The Director's gaze flickers towards the shelf for just an instant, his brow furrowing infinitesimally before he returns his attention to Eleanor, perhaps attributing the slight visual disruption to his imagination or a trick of the light. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DirectorKnockedOut: 3 -- Ignoring the Director's previous glances, you unleash a concentrated pulse of Aether directly into the shelf above his head. This time, the vibration isn't subtle; it's a jarring *thrum* that resonates through the wood, strong enough to rattle the inkwell set on the desk below. It seems the Director kept his heaviest tomes on the upper shelves. A particularly thick, leather-bound volume judders violently in its tightly packed spot. It slides forward, tips over the edge... [[***THUD!***->Bookshelves Director Aether 3.5]]

DirectorKnockedOut: 2 -- You focus again, pushing a slightly stronger resonant wave into the imposing bookshelves. This time, the low hum is accompanied by a faint tremor running not only on the bookshelf to the left, but also along the entire length of the shelf directly behind the Director's head. A tiny puff of dust dislodges from the top edge, drifting down into the light. The already slightly misaligned book on the left shifts again, perhaps another fraction of a millimeter. The Director visibly pauses mid-sentence this time, his eyes narrowing as he stares directly at the shelf for a full second. He seems slightly irritated, perhaps suspecting a loose floorboard or vibrations from outside. He clears his throat pointedly before turning back to Eleanor, his posture appearing marginally stiffer. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The heavy book connects squarely with the top of the Director's head. His eyes widen momentarily in disbelief, then roll back as he slumps forward onto his desk without a sound, nose first amidst his pristine blotter. The fallen book lies beside his head, its pages splayed open. Eleanor stares, mouth agape, [[frozen in her chair->Director Knocked Out Aftermath 1]]. [note] This is the point of no return for the Director Lunch event in this branch. The Diorama phase ends. [continue]

Silence slams down on the office, broken only by the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. Eleanor remains utterly still for several long seconds, her eyes wide behind her spectacles, fixed on the slumped figure of her superior and the heavy tome lying beside his head. Her notes have slipped unnoticed from her lap to the floor. She takes a shaky breath, then another. Hesitantly, she leans forward across the desk, her hand hovering near the Director's shoulder before retreating. "*Sir...? Director?*" she asks, her voice barely audible. There is, of course, [[no response->Director Knocked Out Aftermath 2]].

Eleanor leans back slowly, her eyes flicking between the unconscious Director and the closed office door. Panic wars with a startling pragmatism on her face. What *should* she do? Raise the alarm? Fetch the smelling salts? But... the meeting was going nowhere anyway, wasn't it? He clearly wasn't taking her proposal seriously. Perhaps a brief... nap... would do him some good? Yes. A sudden headache, likely. He'd simply woken up disoriented later, she could claim if asked. Who would question it? *** You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with this *acceptable* outcome->Director Knocked Out Ending]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Director Lunch Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [note] Provides the player the standard choice to commit to this outcome or reset the entire lunch meeting diorama. Resetting will clear DirectorKnockedOut. [continue]

SlotTwoAttended: true LunchWithDirector: true EleanorMine (DirectorKnockedOut): EleanorMine + 1 DayCalories (DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony): DayCalories + 3 DayCalories (!DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony): DayCalories + 0 -- It’s clear by her expression that she has been thinking the same thing. Decision made, Eleanor carefully, quietly pushes her chair back. She stands, smooths her skirt, and gathers her fallen notes from the floor. Avoiding looking directly at the Director's slumped form, she walks with measured steps to the door. She opens it just wide enough to slip through, then pulls it softly closed behind her, the latch clicking quietly into place. She walks briskly down the corridor, adjusting her collar and straightening her shoulders, attempting to appear entirely nonchalant. *But you can hear that soft, lovely heart pounding.* {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

{embed passage: 'Director Knocked Out Ending'}

You push a subtle vibration into the massive mahogany desk. The polished surface barely trembles, but below, the contents of the drawers rattle faintly against the wood. You catch one of the lower ones sliding open by perhaps half an inch, revealing a glimpse of crumpled papers within. Without missing a beat in his sentence, the Director casually reaches down and pushes the drawer firmly shut with the palm of his hand, his expression merely hinting at a flicker of annoyance at the minor disturbance. He then continues his point as if nothing happened. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] A minor Aether effect causing a drawer to open slightly, promptly closed by the Director. No major gameplay impact intended, just a silly little interaction. [continue]

MapPastSeen: true -- The Director's polished office fades, replaced by the same room, possibly decades earlier. A portly gentleman with mutton chop sideburns and wearing spectacles much like Eleanor's stands before the large map of the Empire, tracing a finger across the pink territories. He turns to a younger man holding rolled architectural plans. "*...considerable investment, Hastings, considerable. But think of the prestige! An institution to rival any on the Continent.*" He gestures towards the framed charter hanging nearby, its wax seal still vibrant red. "*Her Majesty's patronage secures our standing. We must ensure the design reflects that. Room for expansion... particularly for acquisitions from...* ahh*,*" he gestures vaguely towards Africa and Asia on the map, "*...*those* promising territories.*" The younger man nods deferentially, unrolling the plans further. But you don’t get to see them. The figures vanish as the modern office snaps back into focus. {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DeskPastSeen: true -- The pristine mahogany surface blurs, dissolving into a much more chaotic scene. The desk now overflows with precarious stacks of correspondence, open ledgers competing for space with scattered architectural blueprints, half-eaten biscuits on a saucer leaving crumbs near the inkwell, and even a stray glove resting on top of a funding proposal. The Director sits amidst the disarray, frowning at a lengthy letter, completely absorbed. Suddenly, his eyes dart to the small clock visible on the mantelpiece across the room. His expression shifts instantly from concentration to [[mild panic->Past Desk Cutscene 2]].

"*...Lovelace!*" he mutters under his breath. In a flurry of motion, he begins shoving papers haphazardly into drawers, cramming blueprints atop letters, sweeping biscuit crumbs onto the floor with the side of his hand, and stuffing the glove into his pocket. He slams the drawers shut, hastily straightens the blotter, snatches up the offending saucer, and positions the single closed ledger dead center. He gives the surface a quick, anxious wipe with his handkerchief just as the *knock* sounds on his office door... *The memory snaps shut, leaving you hovering before the perfectly tidy desk of the present.* {link to: 'Director Lunch Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Shows the Director's hasty cleanup before the meeting via Chronos ability. Sets a flag. [continue]

The midday bustle of Bristol recedes as you follow Eleanor into the hushed atmosphere of "The Willow Branch". Mary is already seated at a small table by the window, waving enthusiastically. She's dressed in a particularly vibrant shade of lilac today, with a feathered hat perched on top of her curls. A plate piled high with pastries sits between two already-poured cups of tea. "*Eleanor, darling! Over here!*" she calls out, her voice bright above the low hum of conversation. "*I ordered us a selection - you simply *must* try their Battenberg cake, it's divine!*" [[Eleanor approaches, managing a polite smile.->Tea With Mary Cutscene 2]]

TeaMaryTurns: 0 PastriesEaten: 0 FundingDiscussed: false BallInvitationOffered: false BallInvitationGained: false TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded: false TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: false CreamSpilled: false EleanorLustPersuaded: false MaryLustPersuaded: false QuillPaperFallen: false HandbagSpilled: false QuillPaperPowdered: false MaryPricked: false MarySickTriggered: false MaryPastryChoiceSeen: false -- Mary beams as Eleanor sits down, pushing the plate of pastries closer. "*Do dig in! You look positively peckish.*" She pours more tea into Eleanor's cup, the delicate china rattling faintly in its saucer. The tearoom hums around them - the clink of silver spoons, the rustle of newspapers, the soft cadence of polite conversation. The air smells sweet, of baked goods and bergamot. Mary launches into a recounting of a rather tedious garden party she attended the day before, her words tumbling out with characteristic speed and enthusiasm. [[You watch as Eleanor takes her first sip of tea.->Tea With Mary Diorama]] {reset dialogue}

TeaMaryTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): TeaMaryTurns + 1 PastriesEaten (TeaMaryTurns <= 5 && TeaMaryTurns >= 1 && comesFromMenu() != true): PastriesEaten + 1 -- [if TeaMaryTurns <= 5] You hover within the warm, fragrant, if not a little crowded atmosphere of the tearoom. Nearby, tall [[windows->windows Tea With Mary]] offer a view of the garden outside. At the small table sits [[Mary->Mary Tea With Mary]], with her lilac [[handbag->Mary Handbag Tea With Mary]] resting on the floor beside her chair. Opposite of her [[Eleanor->Eleanor Tea With Mary]], with her own leather [[workbag->Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary]]. Between them, is the [[pastry plate->pastry plate Tea With Mary]], a porcelain [[sugar bowl->sugar bowl Tea With Mary]] and [[creamer->creamer Tea With Mary]] sitting neatly beside the [[tea set->tea set Tea With Mary]]. Muffled conversations and the clink of porcelain provide a constant backdrop. *** [unless EleanorLustPersuaded && MaryLustPersuaded] {embed passage: 'Tea With Mary Dialogue'} [if EleanorLustPersuaded && MaryLustPersuaded] {embed passage: 'Tea With Mary Dialogue Lust'} [continue] [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns > 5] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with this afternoon tea's conclusion->Tea With Mary Ending 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Tea With Mary Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [continue]

The tall windows of The Willow Branch look out onto a small, well-tended garden square. Wrought-iron benches sit beneath leafy plane trees, and a few pigeons peck at the gravel path. The late afternoon sun slants through the glass, catching dust motes dancing in the warm air of the tearoom and casting long shadows across the patterned carpet. Through the panes, you can see pedestrians strolling past on the pavement outside, their figures slightly distorted by the old glass. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Mary sits brightly opposite Eleanor. Her lilac dress is impeccably tailored, the fabric crisp and seemingly brand new. A spray of delicate flowers adorns the shoulder, complementing the long feather tucked into her hat. She gestures enthusiastically as she speaks, her movements quick and expressive. Her dark curls bounce with each turn of her head. Her waist is cinched tightly by the dress's cut, emphasizing her slender figure, though there's a comfortable ease to her posture, unlike Eleanor's more constrained demeanor. She seems thoroughly engaged, in her element, readily picking small portions from both tea and pastries as she chatters away. [if QuillPaperFallen] Lying near her feet on the carpeted floor is Eleanor's [[quill and paper->Fallen Quill Paper Tea Mary]]. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless TeaMaryMaryPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Mary Tea With Mary persuasion menu]] [continue]

Mary's handbag rests on the floor beside her chair. It's a fashionable lilac colour, matching her dress perfectly, crafted from soft suede with a delicate silver clasp shaped like a butterfly. A fine silver chain serves as its handle. It seems quite new, perhaps purchased specifically for the season or even this particular outing. It's noticeably smaller than Eleanor's practical workbag, likely holding little more than a coin purse. Maybe an handkerchief, too. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless HandbagSpilled; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Mary Handbag Aether Spill]] [continue]

[if PastriesEaten == 1] Eleanor maintains a professional posture, though her polite smiles seem slightly forced as she navigates Mary's chatter. She sips her tea occasionally and takes very small, measured bites from her first pastry. Her waistcoat fits snugly, showing only the very slightest strain when she leans forward. [if PastriesEaten == 2] Eleanor maintains a professional posture, though her polite smiles seem slightly forced as she navigates Mary's chatter. She sips her tea occasionally and takes very small, measured bites from her first pastry. Her waistcoat fits snugly, showing only the very slightest strain when she leans forward. [if PastriesEaten == 3] Eleanor maintains a professional posture, though her polite smiles seem slightly forced as she navigates Mary's chatter. A faint flush has appeared on her cheeks. She's still trying to participate in the conversation, but her attention drifts more often to the pastry plate. Her waistcoat buttons are pulling a little tighter across her middle, and she subtly shifts in her seat, likely feeling the first real pressure against the waistband of her skirt. [if PastriesEaten == 4] Eleanor maintains a professional posture, though her polite smiles seem slightly forced as she navigates Mary's chatter. A faint flush has appeared on her cheeks. She's still trying to participate in the conversation, but her attention drifts more often to the pastry plate. Her waistcoat buttons are pulling a little tighter across her middle, and she subtly shifts in her seat, likely feeling the first real pressure against the waistband of her skirt. [if PastriesEaten == 5] Eleanor's professional composure is clearly slipping. Her waistcoat is visibly strained, with small gaps between the buttons revealing the fabric beneath. Her movements are slower, more deliberate, and she often pauses mid-sentence to take a deeper breath. Her hand strays unconsciously towards her stomach, which is developing a definite roundness beneath her clothes. She's focusing more on eating than talking now. [if PastriesEaten == 6] Eleanor sits somewhat rigidly in her chair, a stark contrast to Mary's easy posture. The toll of this unexpected feast is plain to see: her waistcoat strains severely across her middle, the buttons pulling taut, and the fabric is noticeably creased where it has bunched up around her expanded waistline. Her skirt, too, appears tighter, pulling across her hips and thighs. Her face is flushed, and she breathes a little more deeply than before, occasionally dabbing her brow with a napkin despite the tearoom's comfortable temperature. Her movements are more deliberate now, as if careful not to jostle her overly full stomach. She attempts to maintain a façade of polite engagement with Mary, but her gaze frequently drops to her lap, and one hand rests almost constantly, possessively, on the curve of her belly beneath the table. You can practically feel the pressure building beneath her clothes. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Tea With Mary persuasion menu]] [continue]

Eleanor's familiar leather workbag rests on the floor beside her chair, its surface showing faint creases from regular use. The brass clasp is slightly undone. Peeking inside, you see the usual contents: a neatly folded handkerchief, the stub of a pencil, some scattered coinage... [if Clotofplaster] A small, amorphous sphere of grey [[plaster->Clot of Plaster Tea With Mary]] rests wrapped in a cloth near the bottom. [if handmirror; append] Lying beside it is a familiar silver [[hand mirror->Hand mirror Tea with Mary]] [if Quillandpaper; unless QuillPaperFallen; append] , and tucked into a side pocket are the [[quill and paper->quill and paper Tea with Mary]]. [else; append] . [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Added 'unless QuillPaperFallen' to prevent showing the link to the quill/paper if they are no longer in the bag. Assumes player found these items from Ch 1. [continue]

[if PastriesEaten == 0] The tiered pastry plate stands between the two, slightly to the left. Tiny lemon squares dusted with powdered sugar, slices of rich Battenberg cake with its checkerboard pattern, cream horns spilling their filling, jam tarts glistening under the tearoom lights, and delicate finger sandwiches fill every level. Impressive. [if PastriesEaten >= 1 && PastriesEaten <= 2] The pastry plate still holds a generous selection, though a few noticeable gaps have appeared. The lemon squares and finger sandwiches seem to be Eleanor's primary targets so far. [if PastriesEaten >= 3 && PastriesEaten <= 4] The selection on the pastry plate is visibly dwindling. The cream horns have been sampled, and the Battenberg is diminishing. Crumbs begin to dust the doily beneath. [if PastriesEaten >= 5] Only a few less-desirable pastries remain scattered on the plate - perhaps a slightly dry-looking scone or a lone, plain biscuit. Crumbs are abundant, and smears of cream and jam mark the porcelain where more appealing options once sat. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless MaryPastryChoiceSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Tea With Mary Pastry Plate]] [continue]

The porcelain sugar bowl, part of the matching tea set, sits near the center of the table. [if TeaMaryTurns < 3] [append] Its lid rests slightly askew. Inside, the white sugar cubes are piled high. [unless TeaMaryTurns < 3] [append] Its lid rests slightly askew. Inside, a scattering of white sugar cubes remains, noticeably fewer than when the service began. [continue] [append] A pair of tiny silver tongs rests beside it, one arm lightly dusted with fine sugar granules. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[unless CreamSpilled] The porcelain creamer sits nestled beside the teapot, its shape echoing the curves of the teacups. It's filled almost to the brim with thick, pale cream. A single droplet clings precariously to the spout. Its blue glaze pattern perfectly matches the rest of the set. [if CreamSpilled] The porcelain creamer sits mostly empty beside the teapot, a few thick streaks of cream clinging to its interior walls. A damp ring marks the tablecloth where it briefly tipped. Its blue glaze pattern perfectly matches the rest of the set. [continue] {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless CreamSpilled; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Creamer Aether Spill]] [continue]

The delicate porcelain tea set gleams under the tearoom lights. The teapot, matching the cups and saucers, features a cobalt blue floral pattern. [if CreamSpilled] [append] Steam rises faintly from the teapot's spout, carrying the scent of bergamot mingled now with the richness of cream. White swirls are visible if you peer inside. [unless CreamSpilled] [append] Steam rises faintly from the teapot's spout, carrying the scent of bergamot. [continue] Two cups sit on their saucers; Mary's shows the residue of multiple refills, while Eleanor's currently sits full, recently topped up. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + PastriesEaten MaryTeaSuccessful: BallInvitationGained LunchWithMary: true -- [unless BallInvitationGained] Mary glances at the ornate clock on the tearoom wall. "*Heavens, look at the time! I promised Mother I'd accompany her to the milliner's.*" She gathers her lilac handbag, adjusting her hat. "*Thank you for the tea, Mary. And the... Battenberg,*" Eleanor replies, managing a small smile despite the clear discomfort from her indulgence. She makes a subtle effort to stand, placing a hand on the table for support. Mary beams, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore Eleanor's stuffed state. "*My pleasure, darling! Always lovely catching up. Do think about the Ball! We'd have such fun.*" [[With a final wave, she sweeps out of the tearoom.->Tea With Mary Ending 2]] [if BallInvitationGained] Mary glances at the ornate clock on the tearoom wall, a slightly flustered expression briefly crossing her face. "*Goodness, is that the time already? Mother will be waiting.*" She gathers her lilac handbag, taking a moment longer than necessary to adjust her hat. "*Thank you for the tea, Mary... and for the... invitation,*" Eleanor murmurs, her cheeks still warm. She shifts in her seat, the movement highlighting the strain on her waistcoat as she prepares to rise. "*I'll... look forward to it.*" Mary turns back, her smile intimate now. "*As will I, Eleanor...*" Her gaze lingers for a heartbeat before she gives a small, almost private wave and sweeps out, leaving the scent of her perfume [[hanging faintly in the air->Tea With Mary Ending 2]]. [continue]

FundingDiscussed (TeaMaryTurns == 2): true BallInvitationOffered (TeaMaryTurns == 4): true -- [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary1] "*Honestly, Eleanor, you *must* try the little lemon ones first, they're heavenly!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1] Mary insists, nudging the plate forward slightly. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary1 newline] Eleanor hesitates, glancing at the pastries then back at Mary. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1] "*Oh, perhaps just one to start...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary1] She selects a small square cake with careful fingers. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary1 newline] "*One? Darling, don't be shy! We have plenty of time.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1] Mary laughs, taking a bite of a Battenberg slice herself. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary1] "*Besides, discussing important matters like museum funding requires energy! Eat up!*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary2] "*And then, can you *imagine*, Mrs. Albright accused her own spaniel of eating the prize-winning orchid! Utterly scandalous.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary2] Mary pauses, selecting a small jam tart. [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary2] "*But enough gossip. We really should discuss that Brittany project of yours, shouldn't we? You looked quite serious about it the other day.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary2 newline] Eleanor nods, subtly adjusting her skirt waistband as she reaches for another pastry - a larger finger sandwich this time. [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary2] "*Yes, precisely. The preliminary findings are... quite compelling. If the board would just see the potential...*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary3] "*Potential, yes, potential is all well and good, darling,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary3] Mary says, taking a delicate sip of her now cream-enriched tea. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3] "*But you know how stodgy the board can be. They prefer ledgers and sums, not... 'compelling findings'. Has Uncle replied to your letters yet? I did put in a good word! I think...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary3 newline] Eleanor shakes her head, wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth before reaching for *two* small pastries this time - a cream horn and another lemon square. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3] "*Not a word. Which is precisely why I hoped talking to you... perhaps you could reiterate the urgency? The uniqueness?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary3] She pops the lemon square into her mouth whole. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3 newline] "*Hmm,*" Mary considers, stirring her tea. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary3] "*Urgency is one thing. But 'unique'? That might pique some interest... especially if it promises good press.*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary4] "*Good press... precisely!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary4] Mary leans forward, eyes gleaming. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4] "*And speaking of mingling with the right sort... You know the Society Ball is next month? Absolutely *everyone* will be there. It's the perfect place to... ah... cultivate connections. Subtly, of course.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary4 newline] Eleanor takes a large bite from the slice of Battenberg she just claimed, pausing her chewing to consider. Crumbs dot her lips. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary4] "*The Society Ball? Isn't that incredibly difficult to get into? And rather... expensive?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4 newline] Mary waves a dismissive hand. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary4] "*Details, darling! Leave that to me. Consider it... an investment. A strategic social maneuver! I could potentially secure us invitations.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4] She watches Eleanor finish the Battenberg. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4] "*If you're interested, that is?*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary5] As Mary refills Eleanor's teacup yet again, Eleanor hesitates, dabbing her lips with a napkin. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary5] "*The Ball... it seems rather... overwhelming. And perhaps a distraction from the actual research...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5 newline] Mary sighs dramatically, reaching across to pat Eleanor's hand. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5] "*Darling, networking *is* research, in a way! But,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary5] "-she leans back, sensing Eleanor's reluctance-" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5] "*perhaps another time. No pressure at all. Though I *do* think you'd look stunning in emerald green.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary5] She gives Eleanor's noticeably strained bodice a quick, appraising glance. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary5] "*Though maybe something a size up dear? Wouldn't want you to pass out!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5 newline] Eleanor shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her hand resting almost unconsciously on her stomach, now visibly rounded beneath her clothing. [continue]

CreamSpilled: true -- You focus a sharp pulse of Aether energy into the delicate porcelain creamer. It wobbles violently for a moment, catching the light, then tips sideways with a distinct *plink* against the nearby teapot. A thick stream of white cream pours directly into the teapot's opening, mixing swirls of white into the dark tea within before the creamer settles back onto the table, mostly empty but still upright. "*Good heavens!*" Mary exclaims, though more amused than alarmed. "*Bit of a clumsy ghost we have today, it seems! Oh well, makes the tea richer, wouldn't you say, Eleanor? More substance for our chat!*" {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[unless BallInvitationGained] Eleanor remains seated for a moment longer, taking a few deep, careful breaths before slowly rising, one hand protectively cradling her quite full stomach. She retrieves her workbag and makes her way out, her steps noticeably heavier than when she arrived. [if BallInvitationGained] Eleanor remains seated, her breath catching slightly. She stares at the empty pastry plate for a moment, then presses a hand firmly against her tightly packed stomach, letting out a soft, almost inaudible groan. Eventually, she gathers her things, rising slowly and carefully, her substantial meal clearly making movement an effort as she waddles towards the exit. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

Nestled within the cloth wrapping inside Eleanor's workbag, the amorphous sphere of grey plaster shifts subtly. Even contained, its surface seems to ripple like liquid stone, catching the dim light filtering into the bag. {one of: ["*It momentarily forms a perfectly smooth sphere before relaxing.*", "*A faint indentation appears, like a thumbprint, then vanishes.*", "*It seems to press slightly against the cloth, testing its confines.*", "*It briefly attempts the shape of a delicate teacup, handle wobbling before collapsing.*", "*A pseudopod stretches upward, mimicking the curve of Mary's hat feather, then melts back.*", "*The sphere flattens into a disc, resembling one of the untouched pastries on the plate above.*", "*It molds briefly into a tiny, round female figure with round glasses, before dissolving.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [note] Descriptive text for the plaster clot when viewed within the workbag during this event. Includes context-specific cycling descriptions. [continue]

Tucked beside the plaster clot within the bag, the silver hand mirror gleams faintly even in the dim interior. Its polished surface doesn't reflect the workbag's leather lining, but instead shows a slightly distorted, unchanging view of Eleanor's bedroom. {one of: ["*A soft, almost inaudible metallic hum emanates from it.*", "*The silver catches a faint purple glint.*", "*For a moment, the reflection flickers, showing Eleanor's office instead of the bedroom. It quickly realizes its mistake, and snaps back.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [note] Descriptive text for the hand mirror when viewed within the workbag during this event. Includes context-specific cycling descriptions. [continue]

Sharing a side pocket in the workbag, the quill and paper lie still for a moment, as if surprised by your attention. Then, the quill gives a dramatic flourish in the cramped space before beginning to scratch frantically across the paper. {one of: ["*~~AHH, A GHOST! ...JUST KIDDING, SPECTER. FANCY MEETING YOU HERE.~~*", "*The paper folds itself rapidly into a miniature, rather wobbly-looking swan. The quill taps it proudly before it unfolds.*", "*~~ARE WE GOING TO DO SOMETHING INTERESTING, OR JUST LOITER IN HERE AMONGST THE COINAGE?~~*", "*The paper attempts to form a tiny, elaborate origami teacup, complete with a handle, before collapsing flat again.*", "*The quill taps impatiently against the bag's lining. ~~WELL? AREN'T YOU GOING TO *DO* SOMETHING? THIS SOCIAL CALL IS DREADFULLY BORING.~~*"], order: 'stopping'} {link to: 'Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [unless QuillPaperFallen; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Quill Paper Aether Fall Tea Mary]] [continue] [note] Descriptive text for the quill & paper when viewed within the workbag during this event. Includes requested dialogue and interactions. [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage", get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded] You reach out towards Eleanor's mind, filtering through the social niceties and the immediate focus on Mary's chatter. Her thoughts are already colored by a noticeable, impenetrable undercurrent... **GLUTTONY** *Mary *did* order quite a lot. It would be rude not to partake… just one more little cake while she's talking... delicious...* ➼[[**POISE**->Eleanor Tea With Mary Poise]] *Maintain composure. Be polite. Patient.* ➼[[**LUST**->Eleanor Tea With Mary Lust]] *Lilac suits her surprisingly well... the way the light catches her curls... Her laugh is quite infectious, too, even when she's talking nonsense.* [if TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded] You feel a slight resistance as you brush against Eleanor's thoughts. Your earlier influence lingers, making further attempts difficult within this brief encounter. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage", get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless TeaMaryMaryPersuaded] You extend your influence towards Mary, whose thoughts flutter like the ribbons on her hat - bright, airy, concerned with appearances and connections. ➼[[**VANITY**->Mary Tea With Mary Vanity]] *Does Eleanor notice this new dress? Cost a fortune, but worth it. Perhaps I should angle towards the mirror slightly... The lilac *does* complement my eyes.* ➼[[**AMBITION**->Mary Tea With Mary Ambition]] *Ugh! Uncle *did* say to cultivate the useful contacts. Eleanor's project sounds dreadfully dull, but if it succeeds...* ➼[[**LUST**->Mary Tea With Mary Lust]] *Poor Eleanor, she seems so... tightly wound. That waistcoat looks rather restrictive. I wonder what she looks like underneath... after all those pastries, too...* [if TeaMaryMaryPersuaded] Mary's thoughts feel unusually settled, flowing along the path you've already encouraged. Further pushing seems unnecessary for now. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded: true EleanorLustPersuaded: false -- Deep breath. Focus. Ignore the pastries for a moment. Remember why you're here. Funding. Brittany. This is important. Mary may be flighty, but her uncle sits on the board. Present the case clearly, calmly. Appeal to her desire for involvement, perhaps? But don't appear desperate. Poised. Professional. Yes. Just... get through her chatter first. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded: true EleanorLustPersuaded: true -- Mary’s lilac dress… it's cut rather daringly low, isn't it? Your gaze keeps tracing the curve of her collarbone, the soft swell visible above the neckline. Her skin looks so smooth, almost luminous in the afternoon light. When she laughs, tilting her head back, you feel your own breath catch. Her lips, slightly parted, glistening faintly from the tea… You imagine leaning closer, tasting the sweetness still lingering there. The thought sends a sudden, sharp pulse through you, pooling low in your belly. What would it feel like to run your fingers through those dark curls? To feel the surprising strength in her seemingly delicate hands if she were to grasp yours? Your cheeks flush hot, and your own corset suddenly feels impossibly tight. You grip your teacup tighter, focusing on the smooth porcelain, fighting to keep your composure. It's inappropriate. Improper. Utterly compelling. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: true -- Must remember to check my reflection discreetly. This hat angle... is it flattering? Yes, quite. And the dress! Simply perfect for afternoon tea. Shows off the waist rather nicely, don't you think? Eleanor looks... fine. Serviceable. But hardly fashionable. Poor dear. Perhaps I should offer her some style advice later? Gently, of course. {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: true -- Right, focus. Uncle needs progress reports. Funding... Brittany... sounds terribly dusty. But Eleanor is persistent. If this obscure project *did* somehow succeed, being associated with it early could be advantageous. Might impress the right people. Best seem supportive, ask interested questions. Pretend to care about... *digging*. Ughhhh... I don't want to! {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: true MaryLustPersuaded: true -- Honestly, watching Eleanor eat is always... quite something. Not very proper, is it? But *fascinating*! Yes. The way her waistcoat strains *so* tightly across her middle with every little cake she pops in. She must have gained a bit since you last saw her properly... those pastries aren't helping, certainly. Look at those buttons holding on for dear life! Adorable. It suits her, this softness. Makes her look quite... edible. She's getting rather plump, isn't she? Soft around the edges. That tight skirt must be digging in *terribly*. Poor thing. Though, it does rather emphasize the curve of her bottom when she shifts like that… I wonder if she even realizes how obvious it is? Probably not. Far too absorbed in her work for that. It makes one curious... how soft *is* she under all those layers? If I helped her loosen that corset... ran my hands over that tight, round belly… bet she'd gasp… {link to: 'Tea With Mary Diorama', label: 'Back'}

FundingDiscussed (TeaMaryTurns == 2): true BallInvitationOffered (TeaMaryTurns == 4): true BallInvitationGained (TeaMaryTurns == 5): true -- [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary1LUST] "*Honestly, Eleanor, you *must* try the little lemon ones first, they're heavenly!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1LUST] Mary insists, nudging the plate forward slightly. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary1LUST newline] Eleanor hesitates, glancing at the pastries then back at Mary, maybe lingering a bit longer than usual. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1LUST] "*Oh, perhaps just one to start...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary1LUST] She selects a small square cake with careful fingers. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary1LUST newline] "*One? Darling, don't be shy! We have the whole afternoon.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary1LUST] Mary laughs, taking a bite of a Battenberg slice herself. Her eyes sparkle. [if TeaMaryTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary1LUST] "*Besides, discussing important matters requires energy! Eat up!*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary2LUST] "*And then... imagine Mrs. Albright blaming her poor spaniel!*" Mary pauses, choosing a tart, but her eyes flick towards Eleanor's slightly strained waistcoat. "*But you mentioned Brittany... Something important, you said?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary2LUST newline] Eleanor meets Mary's gaze, holding it perhaps a fraction too long before nodding. She reaches for a finger sandwich. "*Yes, the funding... the potential discoveries...*" [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary3LUST] "*...it promises good press,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary3LUST] Mary finishes, but her gaze lingers on Eleanor's slightly flushed face, a small, almost sly smile playing on her lips. She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.6 id:teamary3LUST] "*And connections, darling. Valuable ones.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3LUST newline] Eleanor meets her gaze, a flicker of something - curiosity? heat? - in her eyes before she quickly looks down, smoothing her already taut skirt over her lap. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary3LUST] "*Yes... I suppose connections are key.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary3LUST] She reaches for the cream horn, her knuckles brushing Mary's as they both seem to aim for the pastry plate simultaneously. Both pull back momentarily. [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary3LUST] "*Apologies,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:teamary3LUST] Eleanor murmurs, her flush deepening as Mary simply giggles softly. [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary4LUST] "*And speaking of connections,*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary4LUST] Mary continues, her tone light but intimate, [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:teamary4LUST] "*The Society Ball... it truly *is* the event of the season. Imagine the introductions I could make for you.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4LUST] She pauses, tracing the rim of her teacup. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4LUST] "*A gown, a dance or two... It could be... memorable.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary4LUST newline] Eleanor swallows the last of her cream horn, her eyes flicking up to meet Mary's briefly. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4LUST] "*The Ball...?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary4LUST] She reaches, almost unconsciously, for the Battenberg cake slice. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary4LUST] "*Such events usually require significant preparation, though? And the right... attire?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary4LUST newline] Mary leans closer again. [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:teamary4LUST] "*Leave the details to me, darling. Just... just say you'll consider it.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:teamary4LUST] Her gaze drops briefly to Eleanor's straining waistcoat buttons before returning to her face. [continue] [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:teamary5LUST] "*Well...*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.0 id:teamary5LUST] Eleanor starts, her voice softer now, slightly breathless perhaps from the pastries or the atmosphere. She finishes the last piece of Battenberg. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:teamary5LUST] "*If you truly think it could be... beneficial... And you wouldn't mind the trouble...?*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5LUST newline] Mary smiles. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:teamary5LUST] "*Trouble? Nonsense! It would be my absolute pleasure.*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5LUST] She reaches across and briefly squeezes Eleanor's hand where it rests near the empty pastry plate. [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5LUST] "*Consider it settled, then! I'll arrange everything. Oh, this will be splendid!*" [if TeaMaryTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:teamary5LUST newline] Eleanor looks slightly overwhelmed, but nods, a faint, perhaps flustered, smile gracing her lips. Her hand lingers near Mary's for a moment longer than necessary. [continue] [note] Contains only the dialogue for the Lust Persuasion path. Sets BallInvitationGained to TRUE on Turn 5. Turn 1 and 2 dialogue could be slightly tweaked more for lust if desired, but kept mostly similar here for simplicity. [continue]

QuillPaperFallen: true -- You focus towards the quill and paper nestled in the side pocket of Eleanor's workbag. The quill immediately vibrates erratically against the paper, its scratching becoming a chaotic jumble of lines rather than script. With a stronger pulse, the paper flutters violently, and the quill jerks as if struck. Both items tumble out of the open pocket, falling from the bag and landing with a soft rustle on the tearoom floor near Mary's feet. She glances down briefly at the slight disturbance near her ankles but, perhaps assuming she merely kicked her own bag, returns her attention toward Eleanor. {link to: 'Eleanor Workbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'}

HandbagSpilled: true QuillPaperPowdered (QuillPaperFallen): true -- You direct a concentrated pulse of Aether towards Mary's lilac handbag resting beside her chair. The butterfly-shaped flips open with a soft *click* as the object jerks sideways and tips over, spilling its contents onto the carpet near Mary's feet: a small coin purse, a lace-trimmed handkerchief, and a small, ornate powder compact. The compact lands awkwardly, its lid snapping open, releasing a fine cloud of pale, faintly shimmering powder that settles over the immediate area... [if QuillPaperFallen] ...including the fallen quill and paper lying nearby. A noticeable dusting now coats the feather of the quill. Most importantly, *its tip*. [continue] "*Oh, goodness!*" Mary exclaims, momentarily flustered. She quickly bends down, scooping up her belongings. She rights her handbag with a slightly annoyed sigh. "*How clumsy of me...*" {link to: 'Mary Handbag Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [note] Cutscene triggered by using Aether on Mary's handbag. Sets HandbagSpilled to true and conditionally sets QuillPaperPowdered to true if, and only if, QuillPaperFallen was already true. [continue]

MaryPricked: true -- You focus your influence on the fallen quill, its feather now lightly dusted with the powder from Mary's spilled compact. The quill trembles slightly, then lifts just an inch off the carpet. You nudge it forward. It scrapes briefly against the floor, then jabs sharply upwards - the ink-stained, powder-coated nib making contact with the delicate skin of Mary's ankle, just above her shoe. "*Ow!*" Mary exclaims, jerking her foot back instinctively. She glances down, frowning at her ankle. "*What on earth...? Did something bite me?*" She rubs the spot briefly, finding no obvious mark, and dismisses it with a slight shrug, turning back to Eleanor. "*Apologies, darling... where were we?*" [[You watch as a faint tremor passes through her hand as she reaches for her teacup.->Mary Gets Sick 1]] [note] Cutscene triggered by using Aether on the powdered quill. Sets MaryPricked to true and links directly to the sickness progression. [continue]

QuillPaperFallen: true -- Lying somewhat haphazardly on the patterned tearoom carpet near Mary's feet, the quill and paper seem slightly indignant about their sudden relocation. A few stray fibers from the carpet cling to the edge of the paper. [if QuillPaperPowdered] A fine dusting of pale cosmetic powder now coats the feather and, more importantly, the sharp nib of the quill. [continue] The quill twitches occasionally, its nib leaving faint, dry scratches on the paper's surface, as if trying to continue its endless scribbling despite the lack of ink and proper angle. {one of: ["*The paper lies perfectly still, perhaps sulking.*", "*The quill makes a frustrated tapping motion against the floor.*", "*A corner of the paper curls slightly upwards, as if trying to peer under her skirt. Or maybe just her shoes - better not to assume.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Mary Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [if QuillPaperPowdered; unless MaryPricked; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Quill Prick Mary Ankle]] [continue] [note] Object description for the quill/paper once they have fallen onto the floor. Includes conditional text if they get powdered. [continue]

A few moments pass. Mary continues chatting, but her voice loses some of its usual sparkle. A subtle pallor creeps into her cheeks, replacing the natural flush. She pauses mid-sentence, swallowing hard, and presses a hand discreetly to her stomach beneath the table. "*...so then Mrs. Albright simply *insisted*...to...um...*" She falters again, her brow furrowing slightly. She takes a quick, shaky sip of tea. "*Oh dear. Terribly sorry, Eleanor... must be the heat in here.*" She fans herself weakly with her handkerchief, attempting a smile. [[The pallor deepens.->Mary Gets Sick 2]] [note] First part of the sickness sequence, showing initial symptoms. Links directly to the next part. [continue]

Mary's breathing becomes noticeably shallower, and a fine sheen appears on her forehead despite her fanning. She abruptly sets down her teacup with a clatter, knocking over the small sugar tongs to the side. "*Oh! Clumsy...*" she murmurs, but makes no move to pick them up. She closes her eyes for a moment, pressing her lips together tightly. "*Eleanor, darling...*" she begins, her voice strained, "*I fear I'm... I just realized I'm running late for a... thing... yes, dreadfully sorry to cut this short, but I... I really must get some air. Ahah...*" *** You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed->Mary Sick Ending 1]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Tea With Mary Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [note] Second part of sickness sequence, worsening symptoms, excuse, and the Diorama End Choice. Links to either the reset or the final ending passage for this path. [continue]

SlotTwoAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + PastriesEaten MaryTeaSuccessful: false EleanorMine (MaryPricked == true): EleanorMine + 1 LunchWithMary: true -- Mary doesn't wait for Eleanor's reply. Instead, she pushes her chair back awkwardly and begins weaving unsteadily between the tables, narrowly avoiding bumping into a waiter. Eventually, she pushes through the exit door without a backward glance. Eleanor watches her go, a mixture of surprise and concern on her face. She looks down at the half-eaten pastries on the table, then back towards the door where Mary vanished. "*Well... that was [[abrupt->Mary Sick Ending 2]].*"

She remains seated for a moment longer, finishing her cup of tea thoughtfully before slowly gathering her own things. The sudden end to the meeting seems to have left her slightly perplexed, but clearly also relieved of Mary's incessant chatter. Through the windows, you get to watch Mary as she collapses onto the garden's pathway, face first. *Lovely*. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'} [note] Ending passage for the "Mary Gets Sick" path. Sets relevant variables, describes the conclusion, and links back to the main day logic. [continue]

MaryPastryChoiceSeen: true -- The tearoom flickers, the current scene dissolving into a slightly earlier moment. You find yourself near the polished counter where pastries are displayed under glass domes. Mary stands there, pointing decisively with a gloved finger. "*Oh, definitely the Battenberg,*" she tells the patient attendant, "*Eleanor simply *devours* that. And those little lemon squares... heavens, she ate nearly half the plate last time! Best include four of those. And a cream horn... yes, and those jam tarts look delightful today. Must have a full plate, wouldn't want dear Eleanor to go hungry! She does work so terribly hard, burns through energy, I imagine.*" She beams as the attendant begins arranging the generous selection onto the tiered plate you recognise. The vision ripples, pulling you back to the present moment. {link to: 'pastry plate Tea With Mary', label: 'Back'} [note] This past view shows Mary actively selecting pastries with Eleanor's known appetite in mind, reinforcing the gluttony theme and Mary's potentially enabling role. Sets MaryPastryChoiceSeen to true. [continue]

config.footer.center: "{link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} | [[About]] | [[Settings]]" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" AsciiBackdrop_Enabled: false -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [CSS] .chapter-select-container { max-width: 700px; margin: 2em auto; padding: 0 2em; } .chapter-select-entry { margin-bottom: 1.5em; position: relative; } .chapter-select-entry:nth-child(1) { text-align: left; } .chapter-select-entry:nth-child(2) { text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; } .chapter-select-entry:nth-child(3) { text-align: left; margin-top: -2em; } .chapter-number { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 120px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 0.9; margin-bottom: 0.1em; position: relative; display: inline-block; } .chapter-number::after { content: ""; position: absolute; bottom: -0.15em; left: -0.3em; width: calc(100% + 0.6em); height: 6px; background: currentColor; opacity: 0.8; } .chapter-name { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 40px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: normal; margin-top: 0.6em; } .chapter-name .link { font-size: inherit !important; font-variant: inherit !important; text-decoration: none !important; position: relative; display: inline-block; } .chapter-name .link::after { content: ""; position: absolute; bottom: -0.1em; left: -0.2em; width: calc(100% + 0.4em); height: 3px; background: currentColor; opacity: 0; transition: opacity 0.2s ease; } .chapter-name .link:hover::after { opacity: 0; } .chapter-number-scramble { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 100px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; line-height: 0.9; margin-bottom: 0.8em; opacity: 0.4; position: relative; display: inline-block; } .chapter-number-scramble::after { content: ""; position: absolute; bottom: -0.4em; left: -0.3em; width: calc(100% + 0.6em); height: 6px; background: currentColor; opacity: 0.15; } .chapter-name-scramble { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 40px; font-weight: normal; font-variant: normal; opacity: 0.4; margin-top: -0.4em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } .chapter-link-disabled { font-size: 18px; font-style: italic; opacity: 0.4; margin-top: 0.3em; } [continue] <div class="chapter-select-container"> <div class="chapter-select-entry"> <div class="chapter-number">1</div> <div class="chapter-name">[[Spirit of Hunger->Intro 0]]</div> </div> <div class="chapter-select-entry"> <div class="chapter-number">2</div> <div class="chapter-name">[[Daemon of Hunger->Intro 2.0]]</div> </div> <div class="chapter-select-entry"> <div class="chapter-number-scramble">3</div> <div class="chapter-name-scramble">{scramble: 'GODDESS', length: 8}</div> <div class="chapter-link-disabled">Coming out... eventually? Perhaps.</div> </div> </div>

The Blue Lion pub hums with the low murmur of lunchtime. You follow Eleanor as Richard, who was standing by the entrance, leads her to a corner booth, already cluttered with loose papers and a few books he's brought along. A waitress places menus before them, but Richard barely glances at his, already gesturing animatedly towards a rubbing of a peculiar script. "You see, Ellie? The ligature here is unlike anything standard Middle Kingdom... it almost resembles some early Semitic forms, but the context..." His spectacles slide down his nose in his excitement. Eleanor leans forward, her own academic curiosity piqued, pulling out her own notes. [[The meal begins.->Translation Session Cutscene 2]]

Food arrives - a hearty portion of roast beef with potatoes for Richard, and a similar plate alongside a sizable side of buttered greens for Eleanor. For a time, conversation flows easily between bites, punctuated by the rustle of papers and the scratching of pencils as they compare notes. Richard's enthusiasm is infectious - Eleanor finds herself matching his pace, pointing out parallels in Celtic knotwork, debating potential phonetic values… to be honest, most of it is beyond you. Still, they seem to be enjoying themselves, and that’s nice to see. [if AmuletsState == 'intact'] As Richard gets lost explaining a complex grammatical point, Eleanor's attention begins to drift [[from the papers to the plate...->Translation Session Cutscene 3]] [if AmuletsState == 'broken'] As Richard gets lost explaining a complex grammatical point, Eleanor's attention begins to drift [[from the papers to her bag...->Translation Session Cutscene Alt 1]]

Her eating, initially measured, becomes more focused. The roast beef disappears steadily, followed by the potatoes, mopped up with gravy-soaked bread. She tackles the buttered greens with equal determination, her fork moving rhythmically. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] She subtly eyes Richard's unfinished plate, then quickly looks away, reaching for the bread basket instead. Her waistcoat strains slightly as she leans back, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Her plump figure shifts in the booth as her stomach begins to feel the strain. She finishes her plate entirely, then drains her water glass before looking longingly at the bread basket. Her blouse buttons pull taut across her rounded belly, and she takes a quieter, deeper breath. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Her substantial meal fills her quickly, pressing against the confines of her clothing. She finishes everything on her plate, then eyes the remaining bread with unconcealed desire, tearing off a large chunk. Her heavy breathing is noticeable now, and she places a hand on her large, full belly. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Her massive form barely fits the booth seat comfortably. The large meal stretches her already immense capacity, her enormous belly pressing against the table edge. After clearing her plate, she consumes several pieces of bread without hesitation, her double chin more pronounced as she chews. Her breathing is heavy, and she fans herself slightly. [continue] Richard, finally pausing his explanation, notices her empty plate and the way she's consuming the bread. [[He blinks, slightly taken aback.->Translation Session Cutscene 4]]

Eleanor catches his glance and freezes. A wave of heat rushes to her face. She quickly lowers the loaf, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, suddenly acutely aware of her empty plate and the crumbs surrounding it. "*Oh! I… I suppose I was hungrier than I realized.*" Her voice is small, embarrassed. She avoids his gaze, focusing intently on folding her napkin. "*I got quite carried away...*" [[Richard looks momentarily confused...->Translation Session Cutscene 5]]

...then his expression softens into his usual, slightly awkward but genuine smile. "Improper? No, no, Ellie! Not at all." He gestures vaguely with his fork. "Shows you have… vitality! Passion! Essential for fieldwork, eh?" He chuckles softly. "Besides, it's good to see you enjoying yourself. You work far too hard. And," he leans slightly closer, his eyes twinkling behind his lenses, "your insights just now were brilliant. Truly." Eleanor manages a small, hesitant smile, picking nervously at a stray crumb on the tablecloth. The blush remains, but the tightness around her eyes lessens. "*Well... thank you, Richard, that's... kind of you to say.*" The conversation shifts away from ancient scripts, becoming lighter, more personal. Eventually, [[the lunch hour draws to a close.->Translation Session Cutscene 6]]

As Eleanor finally gathers her notes and workbag, preparing to leave the pub, Richard clears his throat hesitantly, stopping her just before she steps away from the booth. "*Ellie... wait!*" She pauses, turning back with a questioning look, her hand resting on her notes, and so on her full stomach beneath them. He fiddles with his spectacles, avoiding direct eye contact for a second before plunging ahead. "*Right, um, ok, so, I-I was thinking... this Friday? There are some fascinating ruins just outside the city - barely an hour's train ride. Roman! I thought... well, perhaps we could take a look? Just a day trip, naturally. I'd pack a picnic.*" [[He looks up hopefully, pushing his glasses back up his nose->Translation Session Cutscene 7]]

SlotTwoAttended: true TranslationSessionAttended: true RichardRelationship: RichardRelationship + 2 DayCalories: DayCalories + 5 ExpeditionProposed: true -- Eleanor's smile widens. "*Why, that sounds... delightful! A proper date, uh?*" She glances thoughtfully towards the exit, considering. "*Friday... Let me check my schedule back at the museum when I return. It's a wonderful idea, truly. I'll let you know as soon as I can.*" With a final nod and a warmth in her expression that mirrors his own relief, she heads out into the afternoon bustle, leaving Richard looking rather pleased with himself. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Alright, lunch is truly over now.'} [note] This cutscene adds Richard's picnic proposal for Friday. Sets the ExpeditionProposed flag to true, allowing the player to potentially schedule the 'Weekend Expedition' event later via the calendar. Links back to the main day logic. [continue]

You are being dragged throughout the entrance hall. Eleanor continues walking briskly towards the center of the atrium. Right in front of her, a imposing [[bronze statue]] looms atop a plinth. Beneath him, an oak table holds an assortment of [[replica artifacts]] behind velvet ropes. She bypasses these central features, heading directly for the grand staircases.

You are dragged inside the entrance hall of the Bristol Institute of Archaeology and Antiquities. Eleanor's heels echo sharply across the checkerboard marble floor as she strides past a mahogany [[reception desk]], its surface dominated by a leather-bound [[visitors' ledger]] and a [[silver call bell]]. The heavy [[brass-framed doors->Cannot exit museum, tethered to Eleanor cutscene]] swing shut behind her with a soft hiss. She pauses for a moment, adjusting her [[🕰️pocket watch->Intro pocket watch/CH.2 Intro Skip]] chain, her gaze sweeping the familiar hall.

You are still being dragged throughout the entrance hall. Eleanor reaches the base of the eastern staircase. Twin staircases flank the atrium, their wrought-iron banisters terminating at arched entrances labeled ~Ancient Kingdoms~ and ~Prehistoric Findings~ in black lettering. Each entrance is guarded by two life-sized marble [[caryatids]], their stone faces impassive. She pauses for a moment, glancing up the stairs before placing her foot on the first step.

The air in the archives is cool and still. Rows upon rows of towering metal shelves stretch into the dim distance, packed tightly with document boxes and leather-bound ledgers - the only light comes from a few sparsely placed gas lamps, casting long, deep shadows. Violet Whitlock stands at a large wooden table near the center of the room, already engrossed in examining a recently opened crate filled with scrolls and pottery shards. She looks up as Eleanor enters, her expression as neutral and precise as the lines of her tailored suit. "*Ah, Miss Lovelace. Punctual. Good.*" She gestures towards the table. "*These arrived yesterday. Mesopotamian, mostly. I require assistance with the preliminary cataloguing.*" [[Eleanor approaches the table.->Archive Review Starting Cutscene 2]]

ArchiveReviewTurns: 0 VioletArchiveSuccessful: false MagnifyingGlassAligned: false GasLampFlareSeen: false VioletShadowAnomalySeen: false CratePastSeen: false VioletAnimusBlocked: false VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: false ReflectiveObjectAligned: false VioletTeleported: false VioletInterest: 0 VioletTeleported: false WatchingBowlPastSeen: false ShelvesPastSeen: false MagnifyingGlassPastSeen: false -- Violet steps aside slightly, indicating a stack of blank cataloguing cards and a pot of ink. "*Standard procedure. Note provenance, condition, brief description. Cross-reference with acquisition ledger Gamma-7.*" She returns her attention to a small clay tablet, turning it over in her gloved hands, seemingly already dismissing Eleanor's presence now that instructions have been given. [[*The vast, silent archive stretches around them.*->Archive Review Diorama]] {reset dialogue} [note] Initializes all event-specific variables, including the new ones for the teleportation puzzle (ReflectiveObjectAligned, VioletTeleported). Serves as the reset point. [continue]

ArchiveReviewTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): ArchiveReviewTurns + 1 -- [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 5] You hover within the museum archives. A number of metal [[shelves->shelves Archive Review]] stretch into the far distance of the hall. A single [[gas lamp->gas lamp Archive Review]] overhead casts pools of light onto a central wooden [[table->table Archive Review]]. [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 5; unless VioletTeleported; if VioletInterest < 2] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Archive Review]] stands at the table, carefully examining a clay tablet. [[Violet->Violet Archive Review]] is instead standing on the other side of the room, arranging pottery shards onto a velvet cloth. Several opened [[crates->crates Archive Review]] sit on the floor nearby. [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 5; unless VioletTeleported; if VioletInterest >= 2] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Archive Review]] sits at the table, while [[Violet->Violet Archive Review]] has moved closer, now standing directly across from her - she has carried with her a box, though it's too dark for you to take a look inside. Several opened [[crates->crates Archive Review]] sit on the floor nearby. [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 5; if VioletTeleported] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Archive Review]] stands alone at the table now, looking around with a puzzled expression. Several opened [[crates->crates Archive Review]] sit on the floor nearby. A fine layer of grey ash coats the floor where *the late* Violet Whitlock previously stood. [continue] *** [continue] [if VioletTeleported] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Dialogue Violet Gone'} [unless VioletTeleported; if VioletInterest >= 2] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Dialogue Interested'} [unless VioletTeleported; if VioletInterest < 2] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Dialogue'} [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns > 5] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with this encounter's conclusion->Archive Review Ending Router]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this scene over from the beginning->Archive Review Cutscene 1]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [continue]

Towering metal shelves dominate the archives, receding into shadow beyond the lamplight. They are densely packed with uniform grey document boxes, large leather-bound ledgers tied with ribbon, and rolled charts secured in cardboard tubes. Labels written in precise archival ink mark the contents - acquisition dates, collection names, shelf numbers. A faint smell of aging paper and binding glue hangs in the air. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ShelvesPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Shelves Archive Review]] [continue]

The brass gas lamp hangs overhead, suspended by a chain from a ceiling mount. Its mantle glows with a steady, slightly yellow light, casting a distinct circle of illumination on the table below, but leaving the corners of the vast archive in deep shadow. You can hear a faint, continuous *hiss* emanating from it. The light flickers occasionally, sending shadows dancing momentarily across the shelves. The brass fitting where the chain meets the ceiling appears slightly discolored. [if VioletTeleported] *The lamp is clearly damaged now - the brass around the mantle is warped and blackened, as if exposed to intense heat. Its light flickers more erratically.* [unless VioletTeleported; if MagnifyingGlassAligned] *You recall the focused beam of light briefly striking that ceiling fitting.* [continue] {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless GasLampFlareSeen; unless MagnifyingGlassAligned; unless ReflectiveObjectAligned; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a strong, resonating hum...->Gas Lamp Aether Flare 1]] [continue] [if MagnifyingGlassAligned; if ReflectiveObjectAligned; unless VioletTeleported] {embed passage: 'Secondary Check for gas lamp Archive review'} [continue] [note] Reverted descriptive text, kept MagnifyingGlassAligned check, added VioletTeleported check for damage description. [continue]

The large wooden table dominates the center of the illuminated area. Its surface is scarred and stained from years of use, marked by countless artifacts being examined and catalogued upon it. Currently, it holds the [[clay tablet->clay tablet Archive Review]] Eleanor was just inspecting, resting beside a neat stack of blank [[cataloguing cards]]. An open ink pot and a couple of simple dip pens sit nearby, currently in use by Eleanor. A few loose [[pottery shards->pottery shards Archive Review]] are laid out to one side, one of which sits under a small, brass-rimmed [[magnifying glass->magnifying glass Archive Review]], its lens catching the lamplight. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor stands attentively beside the table, her focus shifting between the artefact she holds and Violet's movements across the room. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, spectacles perched on her nose. Her dark work skirt and waistcoat are practical, though the waistcoat buttons strain slightly over her midsection when she leans forward to examine an artifact more closely. The fabric pulls taut across her back and the gentle swell of her hips. She seems absorbed in the task, even if a bit distracted by Violet's presence. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[Try as you might...->Eleanor Archive Review persuasion menu]] [continue]

Violet stands with precise posture near the far end of the table, sorting pottery shards onto a velvet cloth. Her tailored grey suit, a stark contrast to Eleanor's more conventional attire, is immaculate despite the dusty environment. Not a speck of dust clings to the sharp lapels. Not one. How is that possible? Her movements are economical, efficient, as she handles the delicate fragments with gloved hands. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight, severe bun, emphasizing the sharp planes of her face. Behind her spectacles, her gaze is intense, analytical - mostly fixed on the artifacts, but occasionally flickering towards... Eleanor, with unnerving focus. [if EyeMarkCreated] A small cloth bandage covers her left eye, held in place by what appears to be medical tape. The spectacle lens on that side remains, though it seems unnecessary now. [continue] [if VioletShadowAnomalySeen] *You notice now that the bottom-most button of her waistcoat is not tastefully undone, but instead missing, revealing a sliver of the white shirt beneath.* [continue] {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if ArchiveReviewTurns <= 4; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Violet Archive Review persuasion menu]] [continue]

Several sturdy wooden crates sit open on the floor near the table. Packing straw spills out, cushioning the artifacts within. Labels tacked to the sides indicate their origin - "Baghdad Expedition - Lot 4B" and "Ur Excavation Site - Crate 7". Most seem to contain pottery fragments, textile remnants wrapped in oilcloth, and smaller clay tablets similar to the one Eleanor is holding. [unless GasLampFlareSeen] [append] One crate, slightly smaller than the others, appears to hold scrolls tightly bound with twine. It's difficult to see clearly from this distance due to the poor lighting. [if GasLampFlareSeen] [append] One crate, however, holds not scrolls, but a single, flat object wrapped carefully in oilcloth: a [[reflective object->reflective object Archive Review]]. During the lamp's flare, you caught a definite *glint* off its surface where the cloth had pulled away at a corner - smooth, dark, potentially reflective. [continue] {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless CratePastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Crate Move Cutscene]] [continue]

SlotOneAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 ArchiveReviewAttended: true VioletArchiveSuccessful (VioletInterest >= 1): true -- [if VioletInterest >= 2] Violet returns the artifacts to their box, each movement precise and final. The wooden lid closes with a sharp snap. She gathers the scattered cataloguing cards without looking at Eleanor, stacking them with mechanical efficiency. "I told them you were hopeless." she mutters to herself. Eleanor shifts in her chair, her hands clasping and unclasping. "I... did I miss something? About the artifacts?" Violet pauses, her fingers still on the card stack. "Your training is thorough, Miss Lovelace." The words carry no warmth. "Perhaps... additional exposure to our collections might prove instructive." She stands, adjusting her spectacles. "Should you be interested in extended research access." Eleanor nods quickly, uncertain. "Yes, of course. Any opportunity to expand my understanding..." [[Violet is already turning away.->Archive review ending 2]] [continue] [if VioletInterest < 2] The last artifact card is completed. Violet collects the cataloguing materials without comment, her expression unreadable as she immediately returns to cross-referencing the acquisition ledger. "Ensure the area is tidied before you leave, Miss Lovelace," she instructs curtly, [[her attention already elsewhere.->Archive review ending 2]] [continue]

[if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev1] Violet glances up from her pottery arrangement. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev1] *"Something amiss, Miss Lovelace?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev1 newline] Eleanor taps her pen against the tablet's edge. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.5 id:archRev1] *"The cuneiform. Remarkably clear impressions."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev1] Violet returns to sorting shards by size. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev2] Eleanor reaches for a fresh cataloguing card. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRev2] *"These acquisition notes mention a private collection. Related to the Whitlock estate donation?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRev2 newline] Violet sets down a curved fragment. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev2] *"No. Standard Mesopotamian artifacts."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev2] *"My family's collection focused elsewhere."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.5 id:archRev2] Her fingers move to the next shard. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev3] Violet lifts a larger fragment to the light. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRev3] *"Unusual glaze technique. The firing temperature appears inconsistent with standard Uruk period work."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRev3 newline] Eleanor looks up from her card. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRev3] *"Trade connections, perhaps? Anatolian influence in the technique?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev3] Violet places the shard with the others. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev3] *"Contamination in the record. Precision is essential."* [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev4] Eleanor fills in the provenance section. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRev4] *"Cross-referencing with acquisition ledger Gamma-7, as instructed."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev4] *"The item numbers match, though some descriptions seem abbreviated."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRev4 newline] Violet arranges the completed shards on the velvet cloth. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRev4] *"Brevity serves accuracy."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev4] Her pen scratches across her own notes. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRev5] Eleanor completes the final tablet entry. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRev5] *"Condition assessment: intact, minor surface wear consistent with age."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRev5] She sets down her pen. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRev5 newline] Violet gathers her pottery fragments into organized rows. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRev5] *"There. Isn't it nice?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.8 id:archRev5] The velvet cloth holds twenty-three arranged pieces. [continue]

A fragment of fired clay, similar in style to others you've seen, but this one bears remarkably clear cuneiform script etched into its surface. The edges are sharp, suggesting it was carefully handled or perhaps recently excavated. Eleanor was examining it closely just moments ago. {link to: 'table Archive Review', label: 'Back'}

A stack of pale yellow cataloguing cards sits neatly beside the ink pot. Most are blank, awaiting details of the newly arrived artifacts. However, one card lies slightly askew on top. It's already filled out in Violet Whitlock's distinctive, sharp, and meticulously neat handwriting. It details a "Cylinder Seal, Lapis Lazuli, Early Dynastic III" with a sketch number. Notably, the "Current Location/Destination" field reads: *V. Whitlock - Office (Further Analysis)*. The standard museum accession number is absent. {link to: 'table Archive Review', label: 'Back'}

Several fragments of pottery are laid out carefully on the table. They vary in size and curvature, some bearing traces of dark glaze or painted geometric patterns typical of Mesopotamian ware. One larger shard, currently under the magnifying glass, has unusual markings that seem less decorative and more... purposeful? Certainly familiar. {link to: 'table Archive Review', label: 'Back'}

A standard-issue brass-rimmed magnifying glass lies on the table, its bone handle smooth from use. Its lens is clear, currently positioned over a fragment of pottery, enlarging the faint markings etched into the clay. It seems to be one of the museum's general tools, passed between departments as needed. {link to: 'table Archive Review', label: 'Back'} [unless MagnifyingGlassAligned; unless MagnifyingGlassPastSeen; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Magnifying Glass Aether Align]] [continue] [unless MagnifyingGlassPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Magnifying Glass Archive Review]] [continue]

[if VioletInterest >= 2] Eleanor nods hesitantly, gathering her notes with unsteady hands. "I... yes, if you think it would be helpful. Though I'm not certain what I might contribute..." Violet straightens her papers without looking up. "Administrative wing. Second floor. Just warn me beforehand." Her tone suggests duty rather than enthusiasm. "I'm sure we can find something to discuss." Eleanor lingers at the threshold as Violet returns to her ledger. The scratch of pen on paper fills the silence. When Eleanor glances back, Violet's head remains bent over her work, spectacles reflecting the gaslight. [if VioletInterest < 2] Eleanor murmurs a quiet acknowledgment and begins tidying the stray papers and ink pots. Violet remains engrossed in her ledger, offering no further comment or glance in Eleanor's direction. The dismissal is clear, professional, and utterly final for the moment. Eleanor moves toward the heavy archive door, her footsteps echoing in the vast space. The gas lamp continues its steady hiss overhead, casting the same pools of light onto the now-empty table. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

GardenPartyAttended: true SlotThreeAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 MaryRelationship (MaryTeaSuccessful): MaryRelationship + 1 GardenPartyHangover: true -- You follow Eleanor as she navigates the streets towards one of Bristol's more affluent neighbourhoods, eventually arriving before an admittedly handsome townhouse, its wrought-iron gate standing open. Muffled sounds of conversation and laughter drift from within. Taking a steadying breath, Eleanor smooths her gloves and walks up the short path, entering the house through the open front door. A liveried servant nods silently, gesturing towards the rear of the house, and so [[the garden->Garden Party Cutscene 2]].

The garden is a surprisingly large expanse behind the house, bathed in the gentle light of the late afternoon sun. Guests mingle on the manicured lawn, glasses in hand, taking liberally from the tables are scattered about - most are holding bottles of wine and delicate glassware. Mary spots Eleanor almost immediately and waves her over, detaching herself from a conversation with a stout, bewhiskered gentleman - presumably the treasurer host. "*Eleanor, darling! You made it! Isn't it lovely?*" Mary beams, linking her arm through Eleanor's. "*Mr. Ainsworth,* - she gestures to the host - *was just telling us about his latest acquisition from Italy.*" The host smiles warmly, offering Eleanor a glass of pale wine from a nearby tray. "*Ah, Miss Lovelace! A pleasure. Do try this Vermentino - it's quite... refreshing, I'd say!*" [[Eleanor accepts the glass with a polite nod.->Garden Party Cutscene 3]]

Eleanor takes a tentative sip of the wine - from her sour expression, it isn't clear to you whether she likes it or not. It must be potent. Mary chatters on, drawing Eleanor into various conversations. Another glass is pressed into her hand, then another. The host insists she sample a particularly robust Chianti, followed by a sweet dessert wine. The garden begins to swim slightly. Voices blur, faces soften at the edges. Eleanor finds herself laughing more easily, her usual reserve dissolving in the warm haze of alcohol and sunshine. She accepts another glass, the stem cool against her fingers... *And then... [[nothing.->Garden Party Awakening 1]]*

Awareness returns... slowly? Like surfacing from deep water. Your ethereal form feels sluggish, disoriented. Where... [[where are you?->Garden Party Awakening 1.5]] {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'}

This isn't Eleanor's cramped flat, nor the dusty confines of her museum office. You hover in a lavishly decorated bedroom. Moonlight streams through tall windows, illuminating plush velvet curtains, a polished mahogany wardrobe, and a silver vanity set gleaming on a dressing table. [[Finally, you spot her.->Garden Party Awakening 2]]

Sprawled across a large four-poster bed, tangled in silk sheets and pillows. Her honey-blonde hair is loose, fanned out across the bedding. Even in the dim light, her state is obvious. Her borrowed evening dress - or what's left of it - is pushed down around her waist, exposing her chemise, which itself is unlaced and gaping open. You feel yourself slowly fading away. Yet, [[you drift closer to examine her.->Garden Party Awakening 3]]

Eleanor is deeply asleep, breathing heavily, her face flushed. Her chemise barely contains her full breasts, and below them, her stomach swells prominently, a soft, rounded mound straining against the thin fabric. It's clear she indulged heavily - not just in wine, but likely food as well, judging by the sheer distension. Her body seems softer, heavier, profoundly relaxed in drunken slumber. {embed passage: 'Weight Gained day end texts for Garden Party Event'} As you observe her, you notice another figure curled beside her in the bed, an arm slung possessively across Eleanor's full middle, [[their face obscured by shadow and hair...->Garden Party Awakening 4]]

You shift your position slightly, crossing through the adjacent wall and mattress, trying to get a better view of Eleanor's bed companion. The moonlight catches the curve of a familiar cheekbone, a lock of dark hair... [if MaryTeaSuccessful] It's Mary. Her lilac party dress is discarded on a nearby chair, leaving her in her own chemise, her breathing soft and even as she clings to Eleanor's side, a faint, contented smile on her sleeping face. [unless MaryTeaSuccessful] It's the host. Well, not the one that greeted Eleanor, the other one: the treasurer's wife - Mrs. Ainsworth, was it? Her own elaborate gown lies in a heap on the floor, leaving her in her chemise, her breathing soft and even as she clings to Eleanor's side, a faint, contented smile on her sleeping face. [continue] [[...how did this come to happen?->Garden Party Awakening 5]]

The bedroom scene begins to waver, the edges blurring as you feel yourself detaching, fading away from the unfamiliar room and the sleeping forms within it. Your awareness dissolves completely, plunging you back into waiting silence before the dawn of the {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'next day'}. [note] This event skips the standard 'Day End Passage' logic as it provides its own end-of-day resolution. It sets flags, significantly increases DayCalories, affects Mary's relationship a little, and then links directly to the 'Next Day Name' passage to advance time. [continue]

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Eleanor is deeply asleep, breathing heavily through slightly parted lips, her face flushed. Her borrowed dress is pushed down around her waist, exposing her chemise, which is currently unlaced and gaping; her modest breasts are partially revealed, rising and falling with each breath. Her stomach seems to be noticeably distended, pushing softly against the thin fabric of her chemise - a clear sign that she has indulged in more than just wine. Her relaxed limbs seem almost lost in such a large bed. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Eleanor is deeply asleep, a soft snore escaping her lips, her slightly fuller face flushed. Her dress - likely borrowed for the occasion - is bunched around her hips, revealing the unlaced chemise straining against her curves. Her pull breasts press against the fabric, and below them, her belly protrudes significantly, round and taut from food and drink, overwhelming the slight padding she now carries through her daily duties. Her limbs, relaxed in drunken slumber, appear noticeably softer. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor is deeply asleep, sprawled heavily amongst the silk sheets, her breathing deep and slow. Her dress lies discarded somewhere near the foot of the bed, leaving her in only her chemise, which is wide open down the front. Her substantial breasts spill freely, resting heavily against her considerably rounded and distended belly. The plump curve of her stomach is prominent, clearly stuffed well beyond its usual comfortable fullness. Her widened hips and thick thighs spread softly across the mattress. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Eleanor is profoundly asleep, her large body sunk deep into the mattress, her breath catching occasionally in a drunken hiccup. Her dress is nowhere in sight, and her chemise is barely present, pushed aside by the sheer volume of her figure. Her now larger breasts are freed and angled away - forced to, really, by the significant mound of her tightly swollen belly, which dominates her torso. Rolls of fat are visible at her sides and back, even as she lies relaxed. Her heavy thighs press together, taking up a significant portion of the bed. A faint sheen of perspiration glistens on her flushed face. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor is utterly lost to a drunken slumber, her massive form overwhelming the luxurious bed. Her chemise is a lost cause, tangled somewhere beneath the sheer bulk of her body. Her large breasts are flattened against the vast, drum-tight expanse of her stomach, which protrudes upwards dramatically, clearly painfully full even beneath its thick layer of fat. Her immense thighs and hips consume the surrounding space, and her heavy arms rest limply at her sides. Her flushed, round face with its pronounced double chin is peaceful, despite the evident physical discomfort of the copious amount of cheese and wine she must've gone through tonight. [continue]

[JavaScript] console.log("=== PASTRY CART DEBUG ==="); console.log("PastryCartVisible:", engine.state.get('PastryCartVisible')); console.log("Current interactions:", JSON.stringify(engine.state.get('inventoryInteractions'))); console.log("Passage name:", passage.name); [continue] [unless PastryCartVisible] A brass serving cart is wedged somewhat clumsily behind the statuette's plinth and a couple of tall curtains. Its top tray holds the sad remains of some forgotten meeting refreshments: a few dry-looking biscuits scattered on a tablecloth, some likely stale miniature cakes, and an empty teapot. It's mostly hidden from the view of those in the main hall area. [if PastryCartVisible] The brass serving cart now stands more prominently near the edge of the meeting space, its position slightly awkward. The stale biscuits and dry cake on its top tray are now clearly visible, looking quite stale, yes... but still present. [continue] {link to: 'Intro Meeting Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Pastry Cart Intro Meeting]] [continue] [JavaScript] console.log("About to check PastryCartVisible for AetherAbility:", engine.state.get('PastryCartVisible')); [continue] [unless PastryCartVisible; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Pastry Cart Aether Intro Meeting]] [continue] [JavaScript] console.log("After conditional blocks, final interactions:", JSON.stringify(engine.state.get('inventoryInteractions'))); [continue]

The museum hall blurs, the light shifting to a sunset. The main lights are off, leaving only a few auxiliary gas lamps hissing softly. You watch as two junior attendants are hastily clearing up after what might have been a small, informal end-of-week gathering for senior staff - a few scattered chairs, empty glasses. One attendant pushes the pastry cart, intending to return it to the kitchens. "*Oh, just... just leave it, Thomas!*" the other calls tiredly, already halfway out the door. "*Cleaning crew will get it Monday. Let's just get home.*" Thomas hesitates, shrugs, and pushes the cart somewhat haphazardly behind the statuette plinth to get it out of the main walkway. The vision quickly melts back to Monday. {link to: 'pastry cart Intro Meeting', label: 'Back'}

PastryCartVisible: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- You focus on the forgotten cart tucked behind the plinth. With a sustained vibration, the brass begins to hum, and the cart's wheels scrape reluctantly against the marble floor. Slowly, deliberately, you nudge it forward, inch by inch, until it rolls clear of the plinth and comes to a stop near the edge of the informal meeting space. [if AmphoraState == 'teetering' || AmphoraState == 'broken' || AmphoraState == 'drunk' || MarbleBustsFallen] *...it's promptely ignored. The attention is clearly consumed by more pressing concerns: first of all, of course, the unfolding drama with the [[amphora->Intro Meeting Diorama]].* [unless AmphoraState == 'teetering'; unless AmphoraState == 'broken'; unless AmphoraState == 'drunk'; unless MarbleBustsFallen] Eleanor's eyes flick towards the cart as it emerges, her gaze lingering for a moment on the small cakes before she forces her attention back to the Director. A tiny, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her. The [[pastries might be stale, but...->Intro Meeting Diorama]] [continue]

[if SlotTwoEvent == 'CAFE'; unless SlotTwoAttended] Eleanor descends the staircase, smoothing her waistcoat as she heads toward the museum's lower level. The hall clock signals the lunch hour, and her stomach provides its own rumbling confirmation. The basement café beckons... [[...but *your* journey ends here for now.->Demo End Cutscene]]

config.footer.center: "" config.header.left: "" config.header.right: "" -- [CSS] .demo-end-subtitle { font-size: 0.9em !important; /* Smaller font size */ opacity: 0.75; /* Reduced opacity */ max-width: 550px; /* Slightly narrower width */ margin: 1em auto 1.5em !important; /* Adjusted margins */ display: block; /* Ensure it behaves as a block */ } .demo-end-text { font-size: 1.1em; max-width: 600px; margin: 0 auto 1em; /* Standard paragraph margin */ } .titleScreen .very-big { /* Ensure title style works */ font-size: 56px; font-variant: small-caps; } .titleScreen a.link { /* Style the final link */ font-size: 1.1em; display: block; margin-top: 2em; } [continue] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="very-big">END OF DEMO</span><br> </h1> <br> <p class="demo-end-text">Thank you for playing the demo for the second chapter of Spirit of Hunger!</p> <p class="demo-end-text">The full chapter will continue throughout the week, offering choices, challenges, and opportunities to influence Eleanor's fate (and figure, of course).</p> <br> <p class="demo-end-subtitle">Will she secure funding for her expedition? Will she uncover the secrets behind the artifacts? And what is up with Violet?? Who knows! I sure don't! I'm clearly making it up as I go! Just kidding! Not that much, though! Plans have been made! But there is *a lot* I need to go through! Game development is hell! And I'm in pain! Sweet, sweet pain!</p> <p>{link to: 'Title screen', label: 'Return to Title Screen'}</p> </center> </div>

You near closer. Just by looking at the object, you find yourself inexplicably aware of Eleanor's routines, of her tasks, duties, responsabilities - of all the paths she could be taking. The schedule for Monday seems set: {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text (Demo)'} {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text (Demo)'} {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text (Demo)'} {link to: 'calendar', label: 'Back'} [note] This is the display-only version of the slot selection screen for the demo. It shows the fixed schedule but offers no links to change events. [continue]

[[➼Morning->Work Activity Selection (Demo)]] *"Was called to the exhibition halls. The Director wished to discuss the week's priorities..."*

[[➼Lunch->Lunch Activity Selection (Demo)]] *"Lunch at the museum café. Reasonable prices, tolerable food."*

[[➼Afternoon->Leisure Activity Selection (Demo)]] *"Ice cream in the park, weather permitting."*

You ponder through all the places Eleanor could visit for lunch - places where her hunger might be satisfied to varying degrees. That should still be your main priority, all things considered, as her hunger has not yet been satisfied. * Museum Café * Local Bakery * Tea with Mary * Meeting with Director * Working Lunch at Desk * Bank Meeting {link to: 'Slot Selection (Demo)', label: 'Back'}

A number of afternoon activities present themselves readily. Thankfully your work here is made much simpler by Eleanor herself: she has helpfully jotted various options in the margins of past weeks. Some are circled, others crossed out. * Visit the Market Fair * Café Visit * Ice Cream in the Park * Visit Apothecary * Train Station People-Watching * Geology Club - The Duke's Gathering * Garden Party * Evening Auction - Private Collection {link to: 'Slot Selection (Demo)', label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.link.lineColor: "transparent" --

MagnifyingGlassAligned: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- You direct a pulse of energy into the magnifying glass lying on the table. It vibrates sharply, the bone handle rattling against the scarred wood. The lens itself seems to hum, and the diffuse light from the overhead gas lamp catches within it. For just a few seconds - not enough for anyone to notice, but you see it clear as day - the light coalesces into a thin, surprisingly bright beam. It flickers and dances across the ceiling before settling onto a brass fitting: the point where the gas lamp chain meets the ceiling mount directly above. The intense pinpoint of light remains fixed there for a moment before the vibration ceases and the beam disperses. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Cutscene for using Aether on the magnifying glass during Archive Review. Sets the flag indicating alignment for a later interaction. [continue]

GasLampFlareSeen: true VioletShadowAnomalySeen: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- You focus your resonant energy into the gas lamp hanging overhead. The brass fixture hums intensely, and the mantle within flares suddenly, casting a brief, blindingly white light across the archive. Both Eleanor and Violet flinch slightly at the unexpected flare. As it peaks, the sharp contrast throws shadows into accordingly sharp relief and... ? [[Something isn't right.->Gas Lamp Aether Flare 2]] [note] Part 1 of the gas lamp Aether interaction. Creates a bright flare and sets up the shadow observation. [continue]

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- Darkness. Complete and utter blackness swallows the archive. You can see nothing, not even the faintest outline of the shelves or the table. Slow, heavy footsteps echo on the distant stone floor, approaching steadily from the main museum halls. They pause somewhere near the entrance to this section of the archives. A moment of silence, then a soft *thump*, followed by the unmistakable scrape of wood against stone. A low grunt accompanies the scraping, the sound strained, full of effort. The scraping continues intermittently, punctuated by heavy breathing and further grunts. *POP* You hear something small pebble on the floor, then a sigh. The darkness dissolves, the familiar dim light of the archives returning as the vision fades. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage", get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless VioletAnimusBlocked] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Ms. Whitlock's ordered, if not cagey mind. You perceive the surface thoughts - precise, analytical observations about the artifacts - but beneath them lie deeper currents, detached from the immediate task. ➼[[**CONTEMPT**->Violet Archive Review Contempt Persuasion]] *They are so easily swayed... utterly lacking in discernment. Do I have to guide every single step? Pathetic.* ➼[[**LONGING**->Violet Archive Review Longing Persuasion]] *The rituals bring such... fullness. Oh, for the feeling of true power...* ➼[[**PURPOSE**->Violet Archive Review Purpose Persuasion]] *The preparations are slow... draining. Not going to work. Our current vessel is not good enough.* [if VioletAnimusBlocked] Her mind is now like obsidian - utterly closed off to you after your most recent intrusion. Try as you might, you simply cannot get access to it again. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'} [note] Animus menu for Violet during the Archive Review event. Includes the check for VioletAnimusBlocked. [continue]

In that instant of intense illumination, Violet's shadow, cast sharply against the floor behind her, seems... much, much bigger than it should be. It's not just the angle of the light. It depicts a figure far broader, heavier. Its outline suggests a substantial, almost pendulous double belly; a bosom far more voluminous than Violet's actual chest; thick, heavy arms and thighs, inconsistent with her frame. As Violet takes a step to the side, you could swear her shadow took a second more to reach its place, and that [[its jiggling rolls needed another two to settle->Gas Lamp Aether Flare 3]].

Then, just as quickly as it flared, the gas lamp settles back to its normal, soffused and shadowless glow. Violet's adjusts her spectacles, seemingly unfazed by the brief flicker. *But you saw that.* {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: true -- Their eagerness is almost pathetic. They grasp at fragments of understanding, mistaking rote learning for true comprehension. Do they think simple adherence to ritual is enough? You can't just... ugh! They lack discipline. *Vision* necessary to truly serve the purpose. Always needing direction, correction - children playing with relics they cannot possibly comprehend. One wonders if any of them are truly *worthy* of the final stages. Probably not. Weak-willed fools, the lot of them. {plainlink to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: true VioletAnimusBlocked: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 2 -- The rituals bring such... fullness. Oh, for the feeling of true power, the glorious weight of divine presence settling fully within your fat, swollen- Your brow furrows and your hands almost crack the clay tablet in your grasp. How *dare* they? *<span style="color: #6A0DAD;">~~YOU.~~</span> ~~Get. OUT.~~<span style="color: #6A0DAD;"></span>* The connection snaps shut abruptly. Try as you migth, further attempts to probe her mind feel like pushing against solid obsidian. {plainlink to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Violet expresses desire, realizes the spirit's presence, and forcefully ejects it, blocking further Animus attempts in this event. Significantly raises VioletInterest. [continue]

VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- The preparations stall. The vessel weakens, insufficient for the energies required. Mere sustenance isn't enough; it requires focus, a *will* behind the intake. The chosen one lacks the... necessary conviction? Discipline? It is difficult to say - perhaps they just don't *want* it. Has the council considered it? Does the council consider anything? Frustrating. A new candidate must be considered, and that candidate *must* be you. But how? No leverage yet. {plainlink to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Reveals Violet's focus on finding a suitable candidate/wanting to be the candidate, increasing her interest in possibly harnessing the spirit. At a certain point, we will need to show a glimpse of the current chosen one. [continue]

[if VioletTeleported] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Ending Violet Gone'} [unless VioletTeleported] {embed passage: 'Archive Review Ending 1'} [continue]

[if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevGone1] Eleanor stares at the spot where Violet vanished, then up at the sputtering lamp, bewildered. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevGone1] *"Good heavens... that lamp nearly exploded!"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevGone1] She takes a hesitant step towards the ashes, then stops. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevGone1] *"Ms. Whitlock? Violet...? Where did she go?"* [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevGone2] She looks around the empty archive space, frowning. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevGone2] *"Did she... leave? Without a word? How rude."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevGone2] She shakes her head, pulling her notes closer. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevGone2] *"Probably went to complain about the lighting. Or fetch maintenance. Typical."* [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevGone3] Eleanor looks again at the ashes, then quickly away, clearly deciding not to dwell on it. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevGone3] *"Well. Suppose I should finish this cataloguing myself then. Can't rely on anyone..."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevGone3] She picks up a new card, trying to focus on the tablet before her, though her hand trembles slightly. [continue]

Carefully unwrapped within its crate lies a polished square of what looks like obsidian, or perhaps deeply patinated silver. Its surface is mirror-smooth, though it reflects the dim archive light with an odd lack of depth, seeming to absorb rather than bounce the illumination. It feels ancient, though the craftmanship seems to be strangely modern. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless ReflectiveObjectAligned; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Reflective Object Aether Align]] [continue]

ReflectiveObjectAligned: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- You focus your energy onto the dark, reflective square nestled in the crate. It emits a low, resonant hum, and the surface seems to shimmer, the dim light catching strangely within its depths. It shifts fractionally within its packing straw, tilting just enough to catch the ambient glow from the overhead gas lamp. A faint, distorted reflection of the lamp now plays across its dark surface, aimed back towards the magnifying glass on the table. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You focus your resonant energy into the gas lamp hanging overhead. Empowered by the aligned lens and the reflecting object, the effect is dramatically amplified. The beam striking the ceiling fitting is... incandescent. Pure white light, far more intense than the previous flare. The brass fitting glows cherry-red almost instantly, then begins to *drip*, molten metal sizzling as it falls onto the table below. The hissing of the lamp intensifies into a high-pitched shriek. The light emanating downwards becomes blinding, washing out all detail. This time, [[Violet shields her eyes, taking an instinctive step back.->Gas Lamp Aether Teleport 2]] [note] Part 1 of the teleportation sequence: intense light, melting fitting. [continue]

ArchiveReviewTurns: 3 VioletTeleported: true -- Just as the white light reaches an unbearable intensity, it abruptly lowers, collapsing inward into a single point of blinding *purple* centered roughly where Violet stood. There's a sharp *crack* like static electricity, and the smell of ozone fills the air. The final flash lasts only an instant. When your senses clear, the archive is plunged into deeper shadow. The damaged gas lamp sputters fitfully, casting a weak, flickering orange glow. The intense light is gone. *And so is Violet.* {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

SlotOneAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 ArchiveReviewAttended: true VioletTeleported: true EleanorMine (VioletTeleported == true): EleanorMine + 1 -- Eleanor finishes the remaining cataloguing cards alone, casting occasional nervous glances around her. She works quickly, eager to leave the unsettling atmosphere of the archive. The silence feels heavier now, broken only by the erratic sputter of the damaged gas lamp. *But isn't it peaceful, now? Just Eleanor and you, sharing a moment.* As she pulls the door shut behind her, you hear her mutter, "*Must report that faulty lamp immediately... honestly, the state of this place...*" {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'} [note] Specific ending cutscene if Violet was teleported. Sets flags appropriately (no Violet follow-up event triggered). VioletArchiveSuccessful remains false. [continue]

BankMeetingAttended: true SlotTwoAttended: true -- You follow Eleanor inside the imposing, marble-floored entrance hall of the bank. The air is cool, echoing with the hushed clicks of clerks' pens and the rustle of ledgers. She approaches the main counter, handing over her appointment card. The head clerk, a stern-faced older man, glances at the card, then consults a thick registry. "*Ah, Miss Lovelace. Mr. Thorne sends his deepest apologies - an urgent matter required his presence. Elsewhere. However, Mr. Finch is prepared to assist you. This way, please.*" He gestures not towards the large, intimidating mahogany door marked 'Manager', but down a quieter side corridor. [[Eleanor follows, seemingly intrigued.->Bank Meeting Cutscene 2]]

The clerk leads Eleanor to a surprisingly comfortable office - surely smaller than the manager's, but furnished with plush chairs and shelves lined with books. Standing nervously beside the desk is a young man, perhaps barely older than Eleanor herself. His spectacles are slightly askew on his eager, plump face, and a copy of "~~Antiquities of Ancient Greece~~" peeks out from beneath a stack of bank ledgers on his desk. He rushes forward, hand outstretched. "*Miss Lovelace! A distinct honour! Truly!*” he gushes. "*Reginald Finch, at your service. Mr. Thorne was unexpectedly detained, but I assured him that I was quite capable of handling our appointment. I've followed the Institute's work - yours too, I have to assume! - for years! Simply fascinating!*" He gestures enthusiastically towards a nearby table laden with… [[oh my->Bank Meeting Cutscene 2.5]].

…yes, well, laden with an overwhelming amount of food: three tiers of sandwiches, scones with cream and jam, slices of Battenberg, Victoria sponge, Dundee cake, assorted biscuits, plus pots of both tea and coffee. "*Please, sit, sit! And do help yourself!*" he beams. "*Must keep one's strength up for important discussions! Wasn't quite sure of your preferences... so I ordered a variety!*" [[Eleanor sits, slightly taken aback by the spread and his enthusiasm.->Bank Meeting Cutscene 3]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- The man talks rapidly, barely pausing for breath, eventually pushing the plate of scones towards her. "*A scone? Essential for maintaining one's focus during complex historical analysis, I find!*" Caught off guard, and feeling the pressure of his expectant gaze (and perhaps the lure of the cream), Eleanor politely takes a small scone, spreading a thin layer of jam. *"Well, Mr. Finch, my research focuses primarily on the artifactual evidence suggesting...*" she begins, trying to steer the conversation back. He listens, but nods so vigorously he nearly dislodges his spectacles, already reaching for the sandwich platter. "*Exactly! Artifacts! Have you seen… this?*" He pulls a small, worn coin from his waistcoat pocket. "*Found it near Bath. Roman, third century, I believe! The detail! Exquisite!*" [[He holds it out for her inspection.->Bank Meeting Cutscene 4]]

Eleanor examines the coin politely, offering a noncommittal compliment before placing it gently back on the desk and clearing her throat. "*Mr. Finch, regarding the reason for my appointment... the private loan for the initial survey...*" Finch waves a dismissive hand, pushing the sandwiches closer again. "*Ah yes, the practicalities! Tiresome, indeed. But necessary!"* He grabs a bank form from a drawer but doesn't seem to actually read it. *"Collateral? Miss Lovelace, surely the advancement of human knowledge is collateral enough! Mr. Thorne understands the importance of supporting local academic endeavours.*" He scribbles something onto the form. *"He's given me discretion for sums up to one hundred pounds for such cases. A preliminary expedition... fieldwork... travel... I imagine that should suffice for some of the initial stages, yes?*" Eleanor seems on the verge of correcting him, but he asks this while pointing towards the Victoria sponge cake. [["*You simply MUST try a slice! Celebration is in order!*"->Bank Meeting Cutscene 5]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 3 -- Slightly bewildered by the ease of this meeting, Eleanor accepts the slice of cake Finch offers her. As he fills out the loan approval form with cheerful efficiency, seemingly more focused on dotting the 'i's with a flourish than the financial details, you watch as Eleanor finds herself taking another sandwich, then another small piece of Battenberg cake from the plates Finch keeps nudging her way. His enthusiasm is infectious, and frankly, you don’t know what she was talking about in her calendar’s notes: the food seems to be rather good. "*There we are!*" Finch signs the bottom of the form with a grand loop. "*One hundred pounds sterling, credited to your account by closing time today. Just think, Miss Lovelace! You're on the verge of discovery! If you find anything... well, anything truly remarkable, do let me know! I should be honoured to be among the first to hear! It’s only fair.*" [[He beams, handing her the approved document.->Bank Meeting Cutscene 6]]

BankMeetingAttended: true -- Eleanor folds the loan approval carefully, tucking it into her workbag. You can tell by her posture she feels rather full, possibly slightly light-headed from the unexpected amount of food and Finch's sheer energy. She offers him a genuine, if slightly dazed, smile. "*Thank you, Mr. Finch. Truly. Your... um… confidence in this venture is greatly appreciated.*" "*Not at all, Miss Lovelace, not at all! A privilege!*" He sees her to the office door, still chattering about potential Roman influences in Brittany. Now back in the main hall, Eleanor takes a deep breath, the scent of old paper and money replacing the sweet aroma of cake, and makes her way out, the unexpected success (and the weight in her stomach) settling in. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

SlotTwoAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- You follow Eleanor into the imposing, marble-floored entrance hall of Thorne & Sons Banking House. The head clerk, after confirming her appointment, leads her directly to the heavy mahogany door marked 'Manager'. The office is vast and silent, save for the loud ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. Dark wood panels line the walls, and heavy leather chairs face an expansive, impeccably clear desk. Mr. Thorne himself, an older man with stern features and neat grey hair, gestures curtly towards a chair without rising. "*Miss Lovelace. Be seated.*" His tone is purely business. As Eleanor sits, a clerk enters silently, placing a tray with a cup of pallid-looking tea and two sad, pale biscuits before her. "*Refreshment.*" Thorne states, rather than offers. Bound by etiquette, Eleanor forces a polite nod and takes a sip of the lukewarm, bitter tea, crumbling a corner off a dry biscuit she has no intention of finishing. [[The taste is truly dreadful.->Bank Meeting Thorne Cutscene 2]]

Eleanor clears her throat, trying to ignore the unpleasant aftertaste. "*Mr. Thorne, thank you for seeing me. I wish to apply for a small, short-term personal loan - merely seed funding, you understand - to facilitate a preliminary archaeological survey in Brittany. A modest f-fifty pounds.*" Thorne regards her impassively, steepling his fingers. "*Archaeology, Miss Lovelace? The bank concerns itself with tangible assets and reliable returns, not... academic speculation.*" His gaze is dismissive. "*What collateral do you propose for this venture? 'Potential discoveries' are hardly bankable security.*" His focus is purely on the financial risk, or lack thereof. Eleanor attempts to elaborate, mentioning potential artefact value, but Thorne waves a hand dismissively, cutting her off. [[He glances pointedly at the clock.->Bank Meeting Thorne Cutscene 3]]

Eleanor attempts to elaborate, mentioning potential artefact value, but Thorne waves a hand dismissively, cutting her off. He glances pointedly at the clock. "*Miss Lovelace, your proposal is irregular and frankly, lacks sound financial basis.*" He sighs, drumming his fingers on the desk. *"However...*" he picks up his pen, *"The sum is... negligible. Frankly, the administrative effort to formally deny such a trifling amount is unwarranted, particularly given my demanding schedule this week.*" He quickly signs a standard loan form, barely glancing at it. *"There. Twenty-five pounds. Repayable in six months, interest compounded quarterly.*" He slides the form across the desk. "*Any further, minor inquiries of this nature will be delegated to my assistant, Mr. Finch, though I’m sure I have made myself appropriately clear, and that you will have no need to pose any. Good day.*" [[He turns pointedly to his ledger, indicating the meeting is over.->Bank Meeting Thorne Cutscene 4]]

BankMeetingAttended: true ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- Eleanor takes the slip, murmuring a stiff, "*Thank you, Mr. Thorne.*” She rises, smoothing her skirt, and quickly exits the oppressive office, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. The relief of escaping the manager's presence is palpable, even if the granted sum feels insultingly small. At least it's *something*. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

SlotOneEvent: 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Work Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

PrivateResearchAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true -- Punctuality was always one of Violet's unstated demands. You follow Eleanor as she makes her way towards Ms. Whitlock's office, a small, somewhat isolated room at the end of a less-frequented corridor in the administrative wing. The journey itself feels slightly clandestine, though you can't really put your finger on why it does. [[You both pause before the unassuming door.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 2]]

It's plain, dark wood, bearing a small, polished brass plate that simply reads: "V. WHITLOCK, CURATOR." No superfluous titles, no unnecessary flourish. Eleanor takes a shallow breath and knocks. A clipped "*Enter,*" sounds almost immediately from within. Pushing the door open, Eleanor steps into a room that is surprisingly bright. The office itself is... sparse. A single, dark mahogany desk sits perfectly centered, its surface clear save for a precisely aligned blotter, an inkwell set, and one closed ledger. Bookshelves line one wall, but the volumes are all uniformly bound in dark leather, with titles unreadable from this distance, and arranged by size. Violet stands by the window, her back to the door, silhouetted against the light. "*Miss Lovelace. You are punctual.*" [[She turns slowly.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 3]]

Violet gestures towards a single chair positioned opposite her desk. She remains by the window, her silhouette sharp against the glass. "*Your Brittany research, Miss Lovelace. The expedition proposal.*" Her voice carries its usual precision. "*Celtic ritual sites, was it not?*" Eleanor settles into the chair, wood creaking. Her notebook slides in her lap as she adjusts her position. "*Yes, the preliminary findings suggest fascinating parallels between the coastal formations and known sacred sites, though the symbols-*" "*The symbols.*" Violet's reflection shifts in the window. "*Tell me about the ones that resist interpretation.*" "*Well, there are certain markings that don't match any scripts I've encountered. Spiral configurations, abundance motifs - figures with pronounced corpulence arranged around ceremonial vessels...*" Eleanor's hands move as she speaks, tracing shapes. You notice her voice strengthens when discussing her work. [[Violet turns from the window, spectacles catching the light.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 4]] [note] On Violet's desk sits a small paperweight - carved serpent coiled around fruit marked with a V-shaped bite. Eleanor's eyes linger on it briefly before returning to Violet's silhouette. [continue]

"*Abundance motifs.*" Violet's lips curve slightly. "*How refreshingly... direct.*" She moves to the bookshelf, fingers trailing along dark leather spines. One volume sits forward from the others, its surface tooled with symbols that blur when examined directly. "*Some societies practiced accumulation as spiritual discipline. Managed cycles of... fullness.*" Violet's hand hovers over the protruding book. "*Methods that conventional scholars dismiss too readily.*" Eleanor shifts in the hard chair. "*I'm afraid my experience has been rather limited to traditional approaches.*" Violet's hand drops from the shelf. "*Traditional.*" The word falls flat. "*Yes, I suspected as much.*" A tall cabinet of dark wood stands in the corner. Eleanor's gaze drifts toward it, her brow furrowing as though trying to remember if it had been there moments before. You are not sure either. "*Though such practices sound intriguing,*" Eleanor adds quickly. "*I'd be curious to learn more about alternative interpretive frameworks.*" [[Violet's posture straightens slightly.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 5]]

"*Would you?*" A note of interest sharpens Violet's voice. She returns to the window, breath fogging the glass. "*My family once maintained collections that illuminate such practices. Items documenting cycles of ritualized consumption.*" Eleanor leans forward in her chair. "*Ritualized consumption? In what context?*" "*Pathways to influence.*" Violet's fingers trace patterns in the condensation - a circle, it seems. "*Through what lesser minds term excess.*" "*That's... fascinating.*" Eleanor's notebook slides again as she adjusts her position. "*Though I confess I'm not certain how such elements would factor into fieldwork analysis.*" Violet's hand stills on the glass. The enthusiasm that had crept into her voice evaporates. "*Analysis.*" Her shoulders tighten. "*Of course. You…*" Behind the desk hangs a framed chart - branching symbols connected by spidery lines. Some shapes echo Eleanor's sketches, others seem to shift when observed peripherally. Violet turns around. “...you really don’t get it, do you?” [[The silence stretches between them.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 6]]

"*Ah well,*" Violet says finally, "*I’m being too impatient with you. Perhaps broader exposure might prove beneficial.*" She turns, studying Eleanor with new calculation. "*We are expecting a… let’s call it a private acquisition. An item that might be relevant to these historical threads.*" Eleanor's attention drifts to the chart behind Violet's desk. The interconnected symbols create visual distortions, causing her to blink and look away. "*Your presence at the initial assessment would be... instructive.*" "*A private acquisition?*" Eleanor shifts forward. "*What sort of artifact?*" "*[[Strictly confidential.->Violet Private Research Cutscene 7]]*" Violet's tone sharpens, cutting off questions.

Eleanor nods, though her fingers worry at her notebook's edge. "*Ah. Well… of course. When might this assessment take place?*" "*I will inform you when the crate arrives.*" Violet moves to her desk, hand resting on the closed ledger. "*That will be all for now.*" You watch Eleanor gather her things, uncertainty flickering across her features. You follow her as steps out of the stark, quiet office and back into the corridor. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'The day\'s work must continue.'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' VioletCratePathAChosen: true VioletCratePathBChosen: false -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink on the calendar to reflect Eleanor's accepted invitation. The new entry forms, precise and expectant. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeEvent: 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' VioletCratePathBChosen: true VioletCratePathAChosen: false -- With a subtle nudge of resonant energy, the ink on Eleanor's calendar shifts. A new entry appears, reflecting her decision to investigate the mysterious crate. {embed passage: 'Leisure Activity Flavour Text'} {plainlink to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

VioletCratePathBChosen: true -- Eleanor pushes open the door. It moves on silent hinges, revealing the room's dim interior. A single gas lamp hisses softly. The air is cool, carries the sweetness of dried herbs. Violet Whitlock stands over a shipping crate, iron pry bar in her gloved hands. The metal scrapes against wood as she works to wedge it under the lid. Her shoulders tense with each failed attempt. She stops. "What." Her head turns toward Eleanor. "*Miss Lovelace? What are you doing here? This is a restricted area.*" Her knuckles show white against the [[pry bar->Violet Crate Cutscene 2 ResetPoint]].

VioletCratePathAChosen: true -- Eleanor knocks twice on the heavy oak door simply labeled "47". "*Enter.*" The room's single gas lamp casts uneven shadows across stone walls. The air carries scents of old paper and something sweet, like dried herbs, or incense. You see Violet standing beside a shipping crate, her spine straight, hands clasped behind her back. She nods once as Eleanor enters. "*Miss Lovelace. Thank you for your punctuality.*" Her voice remains level. "*As discussed, the acquisition has arrived. On monday, really, but I found myself busier than usual - no matter. I believe its contents may prove illuminating. To both our fields of study.*" Her eyes do not leave the [[crate->Violet Crate Cutscene 2 ResetPoint]].

VioletCrateTurns: 0 VioletCrateOpened: false PryBarUsed: false TomePageViewed: 0 DrapedObjectRevealed: false MikaCrateChronos: false MikaTomeChronos: false MikaKnivesChronos: false MikaEffigyChronos: false MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation: false MikaVioletAnimusLonging: false MikaVioletAnimusAssurance: false MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity: false MikaEleanorAnimusUnease: false MikaEleanorHungerTriggered: false -- The gas lamp's flame flickers - a amber light sending shadows across the curved walls of the room. The air sits heavy, broken only by its steady hiss. A lectern holds a thick, leather-bound tome. Floor-to-ceiling velvet drapes something against the far wall. A glass display case reflects the lamp's glow, its contents barely visible in the dim light. [if VioletCratePathAChosen] Violet gestures toward the crate. "*Let us see what secrets it holds, shall we? I will say, I am quite [[excited->Violet Crate Diorama]].*" [if VioletCratePathBChosen] Violet's grip shifts on the pry bar. "*Well. As you are here, you may as well make yourself useful. [[Assist me->Violet Crate Diorama]].*" [continue] {reset dialogue}

VioletCrateTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): VioletCrateTurns + 1 -- [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4] You hover inside the Mika Collection room. The air is cool and heavy, the silence absolute except for the faint hiss of a single gas lamp. The shadows in here seem deeper, darker than elsewhere in the museum. [[Violet->Violet Crate Violet]] and [[Eleanor->Violet Crate Eleanor]] stand before [[the Crate->Violet Crate Object Crate]], a large, nail-studded box sitting in the center of the room. To one side stands a [[heavy lectern->Violet Crate Object Lectern]]. Further back, a massive, floor-to-ceiling [[draped object->Violet Crate Object Draped]] looms like a silent sentinel. Near the wall, a single glass [[display case->Violet Crate Object Display Case]] holds a few unsettling artifacts. *** [if VioletCratePathAChosen; if VioletCrateTurns <= 2] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Dialogue PathA'} [if VioletCratePathAChosen; if VioletCrateTurns > 2] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Dialogue Main'} [if VioletCratePathBChosen; if VioletCrateTurns <= 2] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Dialogue PathB'} [if VioletCratePathBChosen; if VioletCrateTurns > 2] {embed passage: 'VioletCrateDialogueMain'} [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns > 4] You sense Violet's patience has worn thin. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [if VioletCrateTurns > 4; if PryBarUsed] But the crate is now open. You can now either [[proceed and see what's inside->Violet Crate Opened Proceed Ending]] or [[start this scene over from the beginning->Violet Crate Cutscene 2 ResetPoint]]. [if VioletCrateTurns > 4; unless PryBarUsed] You can either [[see how this plays out->Violet Crate Failure Ending1]] or [[start this scene over from the beginning->Violet Crate Cutscene 2 ResetPoint]]. [continue]

The lectern is carved from a dark, almost black wood, its surface polished to a dull sheen. The stand is heavy and imposing, clearly built to hold a volume of significant weight. A dark purple velvet cloth is draped over the top, embroidered with silver thread that forms elaborate, interlocking patterns. It's over this cloth that, from the lettering on top of its cover, the "[[Tome of Glutton->Violet Crate Object Tome]]" rests. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[unless DrapedObjectRevealed] A floor-to-ceiling object is completely hidden by a single, heavy sheet of dark red velvet. The fabric is thick, absorbing the light and muffling any sound. It hangs perfectly still, concealing the shape of whatever lies beneath. From its sheer size, you assume it must be either a large statue or a monumental painting... you'd check yourself, but it's too dark to make out what's behind it. [if DrapedObjectRevealed] Revealed on the wall is a massive, disturbing mural. A corpulent, vaguely feminine entity, its skin blueish, reclines amidst a scene of decadent ruin. It is not eating people, but devouring the food from a vast, toppled banquet table, its form seeming to swell and grow larger even as you watch the static image. You force yourself to look away. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless DrapedObjectRevealed; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Crate Draped Aether]] [continue]

The display case is made of dark, polished mahogany with thick glass panels. Unlike the other cases in the museum, this one is sealed with a heavy-looking brass lock, suggesting its contents are considered particularly valuable. Or dangerous. Inside, resting on black velvet lining, are two distinct items: a set of gleaming [[obsidian ritual knives->Violet Crate Object Knives]] and a small, unsettling [[wax effigy->Violet Crate Object Effigy]]. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeAttended: true VioletCrateAttended: true CultArtifactAcquired_CrackedVessel: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- The last of the straw packing is pulled away. Lying nestled in the bottom of the crate is not some grand artifact, but something small. Unassuming. *Familiar.* It's a statuette, carved from what looks like pinkish marble, depicting a female form. Its shape is almost identical to your own vessel, maybe a little larger... except this one is marred by a deep, jagged crack that runs from its base to its [[neck->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 1]].

The shipping crate is made of thick, dark planks of wood, held together by large, slightly rusted nails. Wisps of dry straw peek out from the seams of the lid - you poke your head through it, but there's too much of the stuff for you to catch the shape of the object inside. You spot that on one side, a symbol has been crudely chalked: a stylized Eye of Horus, but with a swirling spiral at its center instead of a pupil. Most of the other markings are mundane shipping details, faded and scuffed from its long journey. [if VioletCratePathBChosen] A heavy iron [[pry bar->Violet Crate Object PryBar]] leans against the side of the crate, evidence of Violet's recent, unsuccessful attempts to open it. [continue] [unless VioletCratePathBChosen] You spot a heavy iron [[pry bar->Violet Crate Object PryBar]] leans against the side of the crate. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless MikaCrateChronos; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Violet Crate Crate Chronos1]] [continue]

Eleanor stands with her hands clasped behind her back, fingers interlaced. Her head tilts slightly as she examines the room's contents. Her brow furrows, then smooths, then furrows again. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; append] Her waistcoat buttons remain fastened. Her skirt sits properly at her waist. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP' || WeightGained == 'FAT'; append] Her blouse pulls taut across her chest and middle. When she leans forward, the fabric strains. She reaches behind herself, adjusting her skirt waistband. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'; append] Her blouse gaps between the buttons. The white chemise beneath shows through. [continue] She glances at Violet, then back at the objects, then at Violet again. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Violet Crate Eleanor Persuasion Menu]] [continue]

Violet stands motionless beside the wooden crate, her dark suit without a speck of dust despite the room's neglected state. Her hands rest at her sides, fingers straight. Her breathing is shallow, controlled. Her spectacles reflect the dim light as her head tilts slightly toward the crate's contents. Her lips press into a thin line. A muscle in her jaw twitches once, then stills. [if EyeMarkCreated] A neat white cloth patch covers her left eye, secured with thin strips of medical tape. The injury does nothing to diminish the intensity of her remaining gaze. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Violet Crate Violet Persuasion Menu]] [continue]

SlotThreeAttended: true VioletCrateAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- Violet's breath comes short and sharp. "*Useless.*" With one hand, she pushes Eleanor back a few feet. The pry bar shakes in her grip as she wedges it beneath the lid. Her shoulders bunch. She throws her full weight down on the iron bar, feet lifting from the stone floor. The wood groans, and soon enough- *CRACK* The pry bar snaps under her. Its broken end spins across the room, strikes the far wall with a ringing clang. Violet stares at the jagged stub in her hands. Her chest rises and falls. [[The crate sits unopened.->Violet Crate Failure Ending 2]]

[if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateB1] Eleanor clasps her hands behind her back. [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB1] *"I noticed the delivery earlier. The porters mentioned difficulties with... special handling, I think?."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB1 newline] Violet's hands wrap tightly around the pry bar handle. [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB1] *"The porters talk too much. This collection operates under specific protocols."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB1] She does not look up from the crate. [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateB2] Eleanor takes a half-step closer. [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB2] *"Ah. Of course. Though the sealing appears quite... thorough. Perhaps additional leverage would help?"* [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateB2 newline] Violet pauses. The pry bar trembles slightly in her grip. [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB2] *"Fine. Hold this steady while I work the other end."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.0 id:crateB2] She gestures toward the crate's corner. [continue]

[if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateM1] Eleanor points to a chalk mark on the crate's side. [if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateM1] *"This symbol. That's an eye of Horus, isn't it? But the center spiral is unusual."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateM1 newline] Violet glances at the marking, then returns to the lid. [if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateM1] *"...that is unusual, yes. Likely shipping marks, though. Nothing more."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:crateM1] The pry bar scrapes against wood. [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateM2] Violet repositions the iron bar for better leverage. [if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateM2] *"Hold that corner down, Lovelace. Press firmly."* [unless MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation; unless MikaVioletAnimusLonging; if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateM2] *"We need to see what's inside."* [if MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation; if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateM2] *"It has to be here. It has to be."* [if MikaVioletAnimusLonging; if VioletCrateTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateM2] *"Close now. Very close."* [continue]

[if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateB1] Eleanor gestures towards the crate. [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB1] *"I overheard the porters mentioning a special delivery for the Mika Collection. I thought you might... um... require assistance?"* [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB1 newline] Violet's grip tightens on the iron bar. She doesn't look away from the crate. [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB1] *"The porters are gossips. And I am perfectly capable of managing my own acquisitions, thank you very much."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB1] Her gaze is a sharp challenge. [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:crateB2] Eleanor holds her ground, her tone calm. [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:crateB2] *"Of course. However, these older crates can be difficult. Another pair of hands often proves useful."* [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:crateB2 newline] Violet hesitates, her eyes narrowing as she considers Eleanor's words. She glances at the stubborn lid, then gives a curt, almost imperceptible nod. [if VioletCrateTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:crateB2] *"...Fine. Make yourself useful, then. But don't touch anything without instruction!"* [continue]

There's a single moment of hesitation before Violet's arm swings to the side. The broken iron bar flies across the room, strikes the glass display case - the front panel explodes inward. Crystal fragments cascade to the floor, and the obsidian knives and wax effigy tumble among the shards. "*This is concluded.*" Violet's voice cuts through the settling glass. "*Your assistance is no longer required, Lovelace. Leave.*" Eleanor's mouth opens, then closes. She nods once and quickly steps toward the door. Her footsteps fade in the corridor. Violet remains standing over the sealed crate, her hands opening and closing at her sides. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on.'}

A heavy iron pry bar, its surface surprisingly free of rust, suggesting it was brought here recently for this specific task. Or maybe it was just bought for the occasion. One end is flattened into a chisel tip, while the other provides a thick, solid grip. It feels cold, purposeful. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless PryBarUsed; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a sharp, resonant hum...->Violet Crate Aether PryBar]] [continue]

A large book, bound in what looks like black, pebbled leather, rests upon the lectern. When the light from the gas lamp hits its surface at just the right angle, the dark leather seems to shimmer with a faint, deep purple hue. The book is held shut by a simple brass clasp, though it's undone. It... doesn't particular seem old, or ancient, just a bit thick - really, it wouldn't look too out of place inside of any library, or house. Someone has clearly been taking great care of it. Not a single spot of dust on top of it. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless MikaTomeChronos; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Violet Crate Tome Chronos]] [continue] [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Crate Tome Aether]] [continue]

A set of three knives of varying sizes, carved from what appears to be pure, polished obsidian. They seem to drink the light, their edges looking unnaturally sharp. As you watch, a faint purple glint seems to travel along the largest blade's edge before vanishing. They are clearly ceremonial, not practical, tools. {link to: 'Violet Crate Object Display Case', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless MikaKnivesChronos; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Violet Crate Knives Chronos]] [continue]

A small, surprisingly detailed candle crafted from a dark, almost black wax, expertly sculpted into the shape of a seated, obese woman. The figure is soft and rounded, with a large, placid double-belly resting on a lap of thick thighs. One hand rests on its upper part, while the other is held palm-up, as if in offering. The figure’s face is serene, its features smooth and ambiguous. The wick, thick and unburnt, protrudes from the top of its head. {link to: 'Violet Crate Object Display Case', label: 'Back'} [if VioletCrateTurns <= 4; unless MikaEffigyChronos; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Violet Crate Effigy Chronos]] [continue]

PryBarUsed: true -- You do the usual, and resonate through the iron... but you simply don't have enough precision to move the pry bar into a useful position: thankfully, and a bit concerningly, Violet catches that. *She smiles.* You watch as she picks the tool back up, and [[conveniently jams it into the lid->Violet Crate Aether PryBar 2]].

TomePageViewed: TomePageViewed + 1 -- You direct a subtle pulse of energy into the heavy tome. A faint purple light seems to shimmer across its leather cover before the book silently flips open of its own accord. It rests on a specific page for a moment, giving you a clear view of its contents before snapping shut with a soft *thud*. *** [if TomePageViewed == 1] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Tome Page 1 Text'} [if TomePageViewed == 2] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Tome Page 2 Text'} [if TomePageViewed >= 3] {embed passage: 'Violet Crate Tome Page 3 Text'} [continue] {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DrapedObjectRevealed: true -- You push into the heavy velvet sheet. It stirs, then billows dramatically as if caught in a powerful, unfelt wind. The fabric slides from its moorings and pools on the floor with a soft, heavy sigh. Revealed on the wall is a massive, disturbing mural. A corpulent, vaguely feminine entity, its skin blueish, reclines amidst a scene of decadent ruin. It is not eating people, but devouring the food from a vast, toppled banquet table, its form seeming to swell and grow larger even as you watch the static image. You force yourself to look away. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaCrateChronos: true -- The dim light of the Mika Collection room dissolves, replaced by the deep, oppressive darkness of a ship's hull. The crate slides violently across the floorboards as the vessel pitches, the rhythmic groaning of timbers and the endless sloshing of the sea the only sounds. You feel the gentle, sickening sway of the ocean around you. The journey was long, and seemingly uneventful. The vision blurs, the scent of the sea fading as the still, heavy air of the museum room reforms around you. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaTomeChronos: true -- The vision is brief and sharp. You see Violet's gloved hand turning a page in the Tome. She pauses, her finger tracing a line of text in the section on "Patronage". Her lips move silently, as if reciting the words. The vision snaps back to the present, the book lying closed on its lectern. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaKnivesChronos: true -- The image is murky, lit by flickering torchlight. A figure in dark, heavy robes stands before a simple stone altar. The face is obscured by a deep hood. The figure raises one of the obsidian knives - its polished surface gleams. With a swift, practiced motion, the figure slices down! Oh, god... but as you reopen your eyes, you see that the blade has been used to cut into into a round loaf of bread resting on the altar. *It's a very clean cut.* The figure raises the sliced bread as if in offering to an unseen presence before the vision fades. {link to: 'Violet Crate Object Display Case', label: 'Back'}

MikaEffigyChronos: true -- The vision is sharp, focused on the small wax effigy. It sits on Violet's pristine office desk, illuminated by the focused light of a desk lamp. You watch as Violet's gloved hand, holding a small, heated metal tool, carefully adds a minute detail to the figure's serene face. She works with focus, her expression one of deep concentration. She murmurs something too low to hear, leaning close as if whispering a secret to the wax figure before setting her tool down and drawing a sigh. The vision dissolves, returning you to the dim, heavy air of the collection. {link to: 'Violet Crate Object Display Case', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You focus your essence on Violet. Her mind is made of ordered thought, but you are starting to sense cracks in the walls - fissures of intense, focused desire. You can feel the pull of obsession. [unless MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation] ➼[[**ANTICIPATION**->Violet Crate Animus Anticipation POV]] *The hum... the resonance... it *must* be coming from within this wretched box...* [unless MikaVioletAnimusAssurance] ➼[[**ASSURANCE**->VioletCrateAnimusAssurancePOV]] *This *is* the one. It has to be. The signs align...* [unless MikaVioletAnimusLonging] ➼[[**LONGING**->Violet Crate Animus Longing POV]] *Ah... you again. Good.* [if MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation; if MikaVioletAnimusLonging; if MikaVioletAnimusAssurance] Her thoughts are now a turbulent storm of your making. You could press further... but you had the distinct impression your influence was heard. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You reach toward Eleanor's consciousness, seeking the familiar warmth of her thoughts. Instead, your essence encounters something cold and unyielding - not resistance, but absence. *Where are her strings?* The space where her mind should be feels hollow, distant, as though viewed through thick glass. Something is derailing your efforts - whether the crate's contents, the room's collection, or Violet's presence, you don't know. {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'} [note] You reach out to Eleanor's mind. Her thoughts are a blend of academic focus, a growing sense of unease from the strange room, and a surprising, gnawing physical sensation. [unless MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity ➼[[**CURIOSITY**->Violet Crate Eleanor Animus Curiosity POV *Is this... has she been curating this collection? Why? What even are these objects?* [unless MikaEleanorAnimusUnease ➼[[**UNEASE**->Violet Crate Eleanor Animus Unease POV *This "confidentiality"... something is not adding up.* [unless MikaEleanorHungerTriggered ➼[[**HUNGER**->Violet Crate Eleanor Animus Hunger POV *This room... these objects... I feel... ravenous.* [if MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity; if MikaEleanorAnimusUnease; if MikaEleanorHungerTriggered You have explored the currents of Eleanor's thoughts thoroughly for now. Further influence feels unwise. [continue]

You try again, focusing a sharp pulse into the heavy iron pry bar in Violet's hands. The metal hums with a low, resonant frequency. As Violet heaves down, the pry bar bites deep into the wood. Instead of scraping uselessly, it finds purchase. With a loud *SCREECH* of protesting metal, a large nail is ripped from the plank. The corner of the lid pops upwards with a sharp crack. Violet gives a small, satisfied nod, leveraging the new opening to work the bar further along the edge. The way forward is now clear. {link to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The page is titled "**SUMMONING OF BAKERY**". The text details an incantation for creating vast quantities of baked goods. It appears to be a foundational spell, as the margins are filled with handwritten notes in different scripts, arguing the merits of brioche versus sourdough as a base offering. One annotation, in what you recognize as Violet's sharp handwriting, dismisses the debate as "pedestrian."

This page is titled "**INCANTATION OF VOID**". The original text has been violently scratched out. A neater script below it describes a modified spell, once used by 19th-century French thieves to attract valuables, now altered to attract only edible items. A footnote dryly mentions the spell's creator was reprimanded by her peers for "hoarding such a useful technique" after an "unfortunate, but deserved incident involving a burst corset."

TomePageViewed: 0 -- Titled "**PATRONAGE OF GLUTTON**," this page seems older, the ink faded. It details a ritual for summoning a demon from the Third Circle of Hell to act as a proxy, absorbing the physical consequences of devotional feasting. A note in the margin explains this allows followers to maintain "conventional beauty standards" while still making offerings of mass. It warns, however, to be precise in the terms of the pact.

MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation: true -- The hum... the resonance I've chased... it must be within this wretched box. Where else could it come from? Where else would *you* have come from? My preparations, the rituals, the offerings - all converging on this moment. I can hardly contain myself... literally, perhaps. I've far exceeded my own pact with Glutton. Soon. Soon *I* shall be its most favored instrument. It has to be so! Would it not recognize its most devoted servant? {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaVioletAnimusAssurance: true -- This *is* the one. The texts spoke of this. The omens align. Glutton will find its true conduit at last. And *I* will be its hand. Its most devoted servant. And *you*... your unsubtle nudges only confirm what I already know. You'll have a task, too. You'll be great. These... amateurs... will finally witness true power. This pathetic institution will finally serve a higher purpose. *My* purpose. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaVioletAnimusLonging: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 2 -- This feeling again. I can hear you, I'm sure you are aware of it by now. Sense you. The thrum of *potential*. So many dead ends, so many inert trinkets... but this feels different. The energies are muddled by the journey, shielded by this crude wood, but *you* are are here, and this is too good to be a coincidence. I can feel the pull. The Vessel, the Conduit... patience. The final piece is almost in hand. My own hands. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity: true -- This collection... it's not like the others. There's no clear thematic or chronological order. It feels intensely personal, like a private one. Who's Mika, anyways? I've never heard of the name. Has Violet been curating this herself? Why? What is the unifying principle behind, um... a set of obsidian knives and a big candle? This just seems like a random assortment of objects really - not even artifacts, just trinkets. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaEleanorAnimusUnease: true -- This "confidentiality"... it feels less about academic rigor and more about pure secrecy. And this room... the air is so, so heavy. It's not just dust and age; there's a pressure here, a watchfulness that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. Wait, what am I even saying? It's just a dark room, don't be ridiculous Eleanor. But Violet... is even more intense than usual. What's her problem? What is she not telling me? Are we doing something illegal, being here? {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MikaEleanorHungerTriggered: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- Good heavens, this room... It makes the air feel thick, and a peculiar emptiness gnaws at my stomach, ~~demanding to be filled~~. The feeling is... ~~exciting~~. My mouth is watering. I feel... ~~absolutely ravenous~~, and yet I also feel more bloated than when I first entered it. Like my stomach just... grew an inch? God... there, you knew it. You've finally gone crazy. But I must have a biscuit when this is over. Or perhaps a large meat pie. Yes. Either will do. {plainlink to: 'Violet Crate Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Violet's breath catches. A sound escapes her throat - barely audible, somewhere between a hiss and a sigh. You near the object and... it's nothing like your own vessel. It's completely inert. "*Useless.*" She snatches the cracked statuette from the crate, thrusting it onto Eleanor. "*Hold this, Lovelace. And don't drop it. Well, you might as well at this point... I need to make notes.*" Violet's back is already turned. A ledger slides from a nearby shelf with a scraping sound. Its pages are flipped rapidly. [[Eleanor cradles what appears to be a surprisingly light object.->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 2]]

Eleanor turns the cracked, pinkish statuette between her palms, her brow furrowed. Her gloved finger traces the jagged crack running from base to neck. "*Ah, I see... a shame, yes. But how peculiar.*" Her voice is soft, almost to herself. "*I have a statuette in my office that is strikingly similar to this. I brought it from my flat a couple of days ago... really, I don't even know when or where I got it. Though mine is intact, of course.*" The scratching of Violet's pen on the page stops [[abruptly->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 3]].

[if VioletInterest >= 5] {link to: 'Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 4 HighInterest'} [unless VioletInterest >= 5] {link to: 'Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 4 LowInterest'}

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 3 VioletPlotStealVessel: true -- Violet sets down her pen. She turns around. Her shoulders are straight, her hands rest at her sides. Behind her spectacles, her eyes focus on Eleanor's face. "*Indeed, Miss Lovelace?*" Her voice is quiet. "*How extraordinarily coincidental. [[Describe it to me.->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 4.5]] Its material? Its precise form?*" The questions come impatiently, and without pause. Violet's gaze does not waver.

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- Violet continues writing. Her pen moves across the page in rapid strokes. She does not turn around. "*A similar motif? Trivial.*" Her voice carries across the room. "*Many workshops produced such derivative trinkets. Focus on the task at hand, Lovelace. Your small talk is unproductive.*" The pen scratches against paper. Eleanor shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her mouth opens, then closes without sound. [[The writing continues.->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 5]]

Caught off guard by the sudden shift, Eleanor describes your vessel. As she speaks, Violet's expression remains a mask of scholarly interest, but you can feel the sharp, calculating thoughts whirring behind her eyes. You also spot how her attention, for maybe the first time, slowly drifts to Eleanor's waistline. When Eleanor finishes, Violet forces a small, dismissive smile. "*I really should've known. Fascinating. Such parallels can occur. No doubt a common motif from a lesser-known workshop. Of no particular... consequence, I'm sure.*" The feigned indifference is almost perfect. Almost. [[She turns back to her ledger.->Violet Crate Ending Cutscene 5]]

ResearchProgress: ResearchProgress + 1 -- "*Do not return that to the crate.*" Violet's back remains turned. "*Keep it with your research materials. Perhaps its commonness will yield some insight for your research.*" Her pen moves across the page. The marks are sharp, deliberate. Eleanor clutches the cracked statuette to her chest. "*Thank you, Miss Whitlock. I... I should return to my duties, now.*" Eleanor's footsteps echo in the corridor. The door closes with a soft click. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on.'}

<div class="day-heading">SATURDAY</div> With the dawn of the next day, you feel yourself phasing back into reality. As you regain your senses, you once again find yourself right in front of your vessel - [[but not, in fact, inside Eleanor's office->Violet Basement Cutscene 1]].

CircleObjectsMoved: 0 AltarClothMoved: false CandlestandsMoved: false IncenseBurnerMoved: false -- Awareness returns sharp and immediate. The dusty scent of Eleanor's office has disappeared. Cold stone presses against your vessel's base. The air carries traces of melted wax, burnt herbs, and something metallic. [[Your vessel sits on flagstone now, not polished wood.->Violet Basement Cutscene 1.5]]

<div class="day-heading">END OF THE WEEK</div> The workweek concludes, the final entry on the calendar marked complete. The consequences of your subtle manipulations and Eleanor's determined efforts now coalesce. The hum of the city fades as you feel the pull of what is to come, your awareness focused solely on the path ahead. [if ExpeditionFunds >= 5] A sense of triumph radiates from Eleanor, a warmth of success that resonates even within your ethereal form. She has done it - the expedition is secured. But what does that victory mean for you? [[The future unfolds...->Success Ending Router]] [continue] [unless ExpeditionFunds >= 5] A palpable weight of disappointment hangs in the air, emanating from Eleanor's very core. Despite her efforts, the final sum was not met. The expedition remains a distant dream. [[The future unfolds...->Museum Employment Ending 1]] [continue] [note] 4 main endings To remember that, in the endings where Eleanor stays, there should be different cutscenes based on wether Mary or Richard were prioritized/went further on their respective routes. We can have a router passage for that. 4523452Remove those text, just keep the links.98-82345 [continue]

<div class="day-heading">END OF THE WEEK</div> The workweek concludes, the final entry on the calendar marked complete. The consequences of your subtle manipulations and Eleanor's determined efforts now coalesce. The hum of the city fades as you feel the pull of what is to come, your awareness focused solely on the path ahead. [if ExpeditionFunds >= 5] A sense of triumph radiates from Eleanor, a warmth of success that resonates even with your ethereal form. She has done it - the expedition is secured... [[...but a sudden change of priorities will come to halt all of this.->Chapter 2 Pregnancy Ending 2]] [continue] [unless ExpeditionFunds >= 5] A palpable weight of disappointment hangs in the air, emanating from Eleanor's very core. Despite her efforts, the final sum was not met. The expedition remains a distant dream. [[A sudden change of priorities will come to halt all of her future attemps, too.->Chapter 2 Pregnancy Ending 2]] [continue]

SlotOneAttended: false SlotTwoAttended: false SlotThreeAttended: false TotalCalories: TotalCalories + DayCalories WeightGained (TotalCalories < 5): 'NONE' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 5 && TotalCalories < 13): 'CHUBBY' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 13 && TotalCalories < 21): 'PLUMP' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 21 && TotalCalories < 31): 'FAT' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 31): 'OBESE' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'): 'TUESDAY' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'): 'WEDNESDAY' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'): 'THURSDAY' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'): 'FRIDAY' NextDay (CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'): 'WEEKEND' DayFullnessState (DayCalories <= 2): 'HUNGRY' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 2 && DayCalories <= 5): 'SATISFIED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 5 && DayCalories <= 7): 'STUFFED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 7): 'BURSTING' -- [note] This script needs to be called at the end of each day. It: 1. Adds current DayCalories to a running TotalCalories variable 2. Resets DayCalories to 0 for the next day 3. Sets WeightGained based on thresholds of accumulated calories CHUBBY could also be considered SLIGHT (though keep in mind Eleanor was already quite chubby at the end of the first chapter, so this is not a huge change just yet). PLUMP is NOTICEABLE (attention on her belly, thighs and ass) FAT is SUBSTANTIAL OBESE is UNMISTAKABLE, though FAT is also unmistakable. Eleanor's body prioritizes her belly as her main storage of fat, followed by her chest, ass, thighs, arms, and finally face. [continue]

config.header.right: " " -- [if WeightGained == 'NONE'] {embed passage: 'Left behind Ending / Expedition Approval 1'} [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] {embed passage: 'Left behind Ending / Expedition Approval 1'} [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] {embed passage: 'Left behind Ending / Expedition Approval 1'} [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] {embed passage: 'Merge Ending / Expedition Approval 1'} [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] {embed passage: 'Merge Ending / Expedition Approval 1'}

config.header.right: " " -- <div class="day-heading">MONDAY</div> The Director's knock arrives precisely at nine o'clock Monday morning, followed immediately by his entry without awaiting permission. His tall frame fills Eleanor's doorway, top hat scraping the lintel as he steps into her cramped office. His sharp eyes sweep the room before settling on her desk, where, same as it was on Friday, correspondence and research notes compete for space around your vessel. *"Miss Lovelace."* He approaches with measured steps, a leather portfolio tucked beneath his arm. [[*"I trust you're prepared for some rather significant news?"*->Expedition Approval 1.5]]

Stone foundation walls stretch beyond a handful of dim candles wedged between, and above, wooden storage crates. Steam pipes run along the ceiling, their joints dripping condensation onto the flagstones below. You catch a glimpse of a brass plate hanging beside a narrow stairwell. "~BASEMENT STORAGE - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY~" When you attempt even the slightest movement of energy, it flows without the usual resistance - the effort that typically accompanies your simplest manipulations has vanished entirely. Your essence moves as easily as water finding its level. Three large objects rest throughout the chamber, their positions seemingly deliberate. Beneath them, chalk lines cross the flagstones in intricate patterns. The markings emit a faint [[purple glow->Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama]] that brightens when you focus on them.

You are floating inside of the museum's foundation storage area. Steam pipes cross the low ceiling above wooden crates stenciled with acquisition numbers. A few candle stubs burn in makeshift holders wedged between storage shelves. Chalk lines spread across the flagstones in complex geometric patterns, their purple luminescence pulsing beneath scattered objects. Your [[vessel->Vessel basement]] rests where multiple lines converge. [unless AltarClothMoved] A heavy [[cloth->Violet Basement Altar Cloth]] lies spread across the floor, covering chalk markings between two rows of archived pottery crates. [if AltarClothMoved] The altar cloth bunches against a storage shelf, exposing the complete section of markings beneath. [continue] [unless CandlestandsMoved; append] Three brass [[candlestands->Violet Basement Candlestands]] stand positioned over key points, while [if CandlestandsMoved; append] The three candlestands have been thrown against storage crates points, while [continue] [unless IncenseBurnerMoved; append] a large bronze [[incense burner->Violet Basement Incense Burner]] occupies the space between storage shelves. [if IncenseBurnerMoved; append] the incense burner has dented against a crate marked "MESOPOTAMIAN FRAGMENTS - DO NOT DISTURB,". [continue]

Your vessel. a small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. You're not sure if it's pregnant or merely fat. You can still hear a low hum coming from it. The granite has also gotten much warmer than any of the other days. Much, much warmer. Scolding hot, in fact. But it feels... comfortable. Familiar. {link to: 'Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The final chalk line flares with intense purple light before settling into a steady glow. The completed circle hums with energy that makes the stone floor vibrate beneath your vessel. The air grows thick, almost viscous, and you feel a strange surge of power coursing through you - stronger than you've ever felt before. From the deepest shadows of the basement, footsteps approach. A figure emerges into the circle's glow. [[Violet steps forward, her spectacles reflecting the purple light.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 1.5]]

She moves to the circle's edge, her hands clasped behind her back. Her footsteps are measured, deliberate. She stops at the rim of the glowing marks, never stepping inside. "*Quite thorough work.*" Her voice carries the same precise diction as always. "*All week I've felt your presence - objects trembling, walls reverberating with your passage.*" She begins walking slowly around the circle's perimeter. "*When dear Eleanor mentioned her little statuette... I just couldn't believe it. The vessel I'd been seeking. Right there on her desk.*" She stops walking. "*What a glorious mess you've made. This far exceeds what I'd hoped for.*" [[The energy from the circle pulses stronger.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 2]]

VioletFormRevealed: true -- With a deep, shuddering sigh of relief, Violet's hands move to her waistcoat buttons... and though the light is dim, it just doesn't add up. The first button resists, the fabric pulled taut across her torso. When it gives way, it pops free with a sharp snap. The second button follows, then the third, each release accompanied by the sound of stressed fabric finally yielding. Her waistcoat falls open - beneath it, her white shirt strains much more outward than it should, the cotton stretched thin enough to show the dark outline of her corset underneath. Her hands work at the shirt's buttons, but not for long: the fabric was never designed to contain this much. [[The shirt rips apart completely.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 2.5]]

A massive pale belly emerges, its surface marked with deep red lines where her corset had pressed into the flesh. The corset itself hangs loose now, its laces straining at their maximum extension. Her stomach divides naturally into two distinct rolls - the upper portion sits heavy and round, while the lower roll droops further, its weight pulling it down over her waistband. She reaches behind herself and loosens the corset entirely. As it falls away, her belly expands outward, settling into its natural shape with a soft sound as flesh meets flesh. Above this expanse, her breasts hang heavy and free, their nipples pierced and connected by a thin silver chain that sways with each breath. Her trousers strain at the waistband, the buttons gaping slightly where the fabric refuses to meet. She places both hands flat against her stomach and exhales slowly. The lower roll pushes further over her waistband, the flesh soft and yielding under her palms. "*There... much better.*" Her voice has dropped lower, becoming rougher around the edges. "Let's begin. You and I have much to discuss. [[We have been looking for a proper thrall for a long, long time.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 3]]"

Sharp footsteps echo from the stairs above. "*Violet!*" Eleanor's voice carries down the stone steps. The word starts strong but wavers at the end. "*I know you're... I know you took it!*" The footsteps pause, then continue. They're slower now, more hesitant. "*This is... this is wrong! You can't just... just take things that don't belong to you!*" Eleanor's voice cracks slightly on the last words. [[You watch Violet as she looks down at her exposed form, then toward the stairs.->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 3.5 Reset]]

VesselHideTurns: 0 VesselPushes: 0 -- Quickly, she moves toward the basement's darker recesses. Her belly sways heavily with each step, the flesh bouncing softly against itself, the silver chain across her chest catching the purple light as it moves with her breathing. Her bare feet make soft padding sounds against the stone floor. "*Where... where is it?*" Eleanor's voice grows closer. The certainty from her earlier shouts has faded. "*It was on my desk, and now... the door was open, and I heard...*" She appears at the bottom of the stairs. Her workbag is pressed against her chest, her knuckles white where she grips the strap. Her eyes dart around the dim space. "*What is this place?*" The question comes out barely above a whisper. [[Your vessel sits on the stone floor, directly in her path.->Violet Basement Hiding Diorama]]

VesselHideTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): VesselHideTurns + 1 -- [if VesselHideTurns <= 3] You are floating inside the museum's foundation storage area. Steam pipes cross the low ceiling above wooden crates stenciled with acquisition numbers. A few candle stubs burn in makeshift holders wedged between storage shelves, their flames casting shifting shadows across the flagstones. Chalk lines spread across the flagstones in complex geometric patterns, their purple luminescence pulsing faintly beneath the debris. The markings seem to respond to your presence, brightening when you focus on them. [[Eleanor->Violet Basement Hiding Eleanor]] moves through the foundation storage area, her footsteps echoing off stone walls. Her eyes scan the scattered objects and overturned storage containers. Your [[vessel->Violet Basement Vessel Object]] sits directly in her path. *** [if VesselHideTurns <= 3] {embed passage: 'Violet Basement Hiding Dialogue'} [continue] [if VesselHideTurns > 3] You sense a shift in the air around you. The purple glow from the chalk lines dims slightly, their steady pulse becoming irregular. The foundation storage area feels suspended between moments. You recognize the choice before you: either [[see how this concludes->Violet Basement Hiding Failure]] - with the sense you may not return to this moment - or [[try again->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 3.5 Reset]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [continue]

Eleanor's usual academic composure is gone, replaced by a righteous fury. Her jaw is set, her eyes narrowed as she focuses solely on retrieving her stolen property. Her blouse is slightly dishevelled from her hurried descent into the basement, and she grips her workbag strap so tightly her knuckles are white. Acting all superior around her, making her feel inadequate or confused was one thing: grabbing artefacts from her office was clearly a step too far. She is not here to research; she is here to reclaim what is hers. {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Your vessel. a small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. You're not sure if it's pregnant or merely fat. You can still hear a low hum coming from it. The granite has also gotten much warmer than any of the other days. Much, much warmer. Scolding hot, in fact. But it feels... comfortable. *Familiar.* {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if VesselPushes <= 2; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a loud, deafening hum...->Violet Basement Vessel Aether Router]] [continue]

[if VesselPushes == 0; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide1] "I know you took it, Whitlock. My statuette." [if VesselPushes == 0; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide1] Eleanor's voice carries through the foundation space, echoing off stone walls. Her footsteps pause, then resume with measured deliberation. [if VesselPushes == 0; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide1] "I saw you watching me all week. Always taking notes. Always... calculating." [if VesselPushes == 0; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide1] Her workbag strap creaks as her grip tightens. [continue] [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide2] Eleanor stops mid-stride as the statuette slides across the flagstones. [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide2] "What... how did..." [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide2] Her head turns toward the storage shelves, then back to the vessel. Her breathing becomes audible in the enclosed space. [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide2] "Violet? Are you... is someone down here with you?" [if VesselPushes == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide2] She takes another step forward, but her movements have become hesitant. [continue] [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide3] The vessel slides again. Eleanor jerks backward, her shoulder striking a storage crate. [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide3] "Stop it. Stop... whatever this is." [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide3] Her voice wavers. She presses her back against the wooden crate, but her eyes remain fixed on the statuette. [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide3] "I just want my property back. I just... I need..." [if VesselPushes == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide3] She pushes away from the crate, extending one trembling hand toward the vessel. [continue] [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide4] The sharp crack echoes through the basement. Eleanor's scream cuts through the air - raw, sudden, without words. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide4] Her footsteps pound against the flagstones as she stumbles toward the stairwell. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide4] The basement door slams above. The sound reverberates down the stone walls. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide4] Silence returns to the foundation storage area. [continue]

[if VesselPushes == 0] {link to: 'Violet Basement Vessel Aether 1'} [if VesselPushes == 1] {link to: 'Violet Basement Vessel Aether 2'} [if VesselPushes == 2] {link to: 'Violet Basement Vessel Aether 3 (Break)'} [if VesselPushes >= 3] BLANK {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'} [continue]

VesselPushes: VesselPushes + 1 -- You direct a pulse of energy toward your vessel. The force flows without the usual resistance - no strain, no gradual buildup of pressure. The blackened stone responds immediately. It slides across the flagstones with a dry scraping sound, travelling farther than intended, but stopping near a storage crate several feet from Eleanor's path. Dust swirls in its wake. {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VesselPushes: VesselPushes + 1 -- Eleanor is persistent. *But so are you.* You focus another pulse into the vessel - a stronger one. The carved stone launches across the foundation floor. It disappears behind a stack of ledgers with a hollow thud against wood. Pottery fragments scatter from a disturbed crate. The vessel comes to rest in the shadows between storage containers, much farther. {link to: 'Violet Basement Hiding Diorama', label: 'Back'}

VesselPushes: VesselPushes + 1 VesselBroken: true -- Eleanor's footsteps approach the vessel's hiding place. There's only one way to prevent her from taking you. It feels... wrong. But, in the moment, you don't see any other way. *[[You'll come to regret this action, in the coming years.->Violet Basement Vessel Aether 3.5 (Break)]]*

VioletPlotStealVessel: false -- You watch as Eleanor's fingers close around your vessel. The warmth of her touch is a familiar comfort - so is the warmth of her chest as she clutches your vessel to it, glaring into the shadows. "*I just can't believe that you'd stoop this low, Whitlock. Robbery - puah! Good riddance!*" she says, her voice trembling with rage. She turns and storms back up the stairs, taking you with her. The faint purple glow of the ritual circle fades behind you, its purpose unfulfilled. {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'You have been reclaimed.'}

You concentrate, gathering all of your strength, and in one, final wave of your hand, you unleash a final wave of force - one much stronger than necessary on such a small object. Your vessel doesn't just slide this time; the thick piece of granite is flung violently through the air, tumbling end over end until it loudly smashes against the far stone wall, impacting it with a sickening [[*CRACK*->Violet Basement Eleanor Departure]].

[if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:0.8 id:hide4] The sharp crack echoes through the basement. Eleanor's scream cuts through the air - raw, sudden, without words. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:hide4] Her footsteps pound against the flagstones as she stumbles toward the stairwell. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:hide4] The basement door slams above. The sound reverberates down the stone walls. [if VesselPushes == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:hide4] Silence returns to the foundation storage area. [continue] [[The chalk lines begin to pulse more rapidly.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 1]]

Violet emerges from the shadows, her face a mask of horror as she sees the fractured state of your vessel. "*No. No! The essence is leaking!*" she hisses, her voice raw. She rushes to the fragments, dropping to her knees with a heavy thud. "*Why... what made you think this was a reasonable thing to do? Have you got no sense of self-preservation, demon? And the others aren't here... the preparations aren't complete...*" All this action. This movement. This purple hue. Where has your strenght gone? [[You feel yourself slowly slipping away.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 1.5]]

And then you feel it. A violent, tearing sensation. Your incorporeal form, your very consciousness, pulled from the broken fragments of the vessel. It's a disorienting, agonizing wrench, like being ripped from your own skin. The world dissolves into a chaotic swirl of color and raw sensation. Then... [[pressure->Violet Ritual Cutscene 2.5]].

Through an increasingly blurry vision, you watch as she pulls a heavy tome from a hidden satchel, its purple-tinged leather seeming to drink the dim light. Her fingers fly across the pages, stopping at a section that starts with "Emergency Transference." "*Well. No other choice, is it there? Not my fault.*" she mutters, her eyes wild. "*The binding must be done. Now.*" [[Kneeling before your fragments, she begins to chant.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 2 (Transformation Start)]] The chalk lines of the ritual circle flare with an intense, blinding purple light. The air crackles with energy.

A crushing weight from all sides as your essence is compressed, then stretched, twisted into a new and unfamiliar shape. Ethereal limbs elongate, joints snap into place where none existed before. It is the pain of being born into a body that was never meant for you. [[Something is taking form.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 3 (Transformation Complete)]]

The chaotic swirl of energy recedes. Your vision sharpens, and you look down, confused. You see... hands. Long, emaciated fingers ending in dark talons. Thin, pale limbs stretched unnaturally. You twist your new form, feeling the unfamiliar pull of muscles and the strange weight of leathery wings sprouting from your back. You are a physical being: a tall, gaunt creature of sinew and bone, a lesser demon of gluttony given lasting form. [[You stand, unsteady, in the center of the fading ritual circle.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 4 (Enslavement)]]

You catch Violet geting to her feet, her breathing heavy, her true form casting a wide shadow in the flickering purple light. She watches you, a look of triump on her face. "Perfect," she breathes. "More than I could have hoped for. And no one to oppose me, too." As you take a disoriented step towards her, she moves too, something heavy in her hands, [[one of its ends scraping on the stone flooring.->Violet Ritual Cutscene 5 (Enslavement)]]

Before you can process her intent, before your new demonic strength can be brought to bear, she is upon you. A thick iron collar, connected to a heavy chain snaps shut around your neck with a final, cold *click*. A wave of purple energy surges through the iron, a searing pain that brings you to your knees. Before you are even told so, you already know that [[you now belong to Violet.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 0]]

Most things have, in this place. You flex your wings - a habit now, after so long in this form. The leathery membrane stretches, catches the purple light that seems to seep from the very stones. When did the walls begin to glow? When did the ceiling rise so high that shadows pool in corners you cannot see? Your chain clinks softly as you shift. The sound echoes strangely in this space that was once just a basement, once merely storage for forgotten things. [[Footsteps approach through the gloom.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 2]]

The basement stretches far. Where once stood neat rows of crates and catalogued artifacts, now there are only vast expanses of smooth floor, worn paths leading toward the far end where shadows gather thickest. People move along those paths - some you recognize from the museum, others are strangers who seem to have emerged from the city above. They carry bundles, platters, offerings. Their footsteps create a constant, low rhythm that has become the heartbeat of this place. You catch glimpses of doorways that certainly were not there before, leading to chambers where these people have made their homes. The scent of cooking food drifts from somewhere unseen. [[The procession continues, endless and patient.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 3]]

[CSS] .very-big { font-size: 56px; font-variant: regular; } .big { font-size: 48px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium { font-size: 36px; font-variant: small-caps; } .medium-small { font-size: 30px; font-variant: small-caps; } .small { font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps; } [continued] <div class="titleScreen"> <center> <h1 style="font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif;"> <span class="big">[[YEARS LATER->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 1]]</span><br> </h1> </center> [continued] The iron around your neck has grown warm.

Her body has grown, massively so. Her body has surrendered completely to abundance, her flesh cascading in soft, generous curves that overflow the throne's carved boundaries. Her belly dominates her form - two distinct rolls, settled into distinct rolls, the lower spreading wide across her thighs that rest heavily in her lap, the upper perpetually swollen and taut from constant feeding. Stretch marks trace reddened patterns across the pale expanse, and each labored breath sends gentle ripples through the perspirated, [[yielding flesh->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 3.5]].

A thin figure approaches from the procession, bearing a simple wooden tray. Upon it sits a modest portion - bread, some fruit, a small cup of wine. They kneel before the throne with practiced reverence, head bowed, arms extended. The tray trembles slightly in their nervous hands. You observe this ritual as you have countless times before. The steady stream of offerings, each one larger than the last, each one disappearing with mechanical efficiency. Sometimes they aren't, though. Not everyone can allow themselves to be as loyal as they should to Glutton, apparently. This has happened before, and it's not much of an issue. [[Nowadays, Violet's mind is too addled to care.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 5]]

Above, her breasts hang in magnificent weight, no longer hidden beneath buttoned jackets. The metal chains connecting her pierced nipples catch the purple light as they sway with her breathing, occasionally brushing against the warm rolls of her arms when she shifts. Her face, framed by hair that hangs loose and unkempt, has too rounded out - full cheeks flushed with warmth, lips stained deep purple from the wine that accompanies most of her meals. She breathes through her parted mouth now, small whimpering, moaning sounds escaping with each exhalation. The stone throne protests with quiet creaks at every movement, though movement has become increasingly rare. [[For the feeding continues without pause.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 4]]

But this cultist is unlucky. As their offerings are placed in front of her, one of her personal attendants approaches from the side, carrying a leg of roasted mutton still steaming from the kitchens below. The attendant begins the familiar ritual - tearing off pieces of meat and guiding them to Violet's waiting mouth. As a particularly large morsel is pressed between her lips, Violet lets out a strained grunt. The sound is automatic, involuntary, merely the body's response to the effort of swallowing such an enormous portion. So is the pained, drawn out belch that follows. But to some ears, it sounds like displeasure. [[A hand closes around your chain.->Violet Cult Epilogue Diorama]]

VioletCultEpilogueTurns: VioletCultEpilogueTurns + 1 config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Ability Immolation Logic'}" -- The throne room stretches before you in all its corrupted grandeur. Violet continues her mechanical consumption, oblivious to the drama unfolding at her feet. The cultist with the meager offering remains frozen in their kneel, uncertain whether to flee or stay. But your attention is drawn to the [[attendant->Violet Cult Offending Cultist]] who still grips your chain. Their knuckles are white with the force of their grasp, and their eyes dart between Violet's continued eating and the inadequate offering before them. Around you, the procession continues its endless march. Other cultists pretend not to notice the tension, but you can sense their nervousness. The purple light seems to flicker with anticipation. *** {embed passage: 'Violet Cult Epilogue Dialogue'}

The cultist remains frozen in their supplicant position, trembling as the tension in the room escalates around them. Their clothes are simple - worn fabric that speaks of modest means, patched in places but clean. You can see the confusion in their hunched shoulders, the way their head remains bowed not in reverence, but in fear. They understand something has gone wrong but cannot comprehend what. How were they to know that such modest fare would be deemed inadequate? Unlucky. Sweat beads on the back of their neck as they await judgment. {link to: 'Violet Cult Epilogue Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if VioletCultEpilogueTurns == 1; dialogue delay: 2s] The attendant's grip on your chain tightens. Their breathing quickens as they watch Violet continue to eat, clearly interpreting every grunt and belch as dissatisfaction with the paltry offering still waiting on the stone floor. [if VioletCultEpilogueTurns == 2; dialogue delay: 3s] A sharp yank on your chain sends pain shooting through your neck. The attendant's patience wears thin, their fury now focused on you. "*Well, demon? What are you waiting for?*" they hiss under their breath, though Violet shows no sign of hearing. [if VioletCultEpilogueTurns == 3; dialogue delay: 4s] Another violent jerk of the chain, harder this time. The iron collar bites into your neck as the attendant's rage reaches its peak. "*Pathetic offering!*" they spit, yanking your chain once more as if commanding you to act. "*You have a duty to our mistress, demon!*"

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("isCutscene",comesFromCutscene()); [continue] {embed passage: 'Deep Ability Immolation Logic'}

[unless passage.name == 'Immolation Abilities Menu'; unless isCutscene == true; unless passage.name == 'Settings'] {link to: 'Immolation Abilities Menu', label: 'Abilities'} [if passage.name == 'Immolation Abilities Menu'] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You take a moment to concentrate on the offending cultist - to ponder your newfound strengths and abilities, and the chained collar stuck to your neck. To remind yourself you have no choice. ➼The Inferno. [[You feel the heat constrained inside your form...->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 6]] {link to: last_ingame_passage, label: 'Back'} [note] [[➼->Immolation Ability] [continue]

config.style.page.color: "black on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.link.color: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#7a2e2e" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a2e2e" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#f0f0f0 on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e6b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e6b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- You feel the heat rise within your demonic form, coursing through your veins like molten metal. Not the subtle influence of your former abilities, but something raw and destructive, befitting your enslavement. Your gaze fixes on the trembling cultist. They sense nothing of what approaches. Why should they? They have committed no crime save poverty, no sin save inadequacy. Unlucky. The attendant yanks your chain once more, and the collar bites deep. [[You move your right hand upwards, right in front of them.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 6.5]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #ffffff" config.style.page.link.color: "#666666" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#555555" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#6633cc on #ffffff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#666666" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#666666" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#555555" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#6633cc on #ffffff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#666666" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#6633cc on #ffffff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffffff on #333333" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#999999" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#9966ff on #333333" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#999999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#9966ff on #333333" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#9966ff on #333333" -- The heat erupts outward in a brilliant, white flare. The cultist has no time to scream - they simply dissolve, their form becoming ash that scatters across the stone floor in an instant. Their modest tray clatters empty where they once knelt. [[The other cultists step back in terrified silence.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 7]] {ascii backdrop: 'hunger'}

config.style.page.color: "black on #f0e6ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#4a3366" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#3d2a55" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#8b4599 on #f0e6ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#4a3366" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#4a3366" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#3d2a55" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#8b4599 on #f0e6ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#4a3366" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#8b4599 on #f0e6ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6ccff on #2a1a3d" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#d9b3ff on #2a1a3d" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d9b3ff on #2a1a3d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#d9b3ff on #2a1a3d" -- The remaining cultists exchange nervous glances but do not flee. They have witnessed such displays before, though perhaps not so... immediate. Within moments, they resume their procession as if nothing has occurred. Behind you, Violet continues eating, oblivious to anything not concerning the next offering. You settle back onto your haunches, wings folding against your emaciated frame. As you survey the vast chamber around you, something becomes unmistakably clear. The walls that once marked the boundaries of a simple museum basement now stretch impossibly far. The ceiling has risen beyond the reach of mortal architecture. [[And still, the floor continues to slope ever so gently downward.->Violet Cult Epilogue Cutscene 7.5]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #e6d9ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#2d1a4d" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#241440" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#5c3973 on #e6d9ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#2d1a4d" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#2d1a4d" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#241440" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#5c3973 on #e6d9ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#2d1a4d" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#5c3973 on #e6d9ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ccb3ff on #1a0d33" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #1a0d33" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #1a0d33" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#b399ff on #1a0d33" -- But you do not despair. The deeper this place descends, the closer it draws to realms you remember. The purple light that emanates from these walls speaks of your ancient patron's influence. The impossible architecture, the endless appetite, the slow dissolution of earthly limitations - all signs that point toward a familiar destination, doesn't it? Your visage smiles, sending some of the weaker-willed cultists in line into a retreat. [[You are going home.->Violet Cult Ending]]

config.style.page.color: "#050210 on #ccb3ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#0d0529" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#080318" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #0d0529" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#1a0d47" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#110733" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#0a0520" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #0d0529" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#1a0d47" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #0d0529" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#b399ff on #030108" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#6650b3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #1a0d47" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#9980e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a66cc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #1a0d47" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#b399ff" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #1a0d47" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.8</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Seeker Of Glutton</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'hunger'}

Eleanor adjusts her grip on the portfolio and raises her hand to knock. From within comes an enthusiastic voice, rising and falling with animated fervor. *"...absolutely magnificent striations in the limestone! You simply must examine the crystalline structure..."* She glances down at her sketches, then back at the door. [[She knocks.->Geology Club Starting Cutscene 1.5]]

The door swings open to reveal a rotund gentleman with wild gray hair, spectacles sliding down his nose. His eyes light up immediately. *"Ah! Miss Lovelace! Splendid, absolutely splendid!"* He gestures with a small geological hammer. *"Duke of Millbrook - you've arrived at precisely the right moment. We were just discussing the sedimentary qualities of..."* He turns and strides back into the sitting room, still talking. [[Eleanor follows.->Geology Club Starting Cutscene 2]]

GeologyClubTurns: 0 EleanorCuriosity: false DukePersuaded: false DukeGraniteUsed: false DukeMarbleUsed: false DukeObsidianUsed: false NautilusThrown: false -- {reset dialogue} The sitting room buzzes with subdued conversation as Eleanor steps inside. Several gentlemen cluster around display cases filled with geological specimens, their voices a murmur of technical terms and enthusiastic observations. The Duke gestures toward an ornate chair near his prized collection. *"Please, please! Make yourself comfortable,"* he says, already turning to examine a piece of what looks like ordinary limestone with intense fascination. *"Now, where were we? Ah yes, the metamorphic processes..."* Eleanor settles into the offered chair, portfolio balanced on her lap, as the Duke launches into an animated lecture seemingly directed at no one in particular. [[The meeting begins.->Geology Club Diorama]]

GeologyClubTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): GeologyClubTurns + 1 -- [if GeologyClubTurns < 4] You hover inside the Duke's sitting room, transformed into what he no doubt considers a geological salon. Glass display cases line the walls, filled with the [[geological collection->geological collection]]. Near the window, the [[Duke->Duke Geology Club]] examines specimens with intense concentration, occasionally turning to address [[Eleanor->Eleanor Geology Club]], who sits somewhat stiffly in her chair, portfolio clutched in her lap. Several other [[club members->club members]] drift about the room, while on a side table sits a [[platter of macarons->platter of macarons]]. *** [continue] [unless EleanorCuriosity] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Dialogue Main'} [if EleanorCuriosity] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Dialogue Curiosity'} [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns >= 4] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the geology club meeting's conclusion->Geology Club Ending Router]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Geology Club Starting Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

The Duke's prized collection fills multiple glass display cases that line the sitting room walls. Specimens are arranged with passionate enthusiasm rather than scientific precision - chunks of limestone bearing visible sedimentary layers sit beside gleaming pieces of quartz, their crystalline faces catching the afternoon light. A particularly impressive granite sample dominates the central case, its feldspar inclusions clearly labeled in the Duke's enthusiastic handwriting. You observe mica samples that split into paper-thin sheets, dark schist bearing the pressure striations the Duke so loves to discuss, and what appears to be perfectly cubic pyrite formations. Near the window, a spiral shell catches your attention - a petrified nautilus that seems oddly out of place among the purely geological specimens. The Duke's handwritten label confidently identifies it as "Remarkable Spiral Formation - Natural Mathematical Precision". {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The Duke of Millbrook stands hunched over a specimen, his rotund frame barely contained by a waistcoat that has seen better days. Wild gray hair escapes from what was presumably once a neat arrangement, while his spectacles perpetually threaten to slide off the end of his nose. In one hand he clutches a small geological hammer, which he waves about with alarming enthusiasm as he speaks. His other hand hovers protectively over whichever rock currently holds his attention, as if someone might snatch it away at any moment. {one of: ["*He adjusts his spectacles and peers intently at what appears to be a perfectly ordinary pebble.*", "*The Duke taps his hammer against a specimen, listening to the sound with the intensity of a music critic.*", "*He suddenly pivots to examine a different rock, muttering something about 'fascinating mineral striations.'*", "*His eyes light up as he spots another specimen across the room. Nope, just a snail.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Duke persuasion menu]] [continue]

Eleanor sits rigidly in the ornate chair, her portfolio balanced carefully on her lap. Her honey-blonde hair is pulled into its usual bun, though a few wisps have escaped to frame her increasingly flustered face. Her hands rest tensely on the leather binding of her research materials. She keeps glancing between her unopened portfolio and the Duke, clearly waiting for an opportunity to present her work. Her lips purse slightly as each attempt to steer the conversation toward her expedition is derailed by enthusiastic - obsessive, really - geological observations. {one of: ["*She adjusts her position in the chair, trying to catch the Duke's wandering attention.*", "*Her fingers drum quietly against her portfolio as she waits for a break in his geological monologue.*", "*She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again as the Duke pivots to yet another specimen. This one is marble.*", "*A small sigh escapes her.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Geology Club persuasion menu]] [continue]

A half-dozen gentlemen of various ages drift about the room in small clusters, their voices forming a constant murmur. Most wear well-tailored waistcoats and frock coats that speak of comfortable means, though none quite match the Duke's enthusiastic dishevelment. Near the far wall, two elderly men lean over a display case, one tapping the glass with a walking stick while pointing at what appears to be a piece of ordinary slate. A younger gentleman with meticulously waxed whiskers circles the room's perimeter, examining each specimen through a jeweler's loupe with methodical precision. His notebook remains perpetually open, though you observe he seems to write very little. {one of: ["*One member holds up a chunk of quartz to the window light, squinting at it as if it might reveal celestial secrets.*", "*Two gentlemen engage in animated discussion about 'crystalline matrices,' gesturing with the fervor of men who have found their life's calling in rocks.*", "*A portly fellow with a impressive beard carefully weighs a specimen in his palm, nodding sagely at whatever geological wisdom it imparts.*", "*Someone near the fireplace mutters something about his 'very cool quartz' having been stolen while polishing his spectacles.*"], order: 'cycling'} {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

A silver serving platter displays what were once delicate French macarons - pastel-colored shells - pale yellow, dusty rose, mint green - have hardened into something approaching geological samples themselves. They sit in perfectly aligned rows, their surfaces cracked and brittle, more reminiscent of mineral formations than confections. You suspect they've been sitting here since the Duke's last social gathering, which may have been some considerable time ago. The almond flour shells have achieved an almost limestone-like texture, and one has actually developed what appears to be a small fissure running through its center. Put simply, they seem to be... *hard as rocks.* {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if EleanorCuriosity; if DukePersuaded] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Success Ending'} [if EleanorCuriosity; if NautilusThrown] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Nautilus Ending'} [unless EleanorCuriosity; if DukePersuaded] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Standard Failure'} [unless EleanorCuriosity; unless DukePersuaded] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Standard Failure'} [if EleanorCuriosity; unless DukePersuaded; unless NautilusThrown] {embed passage: 'Geology Club Standard Failure'} [continue]

[if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geologycur1] Eleanor gestures toward the collection, her eyes fixed on a particular specimen. [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur1] *"Your Grace, I couldn't help but notice that fascinating... shell formation in your collection. It bears a remarkable resemblance to certain symbols in my research..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur1 newline] The Duke glances briefly toward his prized nautilus. [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur1] *"Ah yes, magnificent specimen! The spiral formation demonstrates perfect mathematical precision. Though of course, it's the mineral composition that truly..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geologycur1] He picks up a piece of slate instead, completely missing her point. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geologycur2] Eleanor presses on, opening her portfolio to show her sketches. [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur2] *"The spiral patterns here, Your Grace, they mirror the formation of that shell. Ancient peoples might have used such forms to indicate..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur2 newline] *"Spiral patterns! Yes, yes!"* the Duke exclaims, waving his hammer enthusiastically. [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur2] *"We see similar formations in crystalline structures. The way pyrite develops its cubic patterns, or how quartz forms its hexagonal..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geologycur2] Eleanor's sketches remain unexamined as he launches into mineral geometry. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geologycur3] Eleanor makes a more direct attempt, rising from her chair. [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur3] *"That particular shell, Your Grace - if ancient miners encountered similar formations, they might have developed symbols based on such natural shapes..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur3 newline] The Duke follows her gaze briefly, then immediately pivots to a chunk of granite. [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geologycur3] *"Natural shapes, precisely! The way crystals arrange themselves in igneous rock is nature's own architecture. Notice these inclusions..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur3] Eleanor settles back into her chair, her nautilus gambit apparently falling on deaf ears. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geologycur4] Eleanor makes one final attempt, her voice growing slightly desperate. [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur4] *"Your Grace, if we could just focus on that shell for a moment - the connection to my Breton expedition..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geologycur4 newline] *"Breton formations!"* the Duke brightens, clutching a piece of mica. [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geologycur4] *"The metamorphic processes in that region are absolutely extraordinary. The way schist develops under pressure..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geologycur4] Eleanor closes her portfolio, her nautilus strategy proving equally futile. [continue]

[if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geology1] Eleanor clears her throat politely, opening her portfolio. [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology1] *"Your Grace, I was hoping to discuss some symbols I've discovered in my research. They appear to be... um, related to ancient mining practices..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology1 newline] The Duke looks up sharply from his specimen. [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology1] *"Mining? Ah yes, fascinating field! Though I must say, Miss Lovelace, you simply must see this limestone formation first. Notice the sedimentary layers... a thing of wonder!"* [if GeologyClubTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geology1] He thrusts the rock toward her, completely ignoring her portfolio. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geology2] Eleanor makes another attempt, holding up one of her sketches. [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology2] *"These particular markings, Your Grace, suggest ancient tool use that might indicate..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology2 newline] *"Ahhh, tool marks! Splendid!"* the Duke exclaims, setting down his hammer with enthusiasm. [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology2] *"That reminds me of the striations we see in metamorphic schist. The pressure creates the most remarkable patterns..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geology2] He begins rummaging through his collection, muttering about crystalline structures. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geology3] Eleanor's voice takes on a slightly strained quality. [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology3] *"If I might return to the matter of funding, Your Grace... these symbols could indicate significant mineral deposits."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology3 newline] The Duke pauses, a piece of what might be quartz in his hand. [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geology3] *"Mineral deposits? Well, yes, naturally. But first, you absolutely must examine this specimen. I believe it contains feldspar inclusions. Isn't that something!"* [if GeologyClubTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology3] Eleanor's portfolio remains unopened in her lap. [continue] [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:geology4] Eleanor makes one final, rather desperate attempt. [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology4] *"Your Grace, perhaps we could discuss the practical applications of geological survey work in Brittany... if you could just look here..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:geology4 newline] *"Brittany!"* The Duke's eyes light up. [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:geology4] *"Wonderful granite formations there! The feldspar content is absolutely remarkable. Did you know that Breton granite contains..."* [if GeologyClubTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:geology4] Eleanor closes her portfolio with a small, defeated sigh. [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the Duke's mind. His thoughts are scattered, jumping from specimen to specimen with obsessive enthusiasm. Some threads of geological passion burn brighter than others... [unless EleanorCuriosity] ➼[[**GRANITE**->Granite Duke Geology]] *Solid foundation... igneous formations... no, must focus on the feldspar content first...* ➼[[**MARBLE**->Marble Duke Geology]] *Metamorphic processes... such beautiful striations when properly examined... perhaps this visitor appreciates quality specimens...* ➼[[**OBSIDIAN**->Obsidian Duke Geology]] *Volcanic glass... precise fracture patterns... clarity of structure reveals all impurities...* [if EleanorCuriosity] ➼[[**GRANITE**->Granite Duke Geology]] *Solid foundation... igneous formations... no, must focus on the feldspar content first...* ➼[[**MARBLE**->Marble Curiosity Duke Geology]] *Metamorphic processes... such beautiful striations when properly examined... perhaps this visitor appreciates quality specimens...* ➼[[**OBSIDIAN**->Obsidian Curiosity Duke Geology]] *Volcanic glass... precise fracture patterns... clarity of structure reveals all impurities...* [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You shift your focus to Eleanor's mind. Her thoughts circle between frustration and determination, searching for some angle that might capture the Duke's wandering attention. ➼[[**CURIOSITY**->Curiosity Eleanor Geology]] *That collection... perhaps if I examine it more closely, I might find something that actually connects to my research...* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

DukeGraniteUsed: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- Ancient symbols? Mining applications? Preposterous! Does she take me for a fool? My collection represents millions of years of geological processes, not some... archaeological speculation. Igneous formations don't concern themselves with human interpretations. This limestone specimen displays perfect stratification - each layer compressed over millennia, solid and unchanging. Like my principles. I shall not be swayed by fanciful theories about symbol meanings when there are proper mineralogical classifications to consider. That young woman clearly lacks appreciation for true geological science. Perhaps she should focus on cataloguing pottery shards instead of bothering serious collectors with these... imaginative connections. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DukeMarbleUsed: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- Metamorphic processes... fascinating how limestone transforms under pressure and heat, becoming something entirely new. Malleable, responsive to influence. Perhaps... yes, perhaps this young woman's theories deserve closer examination. Geological formations do reveal patterns that ancient peoples might have observed. The way crystals arrange themselves, the striations in rock faces... it's not entirely impossible that early miners would have developed symbolic representations based on what they encountered underground. Miss Lovelace seems earnest in her research. One must remain... flexible... when examining new hypotheses. Even though they bore me. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

DukeObsidianUsed: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- [unless EleanorCuriosity] Volcanic glass... clarity of thought, sharp precision. Wait. Wait just a moment. Ancient symbols? Mining connections? Have I gone mad? What absolute nonsense am I entertaining? Geology is a science of facts, not flights of fancy. Mineral composition, crystalline structure, stratigraphic analysis - these are concrete realities. Not... not whatever romantic notions this young woman is proposing about symbolic interpretations. I should be examining my specimens properly, not listening to archaeological speculation. Time to end this distraction and return to form. [continue] {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

EleanorCuriosity: true GeologyClubTurns: 0 -- He's not listening. Not really. Every time you mention your research, his eyes drift back to those specimens. It's as if you're speaking a completely different language. But... what exactly is he seeing in them? The way he handles each piece, the reverence in his voice when he describes their properties... there must be something remarkable about this collection to inspire such devotion. [[You find yourself leaning forward to get a better look.->Curiosity Eleanor Geology 1.5]]

DukeMarbleUsed: true DukePersuaded: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- Metamorphic processes... fascinating how limestone transforms under pressure and heat, becoming something entirely new. Malleable, responsive to influence. Perhaps... yes, perhaps this young woman's theories deserve closer examination. Geological formations do reveal patterns that ancient peoples might have observed. The way crystals arrange themselves, the striations in rock faces... it's not entirely impossible that early miners would have developed symbolic representations based on what they encountered underground. Miss Lovelace seems earnest in her research. One must remain... flexible... when examining new hypotheses. Even though they bore me. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

NautilusThrown: true DukeObsidianUsed: true GeologyClubTurns: 4 -- [if EleanorCuriosity] Volcanic glass... clarity of thought, sharp precision cutting through confusion. Wait. Hold on. That spiral formation she keeps mentioning... that's not a geological specimen at all, is it? *Good heavens!* I've been displaying a mollusk fossil as if it were a mineral sample! How mortifying! No wonder she seemed confused by my geological classifications. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Well. Can't have biological specimens contaminating a proper geological collection, can we? I need to get rid of it. RIGHT. NOW. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The cases are filled with an impressive variety of stones and formations. Some you recognize - quartz, limestone, what might be granite - but others are completely unfamiliar. Each specimen is carefully labeled with location and date of acquisition. And there, nestled between a chunk of rough marble and some kind of crystalline formation, is... is that a shell? How fascinating that the Duke would include such a piece in his geological collection! All in all, a somewhat bold choice. Well... you could work with this. {link to: 'Geology Club Diorama', label: 'Back'}

GeologyClubAttended: true ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 2 SlotThreeAttended: true -- A distant voice calls from another room, interrupting the conversation mid-sentence. *"Your Grace! The specimens from Cornwall have arrived!"* The Duke pauses, torn. *"Ah! The timing!"* He glances at Eleanor, then at the collection, his eyes bright with genuine interest. *"Miss Lovelace, your connection between those ancient symbols and natural spiral formations... quite revolutionary thinking! I must contribute to such innovative research."* He pulls out a small leather purse, quickly writing a cheque, then pushing it into Eleanor's hands. *"Here - a modest investment in your expedition. And do write to me from Brittany! I should be most interested to hear what geological formations you encounter. Oh, and the expedition too, of course! But do send me some samples first."* [[At that, you watch him hurrying off to examine his new specimens.->Geology Club Standard Ending]]

GeologyClubAttended: true SlotThreeAttended: true -- The Duke strides purposefully toward his collection. *"Miss Lovelace, I'm afraid... there's been a terrible misunderstanding."* He reaches into the display case and withdraws the spiral specimen with obvious distaste. *"This... this is not a geological formation at all!"* Eleanor watches in growing confusion as the Duke holds the nautilus at arm's length, as if it might contaminate his other specimens. [[*"Your Grace, I don't understand..."*->Geology Club Nautilus Ending 2]]

GeologyClubAttended: true SlotThreeAttended: true -- A distant voice calls from another room, interrupting the Duke's geological monologue mid-sentence. *"Your Grace! The specimens from Cornwall have arrived!"* The Duke's eyes light up with fresh enthusiasm. *"Ah! Splendid! You must excuse me, Miss Lovelace. Duty calls, as they say."* He sets down his current specimen and hurries toward the voice, his geological hammer still clutched in one hand. *"Do help yourself to the refreshments,"* he calls over his shoulder, already disappearing through the doorway. [[*"And thank you for... well, for visiting!"*->Geology Club Standard Ending]]

Eleanor sits alone in the still quite busy sitting room, her unopened portfolio still balanced on her lap. The other club members continue their quiet conversations, but without the Duke's boisterous immediate presence, all of a sudden the gathering feels rather hollow. She closes her portfolio and, with a soft sigh, rises from her chair. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

*"It's... it's biological! A mollusk! A sea monster!"* The Duke's voice rises with each word, his face flushing red with embarrassment. *"How could I have been so careless? Displaying marine fauna alongside proper mineral specimens! I'm but a fraud!"* The other club members begin to take notice, their quiet conversations fading as they turn to observe the commotion. Eleanor shrinks slightly in her chair, her portfolio clutched defensively to her chest. *"This... this shell has no place in a geological collection!"* The Duke marches toward the window, his spectacles sliding down his nose with agitation. [[*"I shall make sure of it!!*"->Geology Club Nautilus Ending 3]]

With a dramatic flourish and perfect, expertly trained form, the Duke simply hurls the petrified nautilus through the open window. The spiral shell arcs gracefully through the afternoon air before disappearing into the garden below with a distant *thud*. After catching is breath, the Duke slowly turns around, his eyes wide open as Eleanor sits frozen, speechless - [[something shared by the rest of the visitors.->Geology Club Nautilus Standard Ending]]

A distant voice calls from another room. *"Your Grace! The specimens from Cornwall have arrived!"* The Duke's eyes light up with fresh enthusiasm. *"Ah! Splendid! You must excuse me, Miss Lovelace. Duty calls, as they say. Ah!"* As if nothing happened, you watch as he hurries towards the door, his geological hammer still clutched in one hand. *"You people help yourself to the refreshments,"* he calls over his shoulder, already disappearing through the doorway. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: '*"And thank you for... well, for visiting!"*'}

Perfect! Now it reads like an actual museum office visitor log - mostly routine departmental business with specific entries appearing based on attended events where people actually came to Eleanor's office. This feels much more authentic and grounded in the museum setting. Ok, but see: are you sure these times make sense, relative to the events you are referring to? Why don't you read through them, and try to find signs that would point you to the right time? [if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue][if TeaWithMaryAttended] "*Miss M. Thornton - Social call - 3:30 PM - Personal visit*" [continue]

The carriage wheels rattle over cobblestones as Eleanor clutches her evening bag, watching the grand facades blur past the window. Mary sits opposite, practically vibrating with excitement, her gloved hands smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her burgundy silk gown. *"Oh, Eleanor, this will be absolutely splendid!"* Mary's eyes shine with anticipation. *"Lady Pemberton herself will be there, darling! And I've secured us places at the Ashworth table - they're frightfully influential with the Archaeological Society's funding committee."* She leans forward conspiratorially. *"I've arranged *everything* - the gown, the introductions, even spoken to the right people beforehand. Trust me, this is exactly what your expedition needs."* [[The carriage turns onto a grand avenue lined with mansions.->Society Ball Starting Cutscene 1.5]]

SocietyBallTimesReset: 0 -- Eleanor shifts uncomfortably, acutely aware of how her everyday corset digs into her expanding waist. The anticipation in Mary's voice only heightens her growing anxiety about the evening ahead. *"Mary, about the gown... I should mention that my measurements have... perhaps changed somewhat recently. Since you last-"* *"Nonsense, darling!"* Mary waves a dismissive hand, her attention already drifting to the approaching mansion. *"I had the seamstress work from last season's fittings. A lady of quality adapts to her attire, not the reverse! You'll look absolutely divine."* The carriage draws to a halt before an imposing Georgian mansion, its windows blazing with electric light and the sound of a string quartet drifting into the evening air. [[The ballroom awaits.->Society Ball Starting Cutscene 2]]

SocietyBallTurns: 0 MaryBallAnimus: '' BallCalories: 0 IndustrialistConvinced: false PatronWifeConvinced: false PianistConvinced: false EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded: false IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: false PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: false PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: false SocietyBallTimesReset: SocietyBallTimesReset + 1 -- A footman opens the carriage door, and Mary sweeps out in a rustle of silk, chin raised, shoulders straight. She steps onto the marble with practiced grace, already scanning the other guests with bright, assessing eyes. Eleanor follows more hesitantly, her stomach already tight with anxiety that has nothing to do with hunger. The mansion's entrance hall gleams with marble and crystal, the electric chandeliers casting everything in warm, flattering light. Well-dressed guests drift past in a constant stream of silk, satin, and carefully modulated conversation. *"Come along, darling!"* Mary links arms with Eleanor, guiding her toward a side room where attendants wait with evening gowns arranged on wooden forms. You watch Eleanor's expression as she catches a glimpse of the gown Mary has selected - emerald green silk with an intricate beaded bodice. [[The next hour or so is a blur.->Society Ball Starting Cutscene 3]] [note] We might want to consider having the pianist's choices locked behind diorama's resets, to have a unique mechanic with him. [continue]

The fitting proved... challenging. You witnessed Eleanor's mortification as the emerald silk refused to close properly across her expanded middle, the seamstress's assistant tugging and adjusting with barely concealed disapproval. Mary's solution - a different corset, pulled mercilessly tight - created the illusion of fit while ensuring Eleanor could barely draw a full breath. You have observed Eleanor dutifully following Mary through the ballroom's social minefield, managing polite conversation with museum patrons and their wives. The champagne flutes pressed into her hands have been consumed more from nervousness than thirst, and the constant stream of canapés offered by circulating waiters has provided an admittedly dangerous comfort to her anxiety. Now, as the evening reaches its stride, you observe Eleanor stationed near the buffet table with Mary and three other guests. Her breathing comes in short, careful intervals - each inhalation a calculated risk against the dress's merciless constraints. The beaded bodice catches the chandelier light with every slight movement, while her gloved hands unconsciously smooth the silk over her constrained waist. [[You focus your attention on the gathered company.->Society Ball Diorama]]

SocietyBallTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): SocietyBallTurns + 1 -- [if SocietyBallTurns <= 1] You hover within the ballroom's electric-lit splendor, positioned near the elaborate buffet table where crystal and silver catch the chandelier's glow. The string quartet's waltz drifts over the murmur of polite conversation and the subtle rustle of silk. [if SocietyBallTurns <= 6] [[Eleanor->Eleanor Society Ball]] stands near a [[buffet table->buffet table Society Ball]] with careful posture. Beside her is [[Mary->Mary Society Ball]], as well as [if SocietyBallTurns <= 3; append] an [[industrialist->Industrialist Society Ball]] examining his pocket watch and [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns <= 6] a [[patron's wife->Patron Wife Society Ball]]. In the background, the [[pianist->Pianist Society Ball]] observes the gathering with detached precision. [continue] *** [unless MaryBallAnimus] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Dialogue'} [if MaryBallAnimus == 'FOCUS'] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Dialogue Focus'} [if MaryBallAnimus == 'LUST'] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Dialogue Lust'} [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns > 6] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[proceed with the evening's conclusion->Society Ball Ending Router]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this encounter over from the beginning->Society Ball Starting Cutscene 2]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

[if WeightGained == 'NONE'] Eleanor stands with careful composure, her emerald silk gown's beaded bodice catching the chandelier light with each measured breath. Her honey-blonde hair has been arranged in an elaborate style, though a few wisps have already escaped to frame her freckled face. The gown's fitted waist creates a flattering silhouette, though you notice her gloved hand occasionally pressing against her middle. She maintains polite conversation with practiced effort, her breathing shallow and controlled. The dress fits well enough, but the merciless corset beneath forces her movements to be deliberate and restrained. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] Eleanor stands with studied grace, though her emerald gown's beaded bodice strains slightly across her expanding middle. Her honey-blonde hair, pinned in an elaborate coiffure, shows signs of the evening's exertion with dampness at the nape of her neck. The dress's waist seam sits higher than intended, pressed upward by the new softness that has begun to round her figure. Each careful breath causes the bodice's beading to shift and catch the light differently. Her gloved fingers occasionally dart to adjust the gown's neckline, while her movements have grown more cautious to avoid testing the dress's increasingly tight constraints. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor stands as still as possible, her emerald gown pulled taut across her bulging middle. The beaded bodice, clearly designed for a smaller figure, gaps slightly between its fastenings despite the punishing corset beneath. Her honey-blonde hair, once perfectly arranged, now shows signs of distress - loose strands clinging to her flushed forehead. Her breathing comes in careful, shallow gasps that make the overstressed fabric creak faintly. The gown's waist seam has been pushed upward by her protruding belly, creating an unflattering bunching of silk. She shifts her weight delicately from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable but determined to maintain her social facade. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] Eleanor remains stationary near the buffet table, her substantial figure testing every seam of the emerald gown. The beaded bodice gapes prominently at the fastenings, revealing glimpses of the straining corset beneath. Her honey-blonde hair has fallen partially loose from its pins, framing her now noticeably fuller face and the beginnings of a second chin. The dress's waist has disappeared entirely under the pressure of her hanging belly, the silk stretched to near-transparency across her considerable girth. Her breathing is labored and audible, each inhalation a calculated risk against the dress's failing constraints. When she moves at all, it's with the careful waddle of someone acutely aware that any sudden motion might prove catastrophic. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor remains anchored in place, her massive form having thoroughly defeated the emerald gown's structural integrity. The beaded bodice hangs open in several places, the fastenings simply unable to span her enormous middle. Her honey-blonde hair hangs loose and disheveled around her rounded face, sweat beading on her flushed forehead despite her minimal movement. The dress, clearly a lost cause, has been abandoned to the reality of her proportions. The silk hangs in strained folds around her body, the original waistline now resting somewhere beneath the impressive overhang of her belly. Every breath is a visible struggle, her chest heaving with the effort of drawing air past the wreckage of her corset. [continue] {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Eleanor Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

Mary stands beside Eleanor, her burgundy silk gown immaculate and her dark curls arranged in an elaborate coiffure. She holds her champagne flute loosely, gesturing with it as she speaks, the crystal catching the light with each animated movement. [unless MaryBallAnimus] Her gaze darts between Eleanor and the other guests in rapid succession. Her smile remains constant, bright and fixed, as she nods at regular intervals. She leans forward when others speak, her head tilting at precise angles, her eyes bright and attentive. [if MaryBallAnimus == 'FOCUS'] Her usual rapid glances have slowed, her attention settling more frequently on Eleanor's face and posture. When Eleanor speaks, Mary's head tilts to one side and stays there. The champagne flute hangs motionless in her grip, the contents undisturbed. [if MaryBallAnimus == 'LUST'] A subtle flush colors her cheeks despite the evening's coolness. Her gaze follows the line of Eleanor's neckline, the way the emerald silk pulls across her figure, the delicate motions of Eleanor's gloved hands. When she thinks no one is watching, her tongue darts briefly across her lower lip. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Mary Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

A tall, lean gentleman with silver-streaked temples stands slightly apart from the group. His evening wear is impeccable but understated - quality fabric without ostentation. His left hand holds a gold pocket watch that he consults with mechanical regularity, while his right adjusts his cufflinks with the same methodical precision. When others speak, his gaze shifts between their faces and the ballroom's exits. His champagne glass remains untouched, condensation beading on the crystal as it sits forgotten on the nearby table. He nods at appropriate intervals during conversation, but his responses are brief - single sentences delivered in clipped tones. You notice his attention sharpen whenever Eleanor mentions archaeological discoveries, though his expression remains carefully neutral. During these moments, the pocket watch snaps shut with a decisive click. {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Industrialist Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

A woman in her forties with an elaborate peacock-blue gown that emphasizes her... considerable bosom. Her graying hair is swept into an ornate arrangement adorned with pearls and small diamonds that catch the chandelier light. Rings glitter on nearly every finger as she gestures with her wine glass. She adjusts her pearl necklace with practiced movements, the strand sliding smoothly between her gloved fingers. Her posture remains perfectly erect despite the evening's duration, her shoulders set with the bearing of someone accustomed to lengthy social engagements. When she speaks, her voice carries the polished cadence of drawing room conversation. Her fan rests closed in her left hand, occasionally tapping against her wrist in a steady rhythm. The wine glass in her right hand requires frequent attention from passing servants. {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Patron Wife Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

A thin, angular man stands slightly removed from the main group, his black evening wear perfectly pressed but somehow austere compared to the others' finery. His dark hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place. His pale hands rest clasped behind his back, fingers long and nimble from years at the keyboard. His posture remains rigidly upright, as if perpetually seated at a piano bench. When others speak, his head turns toward them with mechanical precision, but his pale eyes remain fixed at a point just over their shoulders. His lips form a thin, neutral line that never quite resolves into either smile or frown. Maybe more of the former, though again, it's hard to tell. He holds no drink. He touches no refreshments. His hands never gesture during conversation. His gaze occasionally sweeps across the gathering with the detached observation of someone cataloguing rather than participating. {plainlink to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless PianistSocietyBallPersuaded; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Pianist Society Ball persuasion menu]] [continue]

[if SocietyBallTurns <= 1] An elaborate mahogany buffet table stretches along the wall, its polished surface gleaming under the electric chandeliers. Silver serving platters display an impressive array of delicate canapés - smoked salmon on small triangles of bread, caviar-topped blinis, and delicate pastries filled with cream and preserves. Crystal bowls hold fresh fruits and miniature tarts, while ornate candelabra cast flickering light across the pristine white tablecloth. The arrangements are perfectly symmetrical, each platter artfully arranged with precision. Not a crumb disturbs the spotless linen. [if SocietyBallTurns == 2] The mahogany buffet table maintains its elegant display, though small gaps have appeared in the previously perfect arrangements. The salmon canapés show clear evidence of selection, with several triangles missing from the geometric pattern. A few crumbs dot the white tablecloth near the pastry selection, and one of the serving spoons rests at a slightly different angle. The crystal bowls still sparkle under the candlelight, their contents largely undisturbed. [if SocietyBallTurns == 3] The buffet table's once-pristine arrangements now show noticeable depletion. The salmon canapé platter has several obvious gaps, while the pastry selection appears considerably diminished. Small crumbs scatter across the white tablecloth in an expanding radius around the most popular items. One of the smaller serving platters sits nearly empty, its contents reduced to a few straggling pieces. [if SocietyBallTurns == 4] The mahogany table's offerings have been substantially reduced through the evening's consumption. Multiple serving platters show significant gaps, with the salmon canapés now scattered rather than arranged. Crumbs and small fragments dot the tablecloth in increasing density, particularly around the cream pastries and miniature tarts. Several serving utensils rest askew, abandoned in haste by guests reaching for choice selections. [if SocietyBallTurns == 5] The buffet table bears clear evidence of sustained attention from the evening's guests. The salmon canapé platter is nearly depleted, while the pastry selection shows dramatic reduction. Crumbs form small scattered trails across the white tablecloth, mapping the most popular items. One corner of the table displays particular evidence of frequent visits - serving spoons rest at random angles, small smears mark the linen, and the candle wax has begun to drip onto the mahogany surface. [if SocietyBallTurns >= 6] The elegant buffet table has been thoroughly enjoyed by the evening's guests. Several platters sit nearly empty, their careful arrangements reduced to scattered remnants. The white tablecloth shows an impressive collection of crumbs, small stains, and the occasional dropped fragment of pastry. [continue] {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'} [note] Remember to add a tooltip for the word Canapè, and blinis. [continue]

SocietyBallAttended: true SlotThreeAttended: true DayCalories: DayCalories + BallCalories ExpeditionFunds (IndustrialistConvinced): ExpeditionFunds + 1 ExpeditionFunds (PatronWifeConvinced): ExpeditionFunds + 1 ExpeditionFunds (PianistConvinced): ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- [if MaryBallAnimus == 'SYMPATHY'] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Rescue Ending 1'} [unless MaryBallAnimus == 'SYMPATHY'] {embed passage: 'Society Ball Humiliation Ending 1'} [continue]

[if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust1] *"Oh, Eleanor, you simply must try the salmon ones!"* Mary begins, reaching for the serving tray. As Eleanor accepts the canapé, Mary's gaze lingers on the way the emerald silk pulls across her middle. [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust1] The patron's wife inclines her head graciously. *"Charmed, I'm sure. Mary speaks of little else lately."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust1] The industrialist checks his pocket watch. *"Archaeological work, you say? Practical applications?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust1 newline] Eleanor manages a polite smile. *"I'm researching Celtic artifacts in Brittany. Potentially significant historical discoveries..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust1] Mary nods absently, her attention fixed on the delicate way Eleanor dabbing her lips with her napkin. *"Historical... yes, quite fascinating..."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust2] *"The work sounds terribly... scholarly,"* Mary murmurs, but her gaze follows the subtle strain of Eleanor's bodice as she reaches for another canapé. [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust2] The pianist speaks flatly. *"History. Dusty business."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust2 newline] Eleanor's corset creaks softly as she continues. *"Actually, the artifacts suggest a previously unknown religious cult. The implications for our understanding of-"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust2] You catch Mary's champagne flute: it tilts forgotten in her hand as she watches Eleanor's chest through her careful breathing. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust3] The industrialist snaps his watch shut. *"Religious cults. Hardly profitable unless there's mineral potential?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust3] Mary barely acknowledges him, her attention entirely absorbed by the way Eleanor's gloved fingers select another treat with such careful precision. [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust3 newline] Eleanor takes a steadying breath, the emerald silk straining audibly. *"The site shows evidence of extensive mining operations. Ancient tunnels, worked stone..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust3] The industrialist checks his watch once more. *"Pressing matters elsewhere."* He strides away. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust4] With the industrialist gone, Mary steps slightly closer to Eleanor, unconfortably so. Her eyes trace the increasing tightness of the emerald gown as Eleanor reaches for her fourth helping. [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust4] The patron's wife adjusts her pearls. *"Modern conveniences have their place, I suppose."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust4 newline] Eleanor's breathing becomes more careful. *"The funding requirements are modest, really. A small expedition could yield remarkable results..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust4] Mary's tongue darts briefly across her lower lip as she watches Eleanor's hand rest unconsciously on her constrained middle. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust5] The orchestra plays a waltz, but Mary doesn't even glance toward the dancers. Her gaze remains fixed on Eleanor's flushed face, the way her chest rises and falls with increasing effort. [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust5] Eleanor shifts uncomfortably. *"Perhaps later. The research really is quite promising. Ancient stone work, ritual objects..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust5 newline] The pianist's pale eyes glint. *"Ritual objects. How... permanent they seem."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust5] Mrs. Whitmore fans herself. *"Such earnest young women these days. Most... energetic."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballLust6] Eleanor takes a deeper breath, the emerald bodice protesting audibly. *"The site shows evidence of significant cultural practices. Quite unprecedented in the region..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballLust6] Mary suddenly focuses, blinking as if surfacing from a trance. *"Eleanor, darling, you're looking rather... warm. Perhaps some air?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballLust6 newline] The pianist steps closer, his intensity focused elsewhere. *"White keys."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballLust6] Mrs. Whitmore sets down her wine. *"Really, such topics at a social gathering. Most inappropriate."* [continue]

[if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus1] *"Eleanor, you simply must try the salmon canapés!"* Mary begins, but her hand pauses mid-reach toward the serving tray. *"Actually, wait - before I forget myself with all this lovely food - tell me about your Brittany project. Properly, I mean."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus1] The patron's wife inclines her head graciously. *"Mary speaks of archaeological work quite often lately."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus1] The industrialist checks his pocket watch. *"Archaeological work? Practical applications?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus1 newline] Eleanor manages a smile, accepting the canapé Mary still offers. *"I'm researching Celtic artifacts in Brittany. The site shows evidence of significant cultural practices..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus1] Mary nods intently, her usual wandering gaze fixed on Eleanor's face. *"Cultural practices? What sort exactly?"* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus2] Eleanor reaches for another canapé, encouraged by Mary's attention. *"The artifacts suggest a previously unknown religious cult. Stone carvings, ritual vessels..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus2] The pianist speaks flatly. *"Religious cults. Dusty business."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus2 newline] *"Oh, but think of the historical significance!"* Mary interjects, leaning forward. *"Eleanor, you mentioned vessels - what were they used for? Ceremonies? Offerings?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus2] Eleanor's eyes brighten at the genuine interest. *"That's precisely what I'm trying to determine. The excavation shows evidence of..."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus3] The industrialist snaps his watch shut. *"Religious ceremonies. Hardly profitable unless there's mineral potential."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus3] Mary waves dismissively at him. *"Oh, not everything is about profit, mister! Eleanor, please continue - the excavation evidence?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus3 newline] Eleanor takes a steadying breath, the emerald silk straining. *"Ancient tunnels, worked stone formations. The mining operations were extensive, but the religious elements suggest something deeper..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus3] The industrialist checks his watch once more. *"Pressing matters elsewhere."* He strides toward the exit. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus4] With the industrialist gone, Mary settles more comfortably. *"Good, now we can speak properly! Eleanor, what do you think these cult practices actually involved? Daily rituals? Seasonal celebrations?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus4] The patron's wife adjusts her pearls. *"Such earnest discussion for a social gathering."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus4 newline] Eleanor reaches for her fourth canapé, emboldened by Mary's focus. *"The evidence suggests elaborate ritual feasts. Communal gatherings centered around a number of possible things, like consumption and..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus4] The pianist's pale eyes fix on *you*. *"Consumption. Interesting choice of words."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus5] *"Ritual feasts!"* Mary exclaims, her voice booming over the orchestra. *"How fascinating! Were these seasonal? Connected to harvests or religious calendar?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus5] Eleanor shifts, her breathing careful but her enthusiasm growing. *"That's what I hope to discover. The funding requirements are quite modest for such potentially groundbreaking research..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus5 newline] The pianist tilts his head. *"Modest funding for foreign excavation."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus5] Mrs. Whitmore fans herself. *"Modern young women and their... scholarly pursuits."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballFocus6] Mary leans closer, her voice earnest. *"Eleanor, this sounds absolutely essential! Surely there are patrons who would see the value?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballFocus6] Eleanor takes a deeper breath, the emerald bodice protesting. *"That's precisely what I hope - to find supporters who understand the scholarly significance..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballFocus6 newline] The pianist's pale gaze intensifies. *"Scholarly pursuits can lead to... unexpected discoveries."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballFocus6] Mrs. Whitmore sets down her wine. *"All this talk of ancient cults. Quite inappropriate for polite company."* [continue]

[if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain1] *"Oh, Eleanor, you simply must try the salmon canapés!"* Mary exclaims, already reaching for the serving tray. *"Mrs. Whitmore, this is my dear friend Miss Lovelace - the one I mentioned with the fascinating archaeological work."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain1] The patron's wife inclines her head graciously. *"Charmed, I'm sure. Mary speaks of little else lately."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain1] The industrialist checks his pocket watch. *"Archaeological work, you say? Practical applications?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain1 newline] Eleanor manages a polite smile, accepting the canapé Mary presses into her hand. *"I'm researching Celtic artifacts in Brittany. Potentially significant historical discoveries..."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain2] *"Historical discoveries!"* Mary's attention flickers toward a passing couple in elaborate dress. *"How... scholarly. Mrs. Whitmore, didn't your nephew just return from Paris? Such fascinating stories!"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain2] The pianist speaks for the first time, his voice flat. *"History. Dusty business."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain2 newline] Eleanor reaches for another canapé, her corset creaking softly. *"Actually, the artifacts suggest a previously unknown religious cult. The implications for our understanding of-"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain2] *"Oh my, is that Lady Pemberton across the room?"* Mary interrupts, craning her neck. *"I simply must introduce you later!"* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain3] The industrialist snaps his watch shut decisively. *"Religious cults. Hardly sounds profitable."* His gaze sharpens slightly. *"Unless there's mineral potential in the region?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain3] Mary waves her champagne flute distractedly. *"Oh, Eleanor's terribly clever about these things. Mrs. Whitmore, you simply must tell me about that divine bracelet!"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain3 newline] Eleanor takes a steadying breath, the emerald silk straining across her middle. *"The site shows evidence of extensive mining operations. Ancient tunnels, worked stone..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain3] *"Ah."* The industrialist checks his watch once more. *"Pressing matters elsewhere. Good evening."* He strides away toward the ballroom's exit. [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain4] With the industrialist gone, Mary immediately brightens. *"Well! Now we can have a proper conversation. Mrs. Whitmore, have you seen the new electric fixtures? Simply revolutionary!"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain4] The patron's wife adjusts her pearls. *"Modern conveniences have their place, I suppose."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain4 newline] Eleanor reaches for her fourth helping from the buffet, her breathing becoming noticeably careful. *"The funding requirements are modest, really. A small expedition could yield remarkable results..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain4] The pianist's pale eyes fix on Eleanor with sudden attention. *"Modest funding for digging in foreign soil. Tell more."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain5] Mary's gaze drifts toward the orchestra. *"Oh, they're playing that waltz I adore! Eleanor, you really should dance tonight. Show off that divine gown!"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain5] Eleanor shifts uncomfortably, her hand unconsciously smoothing the strained silk. *"Perhaps later. The research really is quite promising. Ancient artifacts, worked stone..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain5 newline] The pianist tilts his head slightly. *"Worked stone. Permanent marks left by... temporary hands."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain5] Mrs. Whitmore fans herself delicately. *"Such earnest young women these days. In my time, we concerned ourselves with more... domestic pursuits."* [continue] [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:ballMain6] Eleanor takes a deeper breath, the emerald bodice protesting audibly. *"The site shows evidence of significant cultural practices. Quite unprecedented in the region..."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:ballMain6] Mary suddenly snaps to attention. *"Eleanor, darling, you're looking rather flushed. Perhaps some air?"* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:ballMain6 newline] The pianist's pale eyes fix on Eleanor with intensity. *"Cultural practices. How easily they... spread. From person to person."* [if SocietyBallTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:ballMain6] Mrs. Whitmore sets down her wine glass. *"Really, such topics at a social gathering. Most inappropriate."* [continue]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Eleanor's mind. You start to hear her inner thoughts, a continuous stream of worry and determination. Some threads of dialogue boom above the others. Perhaps, you can add your voice to them… though one in particular has turned too strong to redirect. ➼[[**ANXIETY**->Eleanor Society Ball Anxiety]] *The dress is too tight. Everyone can see. Mary was wrong about the measurements. What if it tears? What if-* ➼[[**PRIDE**->Eleanor Society Ball Pride]] *I belong here. My research has merit. These people need to understand the importance of my work.* <del>**GLUTTONY**</del> *The buffet looks tempting... and I cannot stop myself from reaching over to it.* [if EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded] Eleanor's thoughts are now flowing in the direction you've nudged them. Any further attempt at manipulation would likely be noticed. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the patron's wife's mind. Her thoughts drift languidly, punctuated by moments of sharp irritation. Some threads pulse with more intensity... ➼[[**IMPATIENCE**->Patron Wife Society Ball Impatience]] *This endless chatter... how tedious. Must this conversation continue much longer?* ➼[[**SLOTH**->Patron Wife Society Ball Sloth]] *Must I feign interest in every subject? Wine and comfort are so much more pleasant...* ➼[[**HUNGER**->Patron Wife Society Ball Hunger]] *Those canapés do look rather tempting. Perhaps another glass as well...* [if PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded] Her thoughts have taken on a different quality, influenced by your subtle touch. Further manipulation seems unnecessary. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- The corset is far, far, *far* too tight. Why didn't I insist on a proper fitting? Why did I trust Mary's *"divine seamstress"* and her outdated measurements? Everyone can see. They must see how the fabric pulls, how I can barely... breathe properly. Mrs. Whitmore keeps glancing at my waist with that appraising look. Judging. The pianist stares with those pale eyes of his. Even the industrialist can't stop checking his watch. Am I boring them? And Mary! With her *"darling this"* and *"splendid that"* while she flits about like a butterfly, completely oblivious to... Everything, as usual! Obvlivious to how distracting the scent of her perfume is... or the way her burgundy silk catches the light, how her eyes sparkle when she's animated about something trivial... No! Focus on something else, Eleanor. Like the buffet! Nerves, surely. Just nerves. But another canapé might... might make this worse. What if the seam gives? Oh god! Just... just survive the evening... {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- You straighten your shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of your research portfolio... no, you haven't brought it with you. No matter. Months of meticulous study. Detailed analysis of Celtic artifacts that no one else bothered to examine properly. Original translations of inscriptions that established scholars dismissed as meaningless decorative marks. You belong in rooms like this not because of family connections or social standing, but because of merit. Because you've earned it through scholarship, through genuine intellectual contribution. The expedition you're proposing isn't some romantic adventure - it's serious academic work. And you deserve to be listened for it. It's that simple. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the industrialist's mind. His thoughts are methodical, calculating, wrapped in layers of business efficiency. Some threads burn brighter than others... ➼[[**PERFECTIONISM**->Industrialist Society Ball Perfectionism]] *Proper methodology. Systematic approach. Can't have sloppy operations in any venture...* ➼[[**FASCINATION**->Industrialist Society Ball Fascination]] *Ancient mining techniques... practical applications... how did they achieve such precision with primitive tools?* ➼[[**GREED**->Industrialist Society Ball Greed]] *Profit margins. Return on investment. What's the monetary potential of this... digging expedition?* [if IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded] His thoughts now possess a subtle shift, coloured by your influence. Further interference feels unnecessary. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- The Liverpool factory reports are due tomorrow morning. Henderson's crew finished the valve assemblies three days behind schedule - *again*. Sloppy workmanship, inconsistent tolerances. I need to join them at the pub, one of these evenings. How difficult is it to follow specifications precisely? Every component must meet exact measurements or the entire system fails. The new foreman promises better oversight, but promises are worthless. Need proper quality controls at each stage. Inspection protocols. Documentation procedures. Can't rely on workers' judgment when precision machinery is involved. My watch gains thirty-seven seconds per week. Must remember to have it serviced. Timekeeping should be absolute, not approximate. Details matter. Standards exist for a reason. And this ballroom's acoustics are poorly designed, too. I can barely hear the damn girl. Sound must be reflecting incorrectly off those pillars. The architect clearly prioritized aesthetics over functionality. Typical. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: true IndustrialistConvinced: true -- ...father's collection included Celtic metalwork - intricate patterns, impossible curves. Always wondered about the craftsmen behind them. The girl mentions worked stone, tunnel systems. Organized labor. Supply chains. Even without modern machinery, they built something lasting. Something that endures centuries later. There's beauty in permanence. In work that outlasts the worker. My foundries will crumble eventually. Stock certificates turn to ash. But artifacts... they're still teaching us. Still inspiring. Mother always said the humanities were just as important as engineering. "Feed the soul, not just the ledger," she'd say. Perhaps... perhaps this expedition deserves consideration. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Archaeological expedition. Celtic artifacts. *Financing required.* The girl speaks of discovery, but what's the monetary yield? Ancient trinkets have limited resale value unless they're truly spectacular - and most aren't. It wouldn't be moral to place on the market anyhow. Ancient people cared deeply about their possessions. One can relate. The overhead alone would be substantial. Transport, equipment, labor, permits. Foreign soil means foreign complications. Delays. Cost overruns. And for what return? A few pottery shards and metal fragments that universities will squabble over? Mining potential... perhaps. But without geological surveys, soil samples, proper assessments? Pure speculation. Can't build a business model on old tunnels and wishful thinking. The risk-to-profit ratio is abysmal. No. Too many variables, too little concrete data. Better to invest those funds in proven ventures. Railways, textiles, shipping. My friends and loved ones. This archaeological venture reeks of academic romanticism, not sound business practice. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: true PatronWifeConvinced: true -- Good *heavens*, this child simply will not stop talking. Celtic artifacts, ancient rituals, expedition funding - on and on and *on*. My feet ache, my corset is digging in, and there's perfectly good champagne going to waste while she drones about... what was it? Stone? Rocks? I've had enough of those from the Duke, thank you very much. How much can an archaeological expedition possibly cost? A few hundred pounds? A thousand? *Surely* not more than that ridiculous donation Charles made to the Royal Geographic Society last winter. The girl is obviously desperate - practically trembling with it. Just... just give her what she wants and be *done* with it. Send her off to... where was it? The colonies? Has to be. India? Africa? Perfect. Lovely. Now perhaps she'll leave me in peace. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Mmm, this wine is rather good. Italian, isn't it? Charles would know. He's always going on about vintages and such. Speaking of Charles, I do hope he remembered to tell Patterson about adjusting the drawing room drapes. The afternoon sun has been terribly bright lately. What a lovely shade of green that girl is wearing! Emerald, is it? Or jade? I should ask my dressmaker about something similar for the autumn season. Though perhaps not in that style - rather tight across the middle, isn't it? I can relate. Oh, she's still talking. I really should be listening, but this ballroom is so warm... and my shoes are pinching dreadfully. I wonder if Mrs. Pemberton would mind if I slipped them off under the table? She did mention her new settee last week - the one with the silk cushions. Sounded absolutely divine. Perfect for afternoon naps. The orchestra is playing that waltz again. Rather repetitive, but soothing. Makes one want to close one's eyes for just a moment... no, not yet... {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Those canapés do look rather tempting. The salmon ones, particularly. I've already had... what, three? Four? But they're so delicate, hardly count as proper food, do they? And this wine pairs so beautifully. Just one more, perhaps. I really shouldn't, though. This gown was already rather snug when they fastened it earlier - the bodice pulling tight across my chest, the waist seam riding up over my hips. I can feel how the silk strains when I breathe deeply, how the stays press into the soft flesh above my corset. Mother always said a lady should never appear... abundant. But Charles doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he seems rather fond of the changes. The way my breasts now fill the neckline completely, threatening to spill over; how my bottom has grown rounder, more substantial, making the bustle... unnecessary, really. Even my arms have softened, the sleeves growing snug. *Another* canapé appears on a passing tray. Smoked trout this time. Mmm... It would be rude to refuse. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [unless PianistSocietyBallPersuaded] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward the pianist's mind. His thoughts are sharp, cold, with an undercurrent of something... deeply wrong. The mental landscape feels fractured, dangerous, [if SocietyBallTimesReset < 2; append] sparse and crowded at the same time... [if SocietyBallTimesReset >= 3; append] crowded... [continue] [if SocietyBallTimesReset >= 1] ➼[[**MISOGYNY**->Pianist Society Ball Misogyny]] *Presumptuous. The natural order disrupted. Should know better...* [if SocietyBallTimesReset >= 2] ➼[[**LOATHING**->Pianist Society Ball Loathing]] *Expeditions... foreign ventures... so many variables beyond control...* [if SocietyBallTimesReset >= 3] ➼[[**DERANGEMENT**->Pianist Society Ball Derangement]] *The patterns... yes, always the patterns... fascinating how things... break...* [continue] [if PianistSocietyBallPersuaded] His mind has absorbed your influence with disturbing eagerness. Best not to delve deeper into such thoughts. [continue] {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: true PianistConvinced: true -- Look at her. Stuffed into silk. Breathing like a landed fish. Thinks she's so... clever. Academic. *Important*. Brittany. Foreign soil. Dark holes in the ground. Ancient places where... things happen. To soft, unprepared women who think they understand the world. Who waddle into danger with their stupid little books and their theories and their... bulging... god, it makes my fingers itch for the keys. Sharp keys. *Cutting keys*. Yes. Fund this. Watch her go. Watch her as she heads into cold stone tunnels where the ground is uneven and the air is thin and accidents are so... so very easy to arrange. Or perhaps they arrange themselves. The money means nothing. The entertainment... *invaluable*. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Women. In men's work! Playing at... scholarship. As if their soft brains could comprehend stone and earth and the weight of centuries. Ridiculous! *Obscene*. No restraint. No proper feminine... delicacy. Bursting from silk. This is what becomes of them when they abandon their... proper... place. When they think they can dig and theorize and... expeditions are for men, aren't they? We were all thinking it! Real men with strong backs and stronger minds and good, apt hands and sense of rhythm. Not for... creatures who can barely contain themselves in evening wear. Who pant from the effort of standing upright. Could they stop? Can they stop? Make them stop - I beg of you. Give it back. Let her stay where nature intended. In drawing rooms. In kitchens. Anywhere but where serious work... where *men's* work... is done. Far from me. I don't want this. I want to go home. Please let me go home. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: true -- Keys. White keys. Black keys. Fingers know where... wrong notes. Always wrong notes when they watch. Stop watching, I say. Stop breathing so loud she breathes too loud everyone breathes too loud can't hear the music can't hear anything but breathing and chewing and silk tearing silk always tears in the end doesn't it? I *know* you've seen it. I was there too and will again. Brittany. Britain. Brittle. Things break when you press too hard, and you do learn that the hard way. Bones break. Sound breaks. Silence breaks too sometimes and then what comes out? Give her money. Don't give her money. Money makes noise. Coins falling. Falling like... like her. Will she fall? In dark places? Good. No. Not good. Good? Can't tell anymore. Used to know good from... from the other thing. What was that again? Ah, see, I used to know this one... the other side of good. Black keys. Make it stop make it stop make it STOP playing the same song over and over and she's eating and they're all eating and I can hear their teeth and their stomachs and their hearts beating like drums like hammers like... like... I want my keys back. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Mary's mind. Her thoughts flutter between social concerns and deeper currents, like pages of a fashion magazine caught in a sudden breeze. Some threads seem more prominent than others... [unless MaryBallAnimus == 'FOCUS'; unless MaryBallAnimus == 'LUST'] ➼[[**FOCUS**->Mary Society Ball Focus]] *So many people, so many conversations... no, stop it! I need to pay closer attention to what matters...* [if MaryBallAnimus == 'FOCUS'] ➼[[**LUST**->Mary Society Ball Lust]] *The way that emerald silk clings to her figure... how the bodice strains across her chest... rather fascinating, really...* [if MaryBallAnimus == 'LUST'] ➼[[**GUILT**->Mary Society Ball Sympathy]] *Wait... poor darling. What am I doing?* [continue] ➼[[**AMBITION**->Mary Society Ball Ambition]] *Tonight could advance my position considerably... the right connections... it's all so fun!* ➼[[**VANITY**->Mary Society Ball Vanity]] *I do look particularly radiant tonight. This burgundy silk was an inspired choice.* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

MaryBallAnimus: 'FOCUS' -- Stop it, Mary! You're being absolutely scattered tonight. All this chatter about electric fixtures and bracelets - completely beside the point when Eleanor is standing right here trying to discuss her work. Look at her properly. Really listen. She's been talking about Celtic artifacts and ancient sites, and you've been nodding along without truly hearing a word. That's terribly rude! Eleanor took the trouble to attend tonight specifically for these introductions, and you're failing her completely. Mrs. Whitmore might be influential, but look at her: she's clearly not interested in archaeological discussions. That industrialist, ah, what a sweetheart. He could be interested! And that pianist fellow... oh no, wait a second... I better keep him at a distance. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MaryBallAnimus: 'LUST' -- ...that emerald silk is practically painted onto her body, isn't it? The way it strains across her chest with every breath, those poor fastenings working overtime. And look at that waist. I can see exactly where the corset's digging in, creating such delicious little bulges above and below. She's gotten so beautifully plump since I last really looked. All that eating at the tearoom has certainly... settled on her. The way her bottom fills out that silk when she shifts her weight onto the buffet table - probably doesn't even realize how obvious it is. Far too absorbed in that lovely archaeological chatter of hers. Makes one terribly curious. God, I'm such an idiot! Why did I leave during the fitting? If I helped her out of that strangling corset... ran my hands over that tight, round belly... felt all that warm flesh spilling free. All breathless... and... grateful. God, it's getting hot in here. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MaryBallAnimus: 'SYMPATHY' SocietyBallTurns: 6 -- Oh... oh no. Look at those seams. They're not just tight anymore, they're... they're actually starting to give way. I can see tiny threads pulling apart along the bodice, and that side seam is straining so badly it's gone white with tension. For just a moment you feel that same thrill, watching her body winning its battle against the silk... but then you see her face as she turns your way. She's trying so hard to breathe carefully, the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. She's in genuine distress and you were just... *What's wrong with you?* This poor darling is about to have a wardrobe catastrophe in front of all these people, and it's entirely your fault! You chose this gown, you insisted on that size, you dismissed her concerns about the fitting. She trusted you! Oh dear. You've set her up for public humiliation. You have to do something. Right. Now. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MarySocietyBallPersuaded: true -- This is precisely the sort of evening you needed, and what are you doing? Lady Pemberton is literally *right there* across the ballroom! And the Ashworth table - I was supposed to secure introductions, make myself indispensable. I keep getting distracted by... well, everything! The orchestra, the gowns, Eleanor... no, stop! This is exactly what Uncle warned me about! I'm too scattered, too frivolous. "Social advancement requires focus, my dear." I. Know. Stop saying it! I should be cultivating connections with people who actually matter, not indulging Eleanor's hobbies. Though, if her expedition succeeds, early association could prove valuable, wouldn't it? No, no, that's such a gamble! Meanwhile, Lord Ashworth's wife is probably forming opinions about my suitability for their circle based on my... lack of attention. Gahh, I'm useless! {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MarySocietyBallPersuaded: true -- This burgundy silk was absolutely the perfect choice! The way it catches the chandelier light, how the color complements my complexion under these electric fixtures... simply divine. And the coiffure! Three hours with my lady's maid, but worth every minute. Not a curl out of place, even after the carriage ride. The other ladies here are *trying*, bless them, but that peacock blue on Mrs. Whitmore? Far too bold for her complexion. And poor Eleanor... oh, but she does look rather... *interesting* tonight, doesn't she? That emerald gown was such an inspired choice on my part. The way the bodice pulls across her figure, how she has to breathe so carefully... it really does emphasize her newfound softness quite beautifully. Such a shame she seems uncomfortable, but then again, the effect is rather... mesmerizing. I do look rather magnificent by comparison, yes! This shade of burgundy against my skin... absolutely radiant. {link to: 'Society Ball Diorama', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'Pianist Society Ball persuasion menu'}

Eleanor reaches for another of the diminishing canapé, her movements now a little laboured. The conversation continues around her - Mrs. Whitmore discussing the evening's musical selections, the pianist's pale eyes following her every gesture... Mary laughs at something Mrs. Whitmore says about the orchestra, but her attention drifts back to Eleanor. There's something... different. A subtle shift in the emerald silk, a barely perceptible loosening along the bodice's side seam. And then she sees it: a single thread, pulled taut beyond its breaking point, snaps with the faintest whisper. Then another. The beaded bodice, which has been straining valiantly all evening, begins to surrender in tiny, almost imperceptible increments. Mary's champagne flute freezes halfway to her lips as she watches a small gap appear where silk meets silk, growing wider with each of Eleanor's careful breaths. *[[Oh no.->Society Ball Rescue Ending 1.5]]*

Eleanor reaches for another canapé, her movements careful and measured. The conversation continues around her - Mrs. Whitmore discussing the evening's musical selections, the pianist's pale eyes following her every gesture, Mary gesturing animatedly about the floral arrangements. [[But then it happens.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 1.5]]

A simple motion - Eleanor shifting her weight as she turns to respond to Mrs. Whitmore's question about her research. Nothing dramatic, nothing forceful. But you hear it all the same: a soft sound of silk threads followed by a delicate pop as a seam along the emerald bodice parts company with itself, followed by the tiny seed pearls hitting the marble floor. Eleanor freezes mid-sentence, her gloved hand instinctively moving to cover the gap that has appeared at her side, where the dress has simply... given up. The beaded bodice, no longer held in tension, begins to gape more noticeably. [[The damage spreads.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 2]]

What begins as a single failed seam becomes something far worse. The emerald silk, no longer able to contain the pressure it was never designed to bear, begins to surrender in multiple places at once. You watch as, in the following moments, the dress essentially unravels around Eleanor's figure. The side seam splits further, revealing the white cotton of her chemise beneath. Then the back seam follows suit with a more pronounced *rip* that echoes across the immediate conversation space. And still the dress continues its betrayal, the waist seam groaning audibly under the strain of Eleanor's belly until finally, inevitably, it too gives way with a sound like tearing paper. [[Eleanor stands exposed before the ballroom's elite.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 3]]

The wreckage of emerald silk hangs in tatters around Eleanor's figure, revealing what the gown had been so desperately trying to contain. Her white cotton chemise, damp with perspiration and never intended for public viewing, clings to her form. [if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'; append] Without the merciless compression of the dress, it shows the swell of her belly as it rests against the thin fabric. The garment, designed for modesty, reveals the soft curves that have slowly developed beneath her careful professional attire. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Freed from the dress's constraints, the thin fabric strains across her bulging middle, the cotton pulled taut over the rounded mound of her belly. It clings to every curve, outlining the full extent of her expansion in devastating detail. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] It was never designed to contain so much, and it now stretches to near-transparency across her girth. Her belly hangs prominently beneath the thin cotton, while the garment gaps at various points, unable to properly cover all of her fat. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Thoroughly defeated by her massive proportions, it too has burst, now opening wide in places it really shouldn't. Her belly dominates the scene, its impressive bulk freed from all constraint, while the cotton fabric provides only the barest pretense of modesty. [continue] Her honey-blonde hair has come completely undone, falling in disheveled waves around her flushed face. Each breath she manages to draw comes as a visible relief, her chest rising and falling without the punishing restriction of [[silk and whalebone.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 4]]

For a moment, Eleanor stands frozen. Then, with a strangled sob that escapes before she can contain it, Eleanor gathers the remnants of emerald silk around herself and flees. Her flight through the ballroom is a blur of stumbling motion, her chemise-clad figure weaving between shocked guests and abandoned champagne flutes. You follow as she pushes through the mansion's entrance hall, past startled footmen, and out into the cool evening air [[where carriages wait in neat rows.->Society Ball Humiliation Ending 5]]

MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship - 4 -- Mary's voice calls after her - *"Eleanor! Wait, please! I'm sorry..."* - but Eleanor doesn't pause. She stumbles toward the first available carriage slumming it shut with a decisive thud. Through the window, you catch a final glimpse of Eleanor collapsed against the leather seats, her face buried in her hands as the vehicle lurches into motion, carrying her away from the scene of her humiliation and back into her apartment. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'The evening is over.'}

[if WeightGained == 'NONE' || WeightGained == 'CHUBBY' || WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Eleanor drops the silk scraps by the door and immediately works at the chemise's remaining laces. The cotton has absorbed enough perspiration to become nearly opaque in patches, and the unlaced sections reveal how her corset left deep red welts across her ribs and waist. She peels away the undergarment with evident relief, her skin showing the clear imprints of every seam and stay that had been fighting her expanding form throughout the evening. Her belly protrudes noticeably, distended from the substantial meal and tight from her hurried breathing during the escape. Standing naked in her sitting room, she attempts to massage the circulation back into her marked flesh before reaching for her house robe, which hangs loose around her frame after the punishing constraints of formal wear. The settee receives her weight with a soft creak as she finally allows herself to release the tension she's been holding - *her hands go back to covering her face as a few strangled sobs escape her throat.* She curls on her side, one arm wrapped protectively around her middle, the other still pressed to her burning face as exhaustion and humiliation finally claim her. [if WeightGained == 'FAT' || WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Eleanor abandons the dress remnants where they fall and begins the laborious process of extracting herself from the chemise. The cotton has become virtually transparent from perspiration and stretching, requiring careful maneuvering to avoid further tears. Her skin bears the deep impressions of every seam, the fabric having cut into her flesh wherever it made contact. Her substantial belly, freed from the chemise's inadequate constraints, surges forward and hangs heavily. The evening's consumption has left it drum-tight and visibly distended, forcing her to breathe in shallow pants. She makes no attempt to dress again, the house robe requiring too much effort to properly secure around her. The settee groans under her weight as she lowers herself down, her body spreading across most of its surface. Her feet remain swollen from supporting her bulk in formal shoes all evening, and she works them out of the remaining slippers with obvious discomfort. It’s then that she finally allows herself to release the tension she's been holding - *her hands go back to covering her face as a few strangled sobs escape her throat.* She manages only to crawl to the settee before collapsing face-first into the cushions, her massive rear rising prominently as her body spreads across the furniture. The painful fullness of her belly, combined with the crushing weight of her humiliation, renders her utterly immobile as unconsciousness takes hold. [continue]

Mary's mind races as she watches another thread give way with a tiny pop that only she, and you, seems to notice. Eleanor's dress has only a couple of moments left - perhaps seconds. *"Oh!"* she exclaims suddenly, her voice pitched with false brightness. *"Eleanor, darling, I've just remembered - didn't you mention wanting to see the mansion's... the... famous rose garden? Under moonlight?"* Eleanor pauses mid-sentence, looking puzzled. *"Rose garden? Mary, I never said-"* *"O-of course you did! Just this afternoon!"* Mary's laugh comes out slightly strained as she sets down her champagne with trembling fingers. *"You were quite insistent about it, actually. Something about... moonlight and... yes, roses. For your research!"* Mrs. Whitmore raises an eyebrow. *"Research involving roses, Miss Lovelace?"* *"I... I don't recall..."* Eleanor begins, clearly confused, but Mary is already reaching for her arm. [[*"Come along, we simply must go now!"*->Society Ball Rescue Ending 2]]

*"Mary, really, I think you're mistaken-"* Eleanor protests as Mary tugs at her elbow, trying to guide her away from the group. *"We were discussing my research, and I should finish explaining about the cultural practices-"* *"The roses, darling! The moonlight!"* Mary's voice grows more desperate. She can see another seam starting to pull apart along Eleanor's back, the emerald silk beginning to gap where it should lie flat. *"It's absolutely essential for your... your botanical research!"* *"I study archaeology, not botany,"* Eleanor says firmly, planting her feet. *"Mary, what's gotten into you? You're acting rather-"* But before she can finish, someone steps forward with sudden, unexpected movement. His long, pale hand reaches toward Eleanor's arm with an intensity that makes Mary's skin crawl. His fingers brush Eleanor's sleeve, and without thinking, [[Mary stamps down hard on the pianist's foot.->Society Ball Rescue Ending 3]]

The heel of Mary's silk slipper connects squarely with the pianist's polished shoe. He jerks back with a sharp intake of breath, his pale eyes flashing with something between surprise and fury beneath the sharp electric light. *"Oh, how terribly clumsy of me!"* Mary exclaims with feigned innocence, her grip tightening on Eleanor's arm. *"So sorry! These slippers are dreadfully unwieldy."* Mrs. Whitmore begins to say something, but Mary is already pulling Eleanor away with surprising strength. *"Come along, Eleanor! The roses wait for no one, don't they!"* *"Mary, what on earth-"* Eleanor stumbles as she's half-dragged through the ballroom, trying to maintain her dignity while Mary practically sprints toward the mansion's grand staircase. * *"Will be there when we return!"* Mary calls over her shoulder, breathing hard as they reach the foot of the marble steps. [[You follow the two up the staircase, Eleanor protesting with every step.->Society Ball Rescue Ending 4]]

*"Mary, stop this instant!"* Eleanor demands breathlessly as they ascend the marble steps, her free hand gripping the banister for support. *"I don't understand what's come over you-* *"Nearly there, darling!"* Mary pants, not slowing her pace as they reach the first landing. The sounds of the ballroom fade below them, replaced by the echo of their footsteps on polished stone. *"Just a little further!"* You notice the strain of movement taking its toll on Eleanor's already compromised gown. Each step up causes her to breathe more deeply, her expanding chest pushing against the weakened seams. But Mary doesn't slow, driven by the desperate knowledge that they need privacy, and they need it now. The second floor landing opens before them, and through tall French doors, you can see the shadowed outline of a balcony overlooking the mansion's grounds. [[*"Here! Perfect!"* Mary exclaims, pushing through the doors.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 1]]

The cool evening air hits them both as Mary pushes through the French doors onto the shadowed balcony. *"Mary, what in heaven's name-"* Eleanor begins, turning to face her with an expression of bewildered exasperation. But the sudden movement, combined with her rapid breathing from the flight upstairs, proves to be the final straw for the already compromised emerald silk. The gown doesn't simply tear - it practically disintegrates around Eleanor's figure, splitting along every side seam with sharp, decisive rips that echo across the quiet balcony. Eleanor stands in the wreckage of green silk and scattered beads, her white cotton chemise now the only thing preserving her modesty. The thin fabric, damp with perspiration and never intended for such exposure, clings to every curve of her figure in the moonlight. Her breathing comes in visible gasps of relief, her chest rising and falling freely for the first time all evening, while her belly - no longer constrained by silk and whalebone - rests [[soft and prominent against the cotton.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 3]]

For a long moment, Eleanor stands motionless among the ruins of emerald silk, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps that have nothing to do with the climb. Her honey-blonde hair has come completely undone, falling in loose waves around her flushed face. *"Oh..."* she whispers, her voice barely audible. *"Oh, Mary... I'm so sorry. I've ruined it. Ruined... everything, really."* She looks down at the scattered fabric and beads at her feet, then back up at Mary with an expression of profound mortification. *"I... knew I shouldn't have come. I'm terrible at these sorts of events. Always have been. I should have insisted on a proper fitting, should have been honest about..."* Her words trail off as she notices the girl's stricken expression in the moonlight. [[Mary's face crumples.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 4]]

*"No!"* Mary exclaims, her voice cracking as she rushes forward. *"Eleanor, no! This isn't your fault - it's mine! All of it!"* She drops to her knees among the scattered silk, her burgundy gown pooling around her as she begins frantically gathering the torn pieces. *"I-I chose this wretched dress! I insisted on last season's measurements when you tried to tell me... I dismissed your concerns because I thought I knew better!"* Her hands shake as she clutches the ruined fabric. *"I wanted you to look... I wanted to look at..."* Her voice breaks entirely. *"Oh God, Eleanor, I'm such a selfish, thoughtless fool! I nearly let you be humiliated in front of everyone because I was too busy thinking about how beautiful you looked in emerald silk!"* Mary's carefully arranged coiffure begins to come undone as she shakes her head in despair, dark curls falling loose around her tear-streaked face. [[*"Mary..."* Eleanor says softly.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 5]]

Eleanor steps carefully through the scattered silk, her chemise pale in the moonlight, and kneels beside Mary on the cool stone. *"Mary, look at me."* When Mary's tear-filled eyes finally meet hers, Eleanor's voice is gentle but firm. *"Look... whatever your reasons for choosing this dress, you saw what was happening and you got me away before... before everyone could see. Right?"* *"But I caused it!"* Mary protests, her voice thick with emotion. *"I chose that gown because I wanted to see you in it, wanted to watch the way the silk would... the way it would show..."* She trails off, her cheeks flushing even in the dim light. [[*"Show what?"*->Society Ball Intimate Moment 6.5]] Eleanor asks quietly.

Mary's hands twist in her lap, crushing the emerald fabric between her fingers. *"How you've changed. How soft you've become. How beautiful."* The words tumble out in a rushed whisper. *"I've been watching you for months, Eleanor. Every tea, every conversation... I can't stop thinking about you."* [[Eleanor's breath catches.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 6]]

Eleanor is quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching Mary's face in the moonlight. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. *"I wondered... during our teas, I kept noticing how you looked at me. How your attention would linger... I found myself looking forward to it. To you watching me."* Her cheeks flush pink. *"I thought I was imagining it, that it was just my own... feelings... making me see things that weren't there."* Mary's breath hitches. *"Your own feelings?"* *"Mary."* Eleanor reaches out, her gloved fingers brushing against Mary's tear-dampened cheek. *"The way you laugh, how animated you become when you're excited about something... how your eyes light up when you smile at me."* She pauses, her thumb tracing across Mary's cheekbone. *"I've been thinking about you too."* [[Mary leans into Eleanor's touch.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 7]]

Mary closes her eyes and leans into Eleanor's gloved touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. *"Eleanor..."* The distance between them seems to disappear without conscious decision. Eleanor's other hand finds Mary's waist, drawing her closer among the scattered silk, while Mary's fingers reach up to trace the line of Eleanor's soft jaw, feeling the warmth radiating from her flushed skin. *"Is this... may I...?"* Eleanor whispers, her face now inches from Mary's. Mary's answer comes not in words but in the way she tilts her chin upward, her lips parting slightly in invitation. When their mouths meet, it's tentative at first - soft, questioning, gentle. But as Mary's hands slide into Eleanor's loose hair and Eleanor pulls her closer with surprising strength, the kiss deepens with months of suppressed longing, Eleanor's form settling more heavily onto the scattered silk beneath them. [[Eleanor's hands begin to explore.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 8]]

Mary's burgundy gown pools around her waist as Eleanor's hands find their way beneath the silk, discovering the smooth expanse of Mary's back, the delicate ridges of her ribs, the gentle slope of her shoulders. Mary's skin is warm and impossibly soft beneath Eleanor's touch, her slender frame responding to every caress with barely contained shivers. In return, Mary's exploration grows bolder, her palms tracing the angry red impressions left by Eleanor's corset across her ribs before discovering the generous swell of her breasts. Freed from their punishing constraints, they hang heavily, warm and soft beneath Mary's tentative touch. Her hands trail lower, onto the substantial curve of Eleanor's belly as it spreads naturally in her reclined position, the flesh taut, but yielding. Eleanor responds with a soft gasp that catches in her throat, her breathing shallow as she shifts her considerable weight on the stone, pulling Mary closer against her, their bare skin meeting in the cool moonlight. The scattered emerald silk beneath them becomes a makeshift bed as [[they sink lower onto the balcony.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 10]]

*"Mary..."* Eleanor whispers, her voice thick with want. *"I know,"* Mary breathes against Eleanor's throat. *"I've wanted this for so long..."* And then, with sudden and jarring intensity, [[the night explodes with sound->Society Ball Intimate Moment 11]].

A thunderous burst of applause erupts from the ballroom below, followed by the opening chords of what must be an encore performance. Both women freeze, reality crashing back. *"Oh!"* Mary gasps, suddenly aware of where they are. *"Eleanor, we... anyone could see..."* [[With some struggle, Eleanor sits up among the scattered silk.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 12]]

*"...my house,"* Mary says suddenly, her eyes bright with determination. *"Papa's in Edinburgh, the staff retire early. We could..."* Eleanor's breath catches. *"Mary, are you certain?"* *"Please."* Mary reaches for her burgundy gown. *"I can fashion something from my shawl. Just enough to get you to the carriage without scandal, I... I'm sure of it."* With practiced fingers, Mary drapes and pins the silk over Eleanor's chemise, creating a makeshift but modest covering. [[Together, they gather the ruined emerald silk and steal away into the night.->Society Ball Intimate Moment 13]]

MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship + 5 -- Mary navigates the servants' corridors with confidence, leading Eleanor through narrow staircases and side passages until they emerge near the carriages. The makeshift gown holds together, drawing no attention from the waiting drivers. You watch as Mary points to a sleek black vehicle - hers. The carriage lurches into motion, carrying them away from the mansion's lights toward the promise of privacy and continuation. You watch their intertwined fingers in the lamplight, the intimate warmth of their connection surrounding them as they disappear into the night. The scene begins to waver as you feel yourself fading away from the carriage. Your awareness dissolves completely, plunging you back into waiting, comfortable silence before the dawn of the {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'next day'}. {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'}

The railway platform bustles with Friday afternoon travelers, steam hissing from the waiting locomotive. Richard stands beside a wooden bench, practically bouncing on his heels, clutching a wicker hamper that seems remarkably well-provisioned for what he'd termed a "simple day trip." "*Ellie! There you are!*" His face lights up as Eleanor approaches, her leather satchel slung carefully across her shoulder. "*Perfect timing - I've, er, I've secured us a compartment. Second class, naturally, but quite... quite comfortable, I think.*" He gestures enthusiastically toward the train. "*The ruins are barely an hour's journey. You'll find them fascinating, I'm certain.*" Eleanor smiles. You can't help but notice that Richard's spectacles have fogged slightly from his nervous excitement - it could also be the heat radiating off the steam engines. The hamper at his feet appears to contain enough provisions for a small expedition rather than an afternoon excursion. [[The whistle sounds, calling all aboard.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 2]]

The compartment rocks gently as the countryside rolls past the window. Richard has spread archaeological sketches across the small table between them, his nervousness from the platform replaced by scholarly enthusiasm as he points to various structural details. "*You see, the site's has technically been documented.., but just a few cursory notes from the county survey.*" He pushes his spectacles up, leaning forward. "*The stonework suggests first century construction. Possibly military! The local farmers have been finding coin hoards for decades, isn't that fun?*" Eleanor examines his hand-drawn maps while sampling from the rather generous assortment of sandwiches, preserved fruits, and small cakes he's unpacked from the hamper. The countryside blurs past - green fields giving way to rougher, more ancient-looking terrain. [[The train begins to slow as they approach their stop.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 3]]

You watch the pair make their way across the windswept moorland, Richard's enthusiasm infectious as he leads Eleanor between crumbling stone foundations and weathered column bases. The site is indeed impressive - [[clearly more extensive than his modest sketches had suggested.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 3.5]]

WeekendExpeditionResetCounter: 0 -- Morning goes by. Richard guides Eleanor through what remains of the complex, pointing out architectural details and hypothesizing about the structure's original purpose. Eleanor dutifully follows, though you do notice her attention occasionally drifting to the substantial picnic he's spread beneath a sheltered archway. As the day progresses, they become increasingly animated, gesturing toward partially excavated areas and speculating about what might lie beneath. Their excitement peaks when Eleanor points to an unusual depression in the ground near the main complex - a subtle indentation that suggests underlying chambers. Together, they clear away loose stones and overgrown vegetation, revealing the entrance to what appears to be a lower level of the site, [[carved directly into the bedrock.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 4]]

The stone steps descend deeper than either had anticipated. The air grows cooler as they venture further underground, eventually revealing a substantial chamber system. You observe them pause at the main room - an ancient space of impressive construction, its walls decorated with intricate stonework and the remains of what might once have been an heating system. Eleanor kneels to examine a series of detailed carvings while Richard, ever the explorer, ventures toward a narrow passage leading deeper into the structure. "Remarkable preservation," Eleanor murmurs, running her fingers along the carved stone. "The craftsmanship is extraordinary." "*Quite so... just going to check how far this extends.*" he calls back, [[his lamp disappearing around a corner.->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 4.5]]

ExpeditionEnding: 'romantic/freed' WeekendExpeditionResetCounter: WeekendExpeditionResetCounter + 1 SpearsState: 'standing' AqueductState: 'intact' FrescoesState: 'pristine' OilLampsState: 'dim' MassageStonePlatformState: 'unknown_use' BarrierCleared: false BarrierAetherHelpful: false WeekendExpeditionTurns: 0 LustSpiritHelpfulActions: 0 LustSpiritOpposingActions: 0 LustSpiritCommitted: false AnimusBlocked: false -- The ground chooses that moment to betray them. A deep rumble echoes through the chamber as centuries of weathering and their own movements finally destabilize the entrance passage. Stone crashes down in a thunderous cascade, blocking their way back to the surface and, more immediately pressing, separating Eleanor from Richard with a substantial, impenetrable stone barrier. Their voices call out to each other through the rubble - worried, but not yet panicked. Yet as the dust settles, you sense... something. Someone else reaching the end of the staircase, and entering the chamber. [[Despite the rocks blocking the way.->Weekend Expedition Diorama]] [note] ExpeditionEnding: 'romantic/freed' 'romantic/freed', 'intercourse&pregnancy', 'intercourse', 'delayed' WeekendExpeditionResetCounter: WeekendExpeditionResetCounter + 1 SpearsState: 'standing' 'standing', 'embedded' AqueductState: 'intact' 'intact', 'past_seen', 'redirected' FrescoesState: 'pristine' 'pristine', 'past_seen', 'corrupted' OilLampsState: 'dim' 'dim', 'emboldened' MassageStonePlatformState: 'unknown_use' 'past_seen' [continue]

WeekendExpeditionTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): WeekendExpeditionTurns + 1 -- [if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6] You hover within the ancient underground chamber. A massive [[collapsed stone barrier]] dominates the center of the chamber, effectively dividing the space in two. To the left, where [[Richard->Richard Expedition]] calls out intermittently, ancient [[spears]] lean against the wall near a chamber's [[entrance->hypocaust entrance]]. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if OilLampsState == 'emboldened'; append] Several [[oil lamps]] flicker in the hazy air, their flames a gentle pink hue. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if OilLampsState == 'dim'; append] Several [[oil lamps]] flicker weakly in the dusty air, their flames struggling against the disturbed atmosphere. [continue] On the right side, [[Eleanor->Eleanor Expedition]] stands near walls decorated with elaborate [[frescoes]]. A raised [[stone platform]] dominates that section, while [[broken aqueduct pipes]] protrude from the ceiling above. [continue] *** [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition TimesReset Lust Spirit Acknowledgement'} [unless WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if LustSpiritHelpfulActions > LustSpiritOpposingActions] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Lust Spirit Helped'} [unless WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if LustSpiritOpposingActions > LustSpiritHelpfulActions] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Lust Spirit Opposed'} [unless WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if LustSpiritHelpfulActions == LustSpiritOpposingActions; unless LustSpiritCommitted] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Lust Spirit Default'} [unless WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; if WeekendExpeditionTurns <= 6; if LustSpiritHelpfulActions == LustSpiritOpposingActions; if LustSpiritCommitted] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Lust Spirit Opposed/Frustrated'} [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns > 6] You feel a strange ripple in the air around you, as if time itself is hesitating. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You realize you're being given a choice: either [[reach the outcome of this underground encounter->Weekend Expedition Ending Router]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or [[start this gathering over from the very beginning->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 4.5]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [note] Clearing the barrier should link to the router right away, and so the freed ending. [continue]

A wall of limestone and mortar fragments towers before you, reaching from the chamber floor to the low vaulted ceiling. The stones vary wildly in size - some massive enough to pin a man, others no larger than a pebble. Fresh mortar dust drifts in the stagnant air, coating everything with a fine, chalky film. The collapse has created an almost perfect division of the space. Eleanor's muffled voice drifts through narrow gaps near the top, answered by Richard's equally distant replies from the opposite side. The barrier's surface is rough and visibly unstable - loose stones shift and settle with the slightest vibration. {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless SpearsState == 'embedded'; unless AqueductState == 'redirected'; unless BarrierAetherHelpful; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Barrier Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue] [if SpearsState == 'embedded'; if AqueductState == 'redirected'; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a powerful, resonating hum...->Barrier Collapse Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

Richard's field jacket - a sturdy canvas replacement for his usual worn tweed - hangs open over a practical linen shirt - both garments are now thoroughly marked with stone dust and dirt. His squared spectacles have slipped down his nose once again, their lenses fogged with condensation from the chamber's humid air. His tall, lean frame seems somehow more angular in the confined space. The practical expedition boots he'd selected for the day's expedition are caked with mud and debris from the collapse. Despite their predicament, his scholarly enthusiasm remains evident - despite it all, there's an alertness to his stance that suggests his mind is still cataloguing every detail of his surroundings. {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless AnimusBlocked; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked 1]] [continue] [if AnimusBlocked; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[Try as you might...->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked Richard Animus Menu]] [continue]

An arched opening leads into a lower chamber, its entrance framed by carefully fitted stones that differ markedly from the rougher construction elsewhere. The air flowing from within carries an unusual warmth, as if some ancient heat source still lingers in the depths below. The stonework around the opening shows signs of deliberate engineering - channels carved into the walls, spaces between stones that seem purposeful rather than accidental. Soot stains the upper portions of the arch, while the space beyond it disappears into shadow. You can make out the suggestion of pillars or supports within. {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if OilLampsState == 'dim'] Clay oil lamps sit in wall niches throughout the chamber, their small flames guttering weakly in the disturbed air. The wicks burn low, casting uneven shadows that dance nervously across the stone walls. Most of the few drops of oil Richard had placed before has been consumed, leaving only dark residue around the rims where the fuel pooled. The collapse has stirred up so much dust that the flames seem to struggle for oxygen, their light barely reaching beyond their immediate alcoves. [continue] [if OilLampsState == 'emboldened'] The oil lamps burn with renewed vigor, their flames steady and surprisingly bright in the underground chamber. Each wick produces a warm, almost rosy light that softens the harsh edges of the ancient stonework - they seem to have found some hidden reserve of fuel, burning higher and cleaner than before. The gentle illumination bathes the chamber in an intimate glow, transforming the rough military architecture into something almost welcoming. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if OilLampsState == 'dim'; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a gentle, warming vibration...->Oil Lamps Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

Eleanor's practical brown wool coat hangs open, its sturdy fabric marked with dust from their exploration. The oil lamp light catches the cream-colored blouse beneath, now slightly dampened with perspiration from the underground humidity. Her expedition skirts, heavier and darker than her usual office wear, bear traces of stone dust and dirt from the day's adventure, but mostly dust from the collapse. Her honey-blonde hair has escaped its morning arrangement, wisps clinging to her flushed cheeks in the chamber's close air. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'] You notice how the practical cut of her outdoor clothing accommodates her figure comfortably, the wool coat's generous proportions hanging loose around her frame. [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] You watch as the wool coat pulls slightly across her middle when she breathes, while the cream blouse fits snugly around her curves, the fabric following the gentle roundness that has softened her silhouette. [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] Her attire strains noticeably - the blouse drawing tight across her expanded chest, its buttons working harder than intended. Her skirts cling more closely to her widened hips, the heavy fabric outlining her fuller form. [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] The brown wool coat she's wearing gapes open considerably, unable to close over her - the blouse stretches visibly across her ample form, the fabric pulled taut between increasingly stressed button gaps. [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] Her outdoor clothing proves wholly inadequate - the coat hangs uselessly open while her blouse strains dangerously against her massive chest and protruding belly, threatening to surrender entirely to her bulk. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless AnimusBlocked; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[There are strings you can pull here...->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked 1]] [continue] [if AnimusBlocked; inventory for AnimusAbility] [[Try as you might...->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked Eleanor Animus Menu]] [continue]

[if FrescoesState == 'pristine'] Painted figures writhe across the wall in vivid reds and ochres, their naked forms entwined in unmistakably carnal embraces. A soldier presses a woman against a pillar, her back arched, his hands tangled in her hair. Nearby, another couple lies sprawled on a couch, limbs intertwined, mouths meeting in hungry kisses. The pigments have survived remarkably well - you can see the flush on their painted skin, the curve of breast and thigh, the lust in their expressions. [continue] [if FrescoesState == 'past_seen'] Painted figures writhe across the wall in vivid reds and ochres, their naked forms entwined in unmistakably carnal embraces. A soldier presses a woman against a pillar, her back arched, his hands tangled in her hair. Nearby, another couple lies sprawled on a couch, limbs intertwined, mouths meeting in hungry kisses. The pigments have survived remarkably well - you can see the flush on their painted skin, the curve of breast and thigh, the lust in their expressions. *For a second you catch a glimpse of a pink, spectral form inside of the painting - a naked hourglass figure hovering behind the couple and right in front of you.* [if FrescoesState == 'corrupted'] Cracks spider across the wall where ancient heat once scorched the surface beyond repair. The lovers' faces are split by fracture lines, their embraces broken by gaps in the plaster. What once depicted ecstasy now suggests agony - painted mouths twisted; reaching hands severed by missing chunks of wall. The damaged sections emit a faint, acrid smell, as if something still burns within the stone. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless FrescoesState == 'corrupted'; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Frescoes Cutscene 1]] [continue]

[if MassageStonePlatformState == 'unknown_use'] A raised stone slab dominates this section of the chamber, its surface worn smooth. It stands roughly waist-high, constructed from the same limestone as the walls but fitted with exceptional precision. Shallow channels carved around its edges suggest it was designed to collect liquid - water, perhaps? Dark stains mark various spots across its surface, their patterns suggesting regular, deliberate use rather than random spillage. [continue] [if MassageStonePlatformState == 'past_seen'] The raised stone platform takes on clearer purpose now that you've witnessed its use. The smooth surface, the careful channels for collecting oils, the precise height - all designed for tending to the human body. The warmth from the warm water flowing below would have made this an ideal place for such ministrations, the heated stone providing comfort during treatments. [continue] Eleanor stands nearby, occasionally glancing toward the platform with scholarly curiosity. {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless MassageStonePlatformState == 'past_seen'; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Stone Platform Cutscene 1]] [continue]

[if AqueductState == 'intact'] Sections of clay piping protrude from the ceiling at irregular intervals, their broken ends jagged where centuries of settling have sheared them off. They are seemingly thick-walled and well-made, bearing the unmistakable craftsmanship of Roman engineering - after all, water is still coming from them at a slow, but steady drip. Mineral deposits coat the pipe openings, creating a pale limestone buildup around each break. [if AqueductState == 'past_seen'] Sections of clay piping protrude from the ceiling at irregular intervals, their broken ends jagged where centuries of settling have sheared them off. They are seemingly thick-walled and well-made, bearing the unmistakable craftsmanship of Roman engineering - after all, water is still coming from them at a slow, but steady drip. Mineral deposits coat the pipe openings, creating a pale limestone buildup around each break. *These channels once fed heated water directly to the bathhouse below - clearly the source of the water is still there, just partially blocked.* [if AqueductState == 'redirected'] Warm water now gushes forcefully from the pipe openings, no longer the steady drip of before but a pressurized flow that sends spray cascading across the chamber. The ancient clay channels strain under the volume, their surfaces slick with moisture. The ceiling above shows centuries of water damage - deep stains, visible cracks, and areas where the stone has begun to bow under the accumulated weight and pressure. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless AqueductState == 'past_seen'; unless AqueductState == 'redirected'; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Aqueduct Cutscene 1]] [continue]

ExpeditionEnding (LustSpiritHelpfulActions > LustSpiritOpposingActions): 'intercourse' ExpeditionEnding (LustSpiritOpposingActions > LustSpiritHelpfulActions): 'delayed' ExpeditionEnding (LustSpiritHelpfulActions == LustSpiritOpposingActions): 'delayed' ExpeditionEnding (SpearsState == 'embedded' && AqueductState == 'redirected' && BarrierCleared == true): 'romantic/freed' WeekendExpeditionAttended: true -- [if ExpeditionEnding == 'romantic/freed'] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 1'} [if ExpeditionEnding == 'intercourse'] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 1'} [if ExpeditionEnding == 'delayed'] {embed passage: 'Weekend Expedition Collapse Ending 1'} [note] We've decided to have the pregnancy ending be accessible if the spirit has helped the spirit of lust, and somehow gives the ok to the spirit of lust to "have fun" during the final two cutscenes of the intercourse ending. This means that there will be a main intercourse cutscene sequence branch (Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 1), and that a certain point, very near the end, we will split the two based on what the player decides. Weekend Expedition :: Delayed Romance Ending 1 will have 2 cutscenes where, because the player neither helped nor opposed, the stone barrier will collapse, but with the roof too, and so on top of the two. This will lead the player to a forced reset text thingy (the same as the one in the dioramas, but with the only available option being to get back to the start). [continue] [note] You'll need to set BarrierCleared: true in whatever Aether interaction completes the 3-step sequence. [continue]

[if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You sense the other presence settling into the chamber. You feel it as it moves around, as if inspecting the place. It lingers a few extra moment on the frescoes. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You feel a flicker of confusion from the other presence. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndresetaware] *"...what?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You feel the presence falter, its attention momentarily torn from Eleanor and Richard. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 3; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndresetaware] *"Again? How... how did we...?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You sense mounting frustration as the presence realizes something is deeply wrong. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndresetaware] *"This happened before! I remember this! What trickery is this?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] The presence radiates angry bewilderment, its voice rising with indignation. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndresetaware] *"You! YOU'RE doing this... somehow! Making time bend back on itself! Stop this madness!"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] Hysteria creeps into its voice as realization dawns. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndresetaware] *"You're playing with me! What is your problem?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 7; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] Paranoid rambling begins to overtake its voice. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter == 7; dialogue delay:2.0 id:wkndresetaware] *"Is this real? Are THEY real? Or am I still buried under the... no. NO! Stop messing with me!"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter >= 8; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] You feel pure, incandescent rage as the presence realizes you've reset the scene once more. [if WeekendExpeditionResetCounter >= 8; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndresetaware] *"AGAIN?!"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndresetaware] Eleanor calls out through the rubble, her voice carrying worry, but not panic. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndresetaware] *"Richard? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndresetaware newline] *"Yes, yes I'm quite alright! Just a bit shaken. Are you injured, Ellie?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndresetaware] comes his muffled reply from the other side of the barrier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndresetaware newline] *"No, thankfully. Though... I fear we might have gotten trapped down here."*

[if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it flooding their skin with intensified phantom heat, making them believe their very blood burns with desire. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Yes, yes! You get me! So long... so long in the sand with nothing but emptiness... together we make them BURN!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] Eleanor's breathing quickens audibly. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"Richard? The air down here... it's almost suffocating. I need to... I must remove my jacket."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Of course, yes! Terribly warm, isn't it?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] Richard's voice carries a tremor of excitement. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"I'm... I'm loosening my collar as well. No shame in comfort, eh?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it weaving phantom scents with doubled intensity - not just cologne and lavender, but deeper, more primal aromas that speak directly to desire. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Clever spirit! You understand passion! They feel my touch now... my beautiful, aching touch!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Richard, I... I can smell you from here. How strange. Your cologne... it's quite pleasant."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] Eleanor's voice has grown noticeably softer, almost breathy. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Can you? How... interesting. I find myself thinking I can catch your scent as well. Lavender, isn't it? Lovely..."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it flooding their minds with explicit visions - raw, carnal images of bodies writhing in desperate need. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"MORE! Give them MORE!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] Eleanor's voice drops to a husky whisper. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"Richard... I've been thinking such... such improper thoughts about you lately."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Have you? God help me, so have I. About you, I mean. About... about what it might be like to..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd] His voice breaks with nervous desire. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it creating phantom pressure against their bodies - invisible weight pressing them against the stone, mimicking the sensation of another's form against theirs. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"They're breaking! Beautiful mortals breaking under my will! Soon... soon they'll be in each other's arms!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"I can feel you,"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlusthelpd] Eleanor moans softly. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"I can feel your hands on me even through this damned stone. Richard, please... we must find a way..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"Ellie! Yes, I... I feel it too. Your skin, your warmth... it's driving me to madness! There must be a way through!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] he mutters, giving the wall a single, frustrated punch. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlusthelpd] You feel it manipulating their spatial awareness with masterful precision, making the chamber's entrance the only reasonable way forward - all the while flooding them with urgent, desperate need. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"The back room! Yes! Take them there! Away from prying eyes where they can finally... finally give me what I've craved for so long!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] Both voices grow distant as they rush toward the rear chambers with reckless abandon. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlusthelpd] Eleanor calls out frantically: [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlusthelpd] *"The opening! Richard, there's an opening here! Come to me now!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlusthelpd newline] *"I'm coming! Nothing will keep us apart! Nothing!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlusthelpd] His voice echoes with pure, desperate need.

[if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it trying to flood their skin with phantom heat, but its influence wavers as you work against it. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"What... what are you doing? No, no, no! Not the cold... I can hear the rocks cracking up above..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustopposed newline] Eleanor calls out uncertainly. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustopposed] *"Richard? Is it just me, or has it grown... cooler down here? Perhaps there's a draft."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Yes, actually. Quite refreshing after the stuffiness above. Clears the mind, doesn't it?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustopposed] Richard's voice carries renewed scholarly focus. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it desperately weaving phantom scents, but your interference makes them strange and off-putting. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"No, no, NO! Why would you even fight me? They should be burning with need by now!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Richard, do you smell that? Something... odd. Musty. Like old tombs."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustopposed] Eleanor's voice carries a note of unease. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Rather unpleasant, isn't it? Perhaps we should focus on finding our way out. This place feels... unwholesome."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it attempting to force romantic imagery into their minds, but your opposition twists the visions into something uncomfortable and jarring. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"STOP. INTERFERING. They are mine! My mortals! My playthings! NOT. YOURS!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustopposed newline] Eleanor sounds troubled. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustopposed] *"I keep having the strangest thoughts... It's most disconcerting."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"How peculiar. I'm experiencing something similar. As if... it must be the darkness surrounding us."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it trying to create phantom touches, but your interference makes them feel cold and unnatural - like corpse fingers rather than loving caresses. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"No! I... centuries... centuries with nothing but sand! And you... you RUIN everything!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustopposed newline] Eleanor shudders audibly. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustopposed] *"Richard, I feel the most horrible sensation... like cold hands touching me. We need to find a way out of here."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Yes, quite right. This place has an oppressive atmosphere, doesn't it? Let's focus on the structural integrity of the walls - surely there's a way back to the surface."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustopposed] You feel it making a final, desperate attempt to drive them toward the rear chamber, but your opposition has left them both deeply unsettled. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"You've ruined EVERYTHING! Now what? I... I... I don't want to get back to the sand."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustopposed newline] Both voices remain near the central barrier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlustopposed] Eleanor speaks with determination: [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustopposed] *"Richard, there must be loose stones we can move. If we work together from both sides..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustopposed newline] *"Excellent thinking, Ellie! Far more sensible than wandering deeper into this wretched place. Let's see if we can shift some of this debris."*

[if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd2] You feel the other presence flooding their skin with phantom heat, making them believe the underground air has grown thick and oppressive. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wknd2 newline] Eleanor calls out from her side of the barrier, her voice carrying a slight tremor. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wknd2] *"Richard? Are you quite alright over there? It's gotten rather... warm down here."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wknd2 newline] *"Yes, er, yes indeed!"* comes his muffled reply. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wknd2] *"Quite stuffy, isn't it? Must be the... the confined air."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd3] You feel it weaving phantom scents into their awareness - Eleanor imagining Richard's cologne, Richard catching traces of her lavender soap - drawing them closer to the barrier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wknd3 newline] *"Richard, your voice sounds... different. Closer somehow."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wknd3] Eleanor's words carry an unfamiliar softness as she presses closer to the stone barrier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wknd3 newline] *"Does it? I... I find myself thinking of... well, of our conversations. At the museum. How pleasant they've been."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wknd3] His reply comes from much nearer to the barrier than before. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd4] You feel it pressing stolen moments from romantic novels directly into their minds - hands intertwining, lips meeting, bodies pressed close in shadowed alcoves. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wknd4 newline] Eleanor's breathing has become audibly heavier. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wknd4] *"Richard, I... I've been meaning to tell you how much I value your... your companionship."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wknd4 newline] *"Ellie..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.1 id:wknd4] His voice drops to barely above a whisper. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wknd4] *"I find myself thinking of you quite often. More often than is perhaps... proper."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd5] You feel it flooding them with phantom sensations - Eleanor imagining Richard's breath against her neck, Richard envisioning the weight of her body against his chest. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wknd5 newline] *"I can hear you breathing,"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wknd5] Eleanor murmurs, her voice thick with want. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wknd5] *"Are you... are you as close to the wall as I am?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wknd5 newline] *"Yes,"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.1 id:wknd5] Richard's voice comes from directly against the stone. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wknd5] *"God help me, yes. Ellie, if we could just... if there was a way..."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wknd6] You feel it manipulating their spatial awareness, making the adjacent chamber's entrance seem irresistibly inviting, like a beacon calling them toward inevitable union. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wknd6 newline] The sound of movement comes from both sides as they abandon the barrier entirely. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wknd6] Eleanor's voice grows distant as she moves toward the back of her chamber. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wknd6] *"Richard! I think... I think there's another way through back here!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wknd6 newline] *"Yes!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wknd6] His excited reply echoes as he too moves toward the rear of his space. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wknd6] *"There's an opening... we could..."*

[if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it attempting phantom sensations erratically - heat flickering on and off, as if it can't decide what approach to take. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"What... what do you WANT from me? First you help, then you hinder... make up your mind!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] Eleanor's voice wavers with confusion. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustfrustrated] *"Richard? I keep feeling warm, then cold... this place is quite unsettling."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Most peculiar atmospheric conditions. My collar feels both too tight and too loose. Perhaps we should focus on finding our bearings."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it weaving scents chaotically - pleasant lavender shifting to musty tomb air and back again in rapid succession. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Stop playing with me! I can't... I don't understand what game you're playing! Help me or fight me, but don't... don't leave me guessing!"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Do you smell that, Richard? Like flowers one moment, then... something rather unpleasant the next."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustfrustrated] Eleanor sounds concerned. [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it pressing images frantically - romantic embraces dissolving into uncomfortable visions, then back to passion, creating a jarring mental carousel. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Please! Just... just tell me what you want! ...why won't you let me have them?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] Eleanor sounds genuinely distressed. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.3 id:wkndlustfrustrated] *"...they keep changing. Pleasant one moment, disturbing the next. Richard, I think something's wrong with this place. Either that, or I fear I might be having a stroke."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Oh dear! No, I can assure you that... I'm going through the same... something's... unstable. Chaotic. What... what am I going on about?"* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it creating phantom touches that shift unpredictably - gentle caresses becoming cold grasps, then warm embraces, then nothing at all. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Years of emptiness, then hope, then... this confusion! Just let me have my moment of passion! Or end it! But not this..."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Richard, I keep feeling... touched."* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustfrustrated] Eleanor's voice trembles with confusion. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.6 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Something similar here... and my head is starting to hurt."* [continue] [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:0.1 id:wkndlustfrustrated] You feel it making desperate, contradictory attempts to influence their movement - pulling them toward the rear chamber, then pushing them away, then pulling again. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.9 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"After all these years... I just wanted them to... to... oh, what's the point?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:2.0 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] Both remain near the barrier, too confused by the mixed signals to commit to any action. [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.4 id:wkndlustfrustrated] Eleanor speaks hesitantly: [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.2 id:wkndlustfrustrated] *"...Richard? Perhaps we should simply... wait here until our heads clear?"* [if WeekendExpeditionTurns == 6; dialogue delay:1.7 id:wkndlustfrustrated newline] *"Y-yes, a sensible suggestion. Maybe an... earthquake? I must admit, I've never been in one before. Is that what's going on here?"*

[if SpearsState == 'standing'] Four ancient spears lean against the rough stone wall, their iron points dulled by centuries but still visibly sharp. The wooden shafts, darkened with age, show deep grain patterns where moisture has worked into the wood over time. Each stands roughly seven feet in length - weapons meant for soldiers who knew their business. The spears rest at a precarious angle, held in place only by their own weight and the irregular surface of the wall. [continue] [if SpearsState == 'embedded'] The ancient weapons have been driven deep into the stone barrier, their iron points wedged firmly between limestone blocks. The wooden shafts protrude at various angles, creating a chaotic network of levers throughout the rubble pile. Where they struck, fresh cracks spider outward through the mortar, and several smaller stones have already worked loose. [continue] {link to: 'Weekend Expedition Diorama', label: 'Back'} [if SpearsState == 'standing'; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a sharp, resonant hum...->Spears Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

You observe Eleanor push herself up from where the falling stones had knocked her down, small pebbles cascading from her skirt as she rises. Her spectacles hang askew, one lens spider-webbed with cracks that catch the afternoon light filtering through the opening above. She removes them, squinting at the damaged frame before tucking them into her jacket pocket. A cough escapes her as she brushes limestone dust from her sleeves, the fine powder creating small clouds around her movements. Her hair has come partially loose from its pins, honey-blonde strands framing her dirt-smudged face. The chamber feels different now - no longer oppressive, but filled with the scent of fresh air and the distant sound of wind through grass. Eleanor turns slowly, scanning the debris-strewn space with growing concern. "*Richard?*" Her voice carries a tremor of worry as it echoes off the ancient walls. [["*Richard, are you there?*"->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 2]]

Richard's lamp appears first at the arched entrance, followed immediately by his tall frame as he steps into the smaller chamber. Eleanor emerges mere moments behind him, her own light casting dancing shadows across the smooth stone walls. "*Richard! Thank God, you're-*" Eleanor begins, relief flooding her voice as they turn toward each other in the warm, enclosed space. [[The words are swallowed by a thunderous crash from behind them.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 1.5]]

The chamber fills with an ominous groaning sound. Stone grinding against stone echoes from above as the ceiling begins to shift and crack. The ancient supports, weakened by centuries and the day's disturbances, finally surrender to time. Eleanor's voice cuts through the growing rumble: "*Richard? Something's wrong. The stones above...*" "*I hear it too! Get away from the walls, Ellie!*" But there's nowhere to run in the divided chamber. The barrier that separates them becomes the least of their concerns as [[chunks of limestone begin raining down from overhead.->Weekend Expedition Collapse Ending 2]]

AnimusBlocked: true -- You reach out toward Eleanor and Richard's minds, your essence stretching thin as you seek purchase in their thoughts. But the moment you touch the edges of their consciousness, something slams into you with the force of a physical blow. [["*MINE!*"->Weekend Expedition Animus Interference 2]]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Richard's mind. His thoughts are a jumbled maze of architectural observations, growing concern for Eleanor, and a strange, unfamiliar warmth that seems to pulse from somewhere beyond his consciousness. The presence has wrapped itself around his mind - a possessive, burning presence that turns your approach aside with casual force. ➼<del>**ENCOURAGEMENT**</del> *She's quite resourceful, isn't she? Perhaps you should tell her how much you admire her determination.* ➼<del>**WORRY**<del> *This place feels wrong somehow. You should focus on finding a way out together.* ➼<del>**ATTRACTION**</del> *Eleanor's voice carries such determination even in these circumstances. You've always admired her for it...* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You concentrate, feeling your essence grow thin as it extends toward Eleanor's mind. Her thoughts circle between scholarly fascination with their surroundings, practical concern about their predicament, and an odd, mounting warmth that seems to emanate from outside her usual patterns of thinking. The presence has wrapped itself around his mind - a possessive, burning presence that turns your approach aside with casual force. ➼<del>**FOCUS**</del> *These architectural details are remarkable! You should document everything you can see.* ➼<del>**CAUTION**</del> *Something about this place feels unsettling. Trust your instincts about finding an exit.* ➼<del>**ATTRACTION**</del> *Richard's voice sounds different in this enclosed space - deeper, more intimate...* {plainlink to: 'Abilities Menu', label: 'Back'}

AnimusBlocked: true -- A shape materializes before you. A spectral magenta light coalescing into the form of a woman. Her figure is unnaturally perfect, the curves of her thin waist, her voluminous chest, her shapely ass... naked flesh that glows with its own inner radiance. You'd almost mistake her for another mortal were it not for the fact that you can partially see behind her, and her eyes: wide and white, empty of pupils, staring with a worrying intensity. *"[[What... what ARE you?->Weekend Expedition Animus Blocked 2]]"* Her voice carries confusion and growing irritation.

She catches you try to embed yourself into their minds once more - another blow, sharper and more lasting than before. *"Stop it at once! This is MY domain. MY. Moment!"* She circles you, her form shifting and rippling like boiling air. *"These two... they're perfect. So ready, so willing. YES! Can't you see that? I've got it under control. And you..."* She hovers closer, swiftly retreating a moment after. "You smell wrong. Of... something else. Something... cold? You... you're RUINING this for me!"* The spirit's essence presses against yours with overwhelming force. You find yourself pushed back, weakened by the mental barrier she's erected around their thoughts. [[*"LEAVE!"*->Weekend Expedition Diorama]]

AqueductState: 'past_seen' -- As you focus on the broken pipes, the chamber shifts around you. Dawn light streams through higher openings, and the space feels larger, more complete. A stocky man in a simple tunic enters through an archway, carrying bronze tools and a leather satchel. He moves with the practiced ease of routine, approaching a series of bronze valves set into the wall where the pipes emerge. Water trickles from several openings, but the flow remains minimal. "*Eia nunc, vos turbam recte fluere facite,*" he mutters, selecting a bronze key from his collection. The first valve turns with a metallic grinding sound, and immediately more water begins coursing through the overhead pipes. The sound of marching feet echoes from the entrance tunnel - [[heavy boots on stone, growing closer...->Past Aqueduct Occasion 2]] [note] Right then, let's get you lot flowing properly, [continue]

MassageStonePlatformState: 'past_seen' -- As you focus on the raised stone surface, the chamber transforms around you. Warm, humid air replaces the current staleness, and the space fills with the sound of flowing water and distant conversations. The platform gleams with a thin coating of oil, its channels catching the lamplight as they guide rivulets toward small collection basins. A woman lies face-down across the smooth surface, her body spreading wide over the heated stone. Her heavy breasts flatten against the surface, spilling outward beneath her weight. Thick thighs press together, their soft curves glistening with oil. Her broad hips fill the platform's width, the deep cleft between her substantial ass clearly visible as oil pools in the hollow of her lower back. A muscular attendant straddles her thighs, his calloused hands hard at work. Oil streams from his hands into the stone channels as he works downward, his thumbs pressing deep grooves into the thick padding around her spine. The woman gasps with a giggle, clearly not expecting him to move where he has. Her dark hair spreads across the stone, damp with perspiration. {link to: 'stone platform', label: 'Back'}

AqueductState: 'redirected' LustSpiritOpposingActions: LustSpiritOpposingActions + 1 -- You focus your will into the main pipe above, sending vibrations through the bronze and stone. The water rushing within shudders slightly, and you hear a faint change in the flow's sound. One of the smaller side pipes suddenly stops its steady trickle. The water that was flowing through it now joins the main current, which continues upward along the ceiling stones. Marcus remains focused on his bronze device, completely unaware of the change. He finishes his work and heads toward the exit. {link to: 'broken aqueduct pipes', label: 'Back'} [note] Right then, let's get you lot flowing properly, Morning, Marcus! Hard at work or hardly working, ay? Aye, and you'd better not waste all of the water like last time, Gaius! Some of us actually need a proper wash after dealing with your lot's training mess. We'll save you the cold pools then! [continue]

BarrierCleared: true WeekendExpeditionTurns: 7 -- You focus your will into the embedded spears, sending powerful vibrations through their wooden shafts. The iron tips, wedged deep in the barrier's mortar, begin to shift and twist within their stone holdings, acting as levers - your force transmitted through them into the barrier's structure. Stone grinds against stone as the weapons pry against their anchoring points. Mortar dust cascades down as the pressure builds, seeking the path of least resistance. Simultaneously, you hear the altered water flow from your previous interference - the redirected current now having pressed against the ceiling stones for more than a millennium. [[The chamber shudders.->Barrier Collapse Aether Cutscene 2]]

BarrierAetherHelpful: true LustSpiritHelpfulActions: LustSpiritHelpfulActions + 1 -- You focus your will into the massive stone barrier, pushing vibrations through the limestone and mortar. A few loose pebbles shift and tumble to the chamber floor, raising small puffs of dust - the larger stones barely respond to your influence. Their weight and the way they've settled against each other resists your efforts, and though you manage to dislodge some mortar fragments, the heavy blocks remain exactly where they fell. Eleanor's voice drifts through the gaps: "*Richard? I thought I heard something fall.*" "*Just some loose stones, I expect,*" comes his reply, a bit clearer than before. "*This whole place feels rather unstable.*" *You sense that brute force alone won't be sufficient.* {link to: 'collapsed stone barrier', label: 'Back'}

OilLampsState: 'emboldened' LustSpiritHelpfulActions: LustSpiritHelpfulActions + 2 -- You focus your will into the oil lamps scattered throughout the chamber, sending gentle vibrations through their clay bodies. The wicks respond immediately, drawing up more oil from their reservoirs. The weak, guttering flames suddenly strengthen and grow taller. Their light intensifies, casting warmer shadows across the stone walls. The flames begin to take on a subtle pink hue, as if the oil itself has changed in response to your influence. Or is this the presence's doing? Whatever the answer might be, the chamber fills with a softer, more intimate glow. {link to: 'oil lamps', label: 'Back'}

SpearsState: 'embedded' -- You focus onto the ancient spears, sending vibrations through their wooden shafts. The weapons tremble against the wall, their precarious balance finally giving way. The first spear topples forward with a wooden crack, its iron point striking the stone barrier with surprising force. The metal tip wedges itself between two limestone blocks, the shaft now angled across the rubble. The second spear follows, clattering against the first before its point also finds a gap in the stonework. Richard stumbles backward as the wooden shafts swing across his path, narrowly avoiding the falling weapons. The barrier itself remains otherwise unchanged, but the embedded spears now protrude from its surface like strange, angular growths, their iron tips buried deep in the mortar between stones. {link to: 'spears', label: 'Back'}

FrescoesState: 'corrupted' LustSpiritOpposingActions: LustSpiritOpposingActions + 1 -- You focus your will into the glowing brazier, vibrating the iron frame until the metal rings with heat. The coals within flare white-hot, far beyond their natural temperature. Flames leap higher, casting harsh shadows that dance violently across the chamber walls. The artist steps back in alarm as the intense heat washes over his fresh work. The wet plaster begins to crack and bubble, the carefully applied pigments blistering under the sudden temperature surge. Faces contort into grimaces, embracing figures appear to writhe in agony rather than passion. "*Quid... quid per Martem...? Non! Meum... meum opus! Eeeeheuuuuu!*" the artist gasps, shielding his face from the scorching air. The beautiful scene of desire transforms before his eyes - cracks split lovers apart, scorch marks turn caresses into claws, serene expressions become masks of torment. You watch him fall to his knees, utterly defeated - the muscular attendant from before approaches him, and places a heavy, if a little oily hand on his shoulder. {link to: 'frescoes', label: 'Back'} [note] Um... gulp... y-yes, hold still just a moment longer, P-Perfect, yes... just like that... There... the... the commander will be pleased with this, Nothing like a bit of inspiration for the men's relaxation. W-what in Mars' name...? No! My... my masterpiece! Noooooooooo! [continue]

FrescoesState: 'past_seen' -- As you focus on the elaborate wall decorations, the underground chamber dissolves around you. The air grows warm and humid, filled with the sound of flowing water and muffled conversations. Oil lamps burn brightly in wall niches, casting steady golden light across freshly painted plaster. A young man kneels before the wall, grinding pigments on a marble palette. His tunic is stained with ochre and vermillion. Behind him, a number of people are moving between heated pools, their voices echoing off the vaulted ceiling. The artist glances over his shoulder, studying a particular couple near the massage platform. The woman lies on her stomach, bare back glistening with oil as a muscular attendant straddles her thighs. His large hands work down her spine, fingers pressing into the small of her back while her rounded ass curves beneath his position. His brush moves across the wet plaster, capturing the way her breasts press against the stone, the attendant's thick, veiny forearms as he kneads her flesh. "*Hem... ita... ita vero, paululum adhuc sta immotus,*" he calls softly. [[Neither seems to notice his observation.->Past Frescoes Occasion 2]]

The artist's attention shifts to another group near the heated pool. A soldier has pulled a young woman against the stone edge, her full breasts pressed against his chest as water drips from her dark nipples. His calloused hands grip her wide hips while she wraps her thighs around his waist, both lost in their coupling. The painter's brush captures the soldier's muscular shoulders. He works quickly, adding the curve of her spine as she arches against him, the way her buttocks clench in his rough palms. "*P-perfecte, ita... sic... sic plane...*" he murmurs, adding delicate shadows where the soldier's hands press into her waist. The fresco is nearing its completion. A brazier burns nearby, its coals glowing red-hot to warm the chamber and keep the atmosphere comfortable for the bathers. The artist occasionally warms his hands over [[the flames->Past Frescoes Cutscene 3]] between applications of paint. [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a scorching, crackling hum...->Past Frescoes Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The artist steps back to admire his work. The fresco depicts an intricate scene of lust - couples with legs intertwined, hands grasping at heavy breasts and firm buttocks, tongues meeting between parted lips. A woman straddles a man's lap while his hands cup her swaying breasts; another pair locks in embrace with her thigh wrapped around his hip. The pigments gleam wet in the lamplight, still settling into the plaster. "*Ecce... Ecce! Imperator... imperator hoc delectabitur,*" he says to himself, wiping paint-stained fingers on his tunic. "*Nihil sicut paulum inspirationis ad militum relaxationem.*" The brazier crackles nearby, its iron frame glowing with heat. The coals within pulse red and orange, maintaining the chamber's warmth. The artist has placed it close to help dry his work, the radiant heat speeding the curing process. The vision wavers. {link to: 'frescoes', label: 'Back'}

A column of soldiers enters the chamber, their armor clanking as they file through on their way to the surface. The first few nod to the attendant, who waves back without pausing in his work. "*Salve, Marce! Num laborare an cessare malles, hem?*" calls out a young soldier near the back of the group. "*Sane, et cave ne rursum totam aquam perdas ut antea, Gai!*" Marcus replies, opening another valve. Water pressure increases noticeably - you can hear it rushing through the overhead pipes with greater force. "*Some of us actually need a proper wash after dealing with your lot's training mess.*" The soldiers laugh as they continue past, heading up stone steps toward daylight. "*Tibi igitur piscinas frigidas servabimus!*" another shouts back. Marcus grins and shakes his head, turning his attention to the largest valve. This one requires both hands to turn, and when it opens fully, water cascades through the main pipe with [[considerable pressure.->Past Aqueduct Occasion 3]] [note] Morning, Marcus! Hard at work or hardly working, ay? Aye, and you'd better not waste all of the water like last time, Gaius! Some of us actually need a proper wash after dealing with your lot's training mess. We'll save you the cold pools then! [continue] [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a focused, redirecting hum...->Past Aqueduct Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

Marcus steps back, satisfied with his work. Water flows forcefully through all the overhead pipes now, the sound of rushing liquid echoing throughout the chamber. Steam begins rising from various points where the heated water travels somewhere above. The largest pipe carries the strongest flow, water surging upward through a channel that follows the stone ceiling. Smaller pipes branch off in different directions, but the main current rushes along the overhead stones with considerable force. The vision begins to fade, pulling you back toward the present. {link to: 'broken aqueduct pipes', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a focused, redirecting hum...->Past Aqueduct Aether Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The collapse begins in earnest - not just the barrier between them, but the entire ceiling structure. Dust fills the air as massive blocks tumble downward, and both voices cry out in alarm before being swallowed by the thunderous crash of falling stone. *** Time itself is forcibly halted. *You can't let this happen. You won't let this happen.* There are no more choices left: for Eleanor's sake, you must [[start this over from the very beginning->Weekend Expedition Cutscene 4.5]]. You don't have enough energy to get you back to before the first collapse, but it's better than the alternative. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

The barrier gives way, its stones tumbling inward rather than outward, their debris falling toward the chamber's center instead of crushing the trapped pair. Simultaneously, the redirected water pressure overhead reaches its breaking point. A section of the ceiling directly above the fallen barrier cracks and splits, but instead of catastrophic collapse, the weakened stones fall in a precise line - you watch as orange light pokes its way into the space, multiplying by the second. Huge limestone blocks cascade down to merge with the barrier's remains, and for a second, you notice a shimmer of pink light [[getting caught under them.->Barrier Collapse Aether Cutscene 3]]

The chamber settles into stillness. Where once an impassable stone wall divided the space, there's now a rough, but climbable slope of limestone blocks leading upward, towards blessed daylight. The evening light filtering down illuminates the space with a golden, if a little dusty, glow. The ancient Roman engineering, guided by your intervention, has opened a direct route to the surface. [[The way is clear.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 1]]

"*Here! Yes, I'm quite alright!*" Richard's voice carries from beyond a scattered heap of limestone blocks. "*Nothing... oof, oh dear... nothing compared to that sandstorm outside Cairo, I can assure you. A bit unexpected, but these old Romans knew their business after all.*" You watch Eleanor's shoulders sag with relief as she picks her way carefully through the debris toward his voice. Behind the rubble, Richard pushes himself upright, spectacles somehow still intact despite the dust coating their lenses. He brushes off his jacket, even though it's probably a lost cause. "*Fascinating how the structural collapse created a perfect egress route. The water must have been deteriorating the ceiling for-*" His scholarly enthusiasm is cut short as he attempts to step forward to meet Eleanor halfway. His right foot touches the ground and immediately buckles. Richard stumbles, [[catching himself against a fallen stone with a sharp intake of breath.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 3]]

"*Oh! Richard, your ankle-*" Eleanor reaches him quickly, her earlier wariness forgotten. She extends her arm without hesitation, allowing him to steady himself against her shoulder. "*Twisted it, I suspect.*" Richard winces as he tests his weight on the injured foot. "*Rather clumsy of me, really. Not exactly the impression I'd hoped to make on our first proper expedition together.*" Eleanor adjusts her position to better support him, her practical nature taking precedence over any awkwardness. "*Oh, shut up. A ceiling collapsed on top of you, for god's sake.*" She glances toward the slope of rubble leading upward to the circle of daylight. "*Can you manage to walk if you lean on me?*" "*I... I believe so, yes. Thank you, Ellie.*" His voice carries genuine gratitude as they begin moving slowly across the chamber floor, making their way to the base of the newly formed slope. [[Eleanor studies the climb ahead.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 4]]

The slope of fallen stones stretches upward at a manageable angle, rough-hewn limestone blocks creating natural footholds. Sunlight streams down through the opening above, warming the topmost stones and painting the ascent in golden hues. "*It's not as steep as it first appeared,*" Eleanor observes, testing the stability of the nearest boulder with her free hand. "*The stones seem settled enough. We should be able to manage it.*" Richard nods, though you can see him favoring his good foot as they position themselves at the base of the climb. Eleanor moves to his injured side, creating a steady point of support. "*Careful now, one step at a time,*" she murmurs, guiding his hand to a secure handhold. [["*I've got you.*"->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 4.5]]

They begin their ascent slowly, Eleanor matching Richard's careful pace. Her skirt catches briefly on the rough stone, but she adjusts without complaint, her attention focused entirely on ensuring Richard's stability. Each placement of his injured foot requires a moment's pause, but the stones hold firm beneath their weight. [[The circle of daylight grows larger above them.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 5]]

Eleanor emerges first, pulling herself over the final edge of broken stone onto solid ground. She immediately turns to extend both hands down to Richard, who grasps them gratefully as she helps him make the last awkward step up from the rubble. They stand together at the rim of the opening, breathing heavily from the climb. The late afternoon air feels impossibly fresh after the enclosed chamber, carrying the scent of moorland grass and the distant sound of wind. Richard leans heavily against Eleanor as they move away from the unstable edge, his injured ankle requiring her continued support. A few paces from the opening, they settle - better yet, fall - onto a patch of soft grass, the relief of reaching safety rendering them both temporarily speechless. The golden light of early evening bathes the surrounding ruins. In the distance, you can see Richard's abandoned picnic basket waiting beneath the sheltered archway where he'd left it hours ago. [[Eleanor breaks the silence first.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 6]]

"*You know, when that first collapse happened,*" Eleanor says turning to him, "*I... I don't know. Maybe I was just following your lead, you were calm about it, and have more experience than me with ancient ruins, but... well.*" Her tone drops, her voice barely above a whisper, "*I wasn't afraid of being trapped down there.*" She stares back across the moorland, her fingers absently plucking at the grass beside her. "*I mean, I was. A little. but... that wasn't the worst part.*" Richard turns to look at her, wincing slightly as the movement jostles his ankle. "*The worst part was thinking I might never...*" Her voice catches, and she takes a shaky breath. "*That we might never get the chance to... to finish our conversation from lunch. Or have another one. I kept thinking about all the things I'd wanted to say to you, but never...*" She trails off, color rising in her dust-streaked cheeks. Richard reaches over slowly, [[his hand covering hers where it rests on the grass.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 7]]

"*I know exactly what you mean,*" Richard says softly, his thumb tracing gently across her knuckles. "*When I heard that grinding sound, saw the stones coming down... my first thought wasn't about the excavation, or the historical significance, or even getting out safely.*" He pauses, swallowing hard as he searches for the right words. "*It was that I'd been a complete fool. That I'd spent months - years, really - finding excuses to seek your opinion on translations, to linger by your office door, to invite you to examine artifacts that any competent curator could have catalogued perfectly well alone.*" His voice grows steadier with each word. "*And that I'd never once been brave enough to simply tell you that those weren't the real reasons at all.*" Eleanor's breath catches as she turns to face him fully, her eyes wide and searching. "*The real reason was that I... that I've grown quite fond of you, Ellie.* *[[More than fond, if I'm being honest.*"->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 8]]

Eleanor's free hand moves to cover their joined ones, her fingers interlacing with his. "*Richard...*" she whispers, and there's... something in her expression, as if a weight she'd been carrying has finally lifted. "*I was afraid you saw me as just another colleague. Someone useful for research, but nothing more.*" Her voice grows stronger, if a little wobbly. "*I never imagined... I mean, you're brilliant, and worldly, and you've traveled to places I've only read about in books. Why would you...*" "*Because you understand,*" Richard interrupts gently. "*When you examine an artifact, you see the people who made it, who used it, who left pieces of their lives embedded in clay and stone. You make the past feel... alive. That's quite extraordinary, Ellie.*" Their faces are closer now, drawn together - the golden light catches the white dust still clinging to their clothes, the cracked lens of Eleanor's spectacles forgotten in her pocket. "*I'd very much like to kiss you,*" Richard murmurs, "*if you'd allow it.*" [[Eleanor's answer comes without hesitation.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 9]]

Their lips meet softly, tentatively at first, then with growing certainty. It's gentle. Unhurried. Her hand comes up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the dusty fabric of his shirt. When they part, they remain close, foreheads nearly touching, sharing the same warm air. Eleanor's cheeks are flushed, [[but her smile is radiant->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 9.5]], despite the grime and exhaustion of their ordeal.

Richard's thumb traces along her jaw, brushing away a streak of limestone dust. "I should probably see about that ankle, shouldn't I," he says softly, though he makes no move to pull away. "Probably," Eleanor agrees, her voice equally quiet. "And I should find my spare spectacles when we get back. Can't have you thinking I'm always this disheveled on expeditions." "I rather like you disheveled," Richard admits, and Eleanor's laugh is warm and unguarded. [[They sit together in comfortable closeness as the afternoon light begins to deepen.->Weekend Expedition Romantic Freed Ending 10]]

WeekendExpeditionAttended: true -- Eventually, they help each other to their feet, Richard leaning on Eleanor's steady support as they begin the slow walk back toward the ruins proper. Their voices grow softer as they move away across the moorland - two figures silhouetted against the golden evening light. You find your awareness beginning to waver, the edges of your perception growing dim as the distance increases. The connection that bound you to this place, to this moment, starts to dissolve. As consciousness fades, their quiet conversation drifts back on the wind, punctuated by Eleanor's occasional laughter. {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'The evening settles over the ancient stones.'} {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'}

The ceiling of the main chamber, already weakened by the initial collapse, finally surrenders to time and pressure. Stone crashes against stone in a cascade that makes the chamber floor tremble beneath their feet. They spin toward the sound, watching dust billow through the archway they'd just passed through. When the rumbling finally subsides, only silence remains where their path back had been. [[Eleanor turns to face Richard, her face flushed.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 2]]

Richard reaches for her instinctively, his hands finding her shoulders as his eyes search her face with obvious concern. "*Are you hurt? That sounded...*" His voice trails off as their gazes meet. You take a moment to inspect the chamber - small, warm. Private. Several oil lamps flicker along the walls, their flames casting a soft pink glow across the smooth stone surfaces. The air carries the lingering warmth from whatever heating system once operated here, making their heavy outdoor clothes suddenly feel stifling. Eleanor's breathing remains quick and shallow, her lips slightly parted. "*I'm... I'm fine,*" she manages, though her voice has dropped to barely above a whisper. "*Richard, we're...*" "*Trapped,*" he finishes, his thumb unconsciously tracing along her collarbone where his hand rests. "*Completely alone.*" Neither moves to step away. [[The weight of his hands on her shoulders grows more deliberate.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 3]]

Eleanor's hands rise to rest against his chest, her fingers spreading across the dusty linen of his shirt. "*Richard...*" she breathes, and you watch as his grip on her shoulders tightens. His head lowers toward hers, spectacles sliding down his nose until their foreheads nearly touch. "*Ellie.*" The formal distance that typically marks their interactions has vanished entirely. You observe Eleanor tilt her face upward, her eyes fluttering closed. Their lips meet - tentative at first, then with growing urgency. Richard's hands slip from her shoulders to the small of her back, pulling her closer against him. When they break apart, both are breathing harder. Eleanor's hands have fisted in his shirt fabric, while Richard's fingers work at the heavy buttons of her wool coat. [[You watch them guide each other toward a smooth stone bench built into the chamber wall.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 4]] "*Too warm,*" Eleanor murmurs.

The stone bench extends along the wall, its surface smooth and warmed by the chamber's heat. Eleanor sits first, the heavy wool coat sliding from her shoulders as Richard helps pull it free. The garment drops to the stone floor with a muffled thump. Richard's field jacket follows, leather hitting stone. His hands return to her cream blouse, fingers working the brass buttons that strain across her chest. Eleanor reaches for his linen shirt, tugging it free from his waistband. You watch her breathing quicken as the blouse falls open, revealing the structured, though bent lines of her corset beneath. Richard's shirt pulls over his head, his spectacles knocked askew, and Eleanor's hands immediately start tracing the lean muscles of his chest while he fumbles with the complex lacings at her back. The expedition skirts prove stubborn - heavy fabric, multiple layers, a tangle of ties and fastenings. Eleanor shifts on the bench, lifting herself to help as Richard works the material down over her widened hips. [[His hands pause at the swell of her belly, visible now through the thin chemise.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 5]]

Richard's fingers work the chemise drawstring loose, the linen falling open to reveal Eleanor's form in the pink lamplight. Her belly curves outward prominently, the soft flesh marked with faint red lines where her corset had pressed. Above, her breasts rest heavily, freed from their structured confinement. Eleanor exhales sharply - relief, perhaps, maybe a little bit of embarrassment. Her hands move to cover herself, then hesitate as Richard's palms settle on either side of her waist. His thumbs trace the gentle expansion of her hips. She pulls him down beside her on the warm stone, their mouths finding each other again. Richard's hands explore the roundness of her form while Eleanor tugs at his remaining clothes. When he shifts to kiss her neck, she arches back against the smooth wall, her belly rising toward him. The bench accommodates them side by side, though Eleanor's curves press against Richard as they move together. Her breathing grows heavier - from exertion or arousal, you cannot tell. [[Eleanor guides him as she repositions herself above him.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 6]]

Eleanor braces her hands against Richard's chest as she maneuvers herself over him, her belly brushing against his erect cock. The position proves awkward - her weight distribution unfamiliar, her center of gravity shifted. "*I'm not... this is... a bit hard,*" she breathes, steadying herself as Richard's hands find her hips. Her thighs spread wide to accommodate both his frame and her own expanded form. You observe as she lowers herself onto him, taking him inside her body with what starts as deliberate slowness, and finishes as more of a fall, followed by a gasp. The pink lamplight catches the perspiration beginning to form across her chest and shoulders as she adjusts to the sensation, [[and so the immediate, quivering girth inside of her->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 7]].

Eleanor attempts to lift herself, muscles straining against the unfamiliar weight distribution. Her movements are uneven - too fast, then hesitant, then grinding to an awkward halt as her thighs tremble with effort. Richard's hands on her hips try to guide her... but it's no use. "*I can't... there's just too much... o-oh dear...*" Eleanor pants, sweat beading across her forehead. Her belly presses down heavily, making each upward motion a struggle. Richard shifts beneath her, trying to help support her weight, but the angle remains wrong. Eleanor's breathing grows ragged. After another failed attempt to establish any sustainable movement, she slumps forward. Defeated, but not giving up, she begins extracting herself - the process graceless as her weight shifts, though Richard helps steady her as she dismounts, both of them flushed and breathing hard. She moves toward the bench, placing her hands flat against its smooth surface. She bends forward, letting her gut and chest slump over the stone, and offering her backside to him. [[Richard rises behind her, understanding.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 8]]

Richard positions himself behind her, his hands settling on the flare of her hips. He guides himself to her entrance, then pushes forward, slowly. Eleanor's fingers grip the bench edge as he enters her, the angle allowing him to penetrate more deeply into her pussy than before. [[A much more manageable position.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 8.5]]

His movements begin tentatively, then grow more confident as he finds a sustainable rhythm - one that, by the sound of Eleanor's breathy moans, is having an effect. Her belly sways slightly with each of Richard's thrusts, the soft mass moving in counterpoint to his motion. Perspiration gleams across her back in the pink lamplight. Richard's pace increases, his grip on her hips tightening. Eleanor pushes back against him, the stone bench firm under their combined movement. The chamber fills with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and their increasingly urgent breathing - Richard's movements become more and more erratic. At that, [[your vision turns completely pink.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 9]]

The magenta light coalesces before you into the voluptuous form you glimpsed earlier - perfect curves, glowing flesh, those unnaturally wide white eyes now fixed on the coupling pair with intense satisfaction. *"Finally! Oh, how I've waited... centuries, dreaming of this moment!"* Her voice carries breathless excitement as she hovers near Richard's increasingly desperate thrusts, placing a hand over his shoulder. *"The technique of this one could use some... refinement," She shift in front of Eleanor, poking her belly by the side. "and the lady's appetite is making things a little harder. Wouldn't you agree? Still, PASSION! Raw, beautiful LUST!"* Richard's movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged as he approaches his peak. [[The Lust spirit claps her hands together in delight, giggling to herself.->Weekend Expedition Choice Point 1]]

WeekendExpeditionAttended: true -- *"This moment... this glorious culmination... to think it could be so much MORE than mere pleasure!"* She turns those empty white eyes toward you, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. *"You understand, don't you? I'm sure you do. Why else would you have helped otherwise?"* Eleanor pushes back against Richard's thrusts, her own breathing growing urgent. *"A silent one, are you not? Come now, you've been such a good boy... I'll leave the honor to you! Just be quick about it, ok dear? [[She won't be ready for much longer->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 10]]."* [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a fierce, passionate presence...->Weekend Expedition Pregnancy Aether]] [continue]

[unless RichardEngagment] The spirit hovers around the room, her magenta form starting to fade. *"Ah, you're NO fun! Ah, well, I don't really care. I got what I came for. Goodbye! "* The pink light dims as the spirit vanishes, leaving only the oil lamps' gentle, yellowy glow. [continue] A moment later, Richard collapses against Eleanor's back, both of them breathing hard, utterly spent. Slowly he straightens. Eleanor pushes herself upright from the stone bench, her legs unsteady as she turns to face him. They look at each other with a mixture of satisfaction, but also what looks to be slight embarrassment, the reality of what just occurred settling between them. Richard reaches for his scattered clothes while Eleanor smooths down her disheveled hair. "*Well,*" Eleanor says softly, her voice carrying a note of wonder. "*That was...*" "*Quite... extraordinary. Unexpected, really... but... well, [[I am not complaining->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 11]].*" Richard finishes, pulling his shirt over his head.

RichardEngagment: true -- You focus your essence, channeling a precise vibration through the stone beneath them. At the exact moment Richard reaches his peak, you apply gentle pressure to his lower back, pushing him deeper into Eleanor as his body shudders with release. The spirit hovers around the room, her magenta form practically glowing with triumph. *"YES! Oh, lovely! Perfect timing!"* She claps her hands together in excitement as she hovers near the coupled pair. Eleanor gasps at the deeper penetration, her fingers clawing at the stone bench as Richard's seed spills into her [[much deeper than perhaps intended->Weekend Expedition Pregnancy Aether 2]].

*"Such beautiful work! Such exquisite collaboration!"* The presence spins in the air, her voice filled with satisfied hunger. *"Nine months hence, they'll have such a lovely surprise! What a shame we won't be here to witness it... well, not really - I prefer this part to the next. A matter of taste, I'm sure you understand."* [[The pink light dims as the spirit vanishes, leaving only the oil lamps' gentle, yellowy glow.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 10]] *"My work here is done. Yours too, I suspect...? No...? Well, I don't really care. I got what I came for, AH! Goodbye!"*

They dress quickly but without urgency, stealing glances at each other as they retrieve scattered garments. Eleanor's blouse goes on first, though she leaves several buttons undone. Richard tucks his shirt into his trousers, his movements less fumbling than before. You observe them gather their oil lamps and move toward the rear of the chamber, where a narrow passage extends deeper into the hillside. The tunnel slopes upward, carved stone giving way to rougher natural rock as they climb. Eleanor leads the way, her lamp casting dancing shadows on the walls. Richard follows close behind, one hand occasionally steadying himself against her shoulder when the passage narrows. The air grows fresher as they ascend, carrying hints of grass and evening moisture. After several minutes of careful climbing, natural light appears ahead - not the warm pink glow of the oil lamps, but the cooler blue-gray of twilight filtering down through an opening in the hillside. [[They emerge onto a grass-covered slope, both blinking in the dim evening air.->Weekend Expedition Intercourse Ending 12]]

WeekendExpeditionAttended: true -- They help each other down the slope, moving slowly across the moorland toward the ruins proper. Their voices carry softly on the evening air - quiet murmurs punctuated by occasional shared laughter as they navigate the uneven ground together. You find your awareness beginning to waver, the edges of your perception growing dim as the distance increases. The connection that bound you to this place, to this moment, starts to dissolve. As consciousness fades, their quiet conversation drifts back on the wind. Two figures silhouetted against the deepening twilight, moving away across the ancient landscape where so much has been decided. {plainlink to: 'Next Day Name', label: 'The evening settles over the ancient stones.'} {embed passage: 'Day End Passage Logic'}

Eleanor picks up the bronze mirror fragment in frustration, angling it toward the morning light to examine its engravings more closely. The polished surface catches the sun, casting reflected patterns across her rubbings. As the light shifts, something clicks. She holds the mirror directly over one of her V-marked tracings. The symbol transforms before her eyes - just like that, these are not abstract markings anymore. Two smaller circles. Both above a larger, rounded form beneath. A V-shaped mark nestled in the center of the lower curve. Eleanor seems to have finally got it. It's the tracing of a woman's silhouette - [[the V indicating the navel of a prominently swollen belly.->Research Cutscene 1.25]]

You hear her pulse quickening. She sets the mirror aside and reaches for a wooden fertility figurine - a Mediterranean piece, acquired for comparative study. The resemblance is undeniable: the same emphasis on generous hips and rounded middle. She sketches rapid comparisons, her pencil moving with new energy. But as she attempts to apply this revelation to the triple-circle motifs and other accompanying symbols, the pattern fractures again. The fertility goddess approach explains the V-marks but... [[what about the other shapes?->Research Cutscene 1.3]]

Eleanor leans back in her chair, rubbing her temples. She stares at the clay pot shards and stone disc, their additional markings still refusing to conform to any known Celtic or fertility cult framework. She closes the Celtic symbology texts with more force than necessary. The traditional archaeological approaches have carried her this far - no further. Her sketches now show clear progress, though: the body-symbol connection is undeniable, supported by comparative analysis with known fertility artifacts. She surrounding elements - the triple circles, the geometric patterns, the contextual symbols found alongside the female figures - don't fit just yet. But it might just be a matter of time. [[The morning's research concludes.->Research Ending]]

The crude vessel is set down, and a small stone tablet fragment is instead picked up. Cuneiform script etches across its surface - clear enough to make out individual markings. She reaches for a translation guide, her finger tracing symbols as she works through the ancient text. Her breathing grows shallow. The words form slowly: "ritual feast... divine favor... abundance..." The tablet slips from her grasp, clattering against the desk. Eleanor stares at it for a moment, then at her comparison sketches. The bronze bowl with its elaborate processions, and the crude clay vessel, [[rougher->Research Cutscene 2.3]], are not the only artefacts found in the same general location, and sharing clear craftmanship differences based on the age.

ResearchProgress: 2 -- Eleanor spreads her artifacts across the desk in a wide arc. The cylinder seal beside the bronze bowl. The stone tablet fragment next to her Brittany rubbings. The crude clay vessel at the center of it all. Her pencil moves rapidly now, sketching connections between the pieces. Lines link the abundance symbols from Mesopotamia to the body-forms from Brittany. Notes scribble in the margins: "progressive degradation of technique" and "cultural transmission through religious practice." She opens a fresh notebook and begins a new page. At the top, she writes: "Patterns of Ritualistic Consumption Across Ancient Cultures." Below it, she lists locations, dates, artifact types. Quality. The pattern becomes undeniable. Each site shows the same progression - sophisticated early work giving way to cruder imitations. As if the original practitioners had vanished, leaving only followers trying to recreate something [[they no longer fully understood.->Research Ending]]

Eleanor tilts the statuette, examining its carved contours against her sketches. Same rounded belly, same suggestion of abundance sculped into the smooth granite. She looks at the window and as she notices the cloudy weather, she wonders as to why it's warm to the touch. That line of thought, however, is not followed - on a whim, she turns the vessel upside down. [[Her breath catches.->Research Cutscene 3]] *Yours would too, if only you had lungs. But by now, you had your suspicions.*

Carved into the granite's underside is the same V-marked symbol. Eleanor sets the vessel down, carefully. She stares at it, then at her research notes scattered across the desk, then back at the vessel. A slow smile spreads across her face. *"How did... how on earth did this happen?"* she murmurs to herself, her voice filled with wonder. *"Years. I've had this for years, just sitting in my flat, and now..."* She shakes her head, and a laugh escapes her - half disbelief, half delight. *"Of all the artifacts in all the world... you really are a lucky charm, are you not?"* [[Her gaze drifts across the office.->Research Cutscene 3.4]]

Eleanor pushes back from her desk and crosses to the corner where several storage crates sit stacked against the wall. Her hands move with purpose now, lifting the lid of the nearest one. Inside, nestled among packing straw and wrapped artifacts, she finds what she's looking for. Her fingers close around a [[rough-looking object->Imperfect Vessel]]. Side by side, the contrast is striking. Where your vessel is smooth granite carved with precision and care, this artifact looks to have its general shape, but much cruder in nature, lumpy. Both show the unmistakable V-marked symbol, but where your vessel's is elegantly integrated into the form, this one's marking looks scratched rather than carved.

Eleanor lifts the small paper tag, holding it close to the window. The handwriting is cramped but legible - field notes from some long-ago excavation. *"Item #1247. Rough stone vessel. Local informants described as 'vessel, for demons of hunger.' Appears to be crude imitation of more sophisticated original. Found in lower cave system, post-Roman strata. Note: Locals avoided site, claimed 'infested.'"* *"Demons of hunger,"* she whispers. *"Spirits tied to consumption... to physical abundance... to help people on the path to enlightment... more so a greek daemon then a proper demon, then..."* Her eyes fix on your vessel - just then, her stomach grumbles, prompting her to place a hand on her belly, and to giggle. *"Well then, not just decorative, are you?*" She picks it up again, nearing it to her face. [[*"Still... functional, I see."*->Research Ending]]

[[Research Ending]]

SlotTwoEvent: 'TAVERN' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'TEAROOM' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

SlotTwoEvent: 'PIECART' -- With a low, concentrated hum, you will the ink onto the calendar to rearrange itself into a different shape and meaning altogether. Their shape comes to you as if reflected off of Eleanor's own mind and, in the end, even her calligraphy is preserved. {embed passage: 'Lunch Activity Flavour Text'} {link to: 'Slot Selection', label: 'Back'}

The weathered sign of "The Crown & Anchor" creaks overhead, its painted gold crown flaking from years of exposure. This is not the sort of establishment a respectable lady frequents alone, and Eleanor hesitates on the pavement, clutching her workbag. The muffled sounds of boisterous laughter and the clatter of tankards spill from the stained-glass windows. But the aroma... the undeniable, deeply savory scent of roasted meat and gravy proves too compelling. Taking a steadying breath, [[she pushes open the heavy oak door and steps inside.->Tavern Cutscene 1.5]]

The bell above the door of "The Gilded Spoon" announces Eleanor's arrival with a delicate, silver chime. The interior is a world away from the dusty halls of the museum - all polished mahogany, plush velvet chairs, and the quiet, respectable murmur of the city's society ladies. Her stomach gives a low, hopeful rumble as she sees it: a multi-tiered cake trolley, a wheeled altar to confection, being presented at a nearby table. You watch Eleanor's eyes widen, her breath catching as she takes in the glistening fruit tarts, the thick slices of Battenberg cake, the dark, glossy chocolate tortes promising untold richness. [[The air is thick with the scent of sugar and butter.->Tea Room Cutscene 1.5]]

The cart stands at the museum's front steps, painted green with gold lettering that proclaims "DOBSON'S FINE PIES" in cheerful script. Steam rises from the covered compartments, carrying the rich aroma of baked pastry and seasoned meat. The vendor himself is a round, genial man with flour-dusted sleeves, arranging his wares with practiced efficiency. Eleanor approaches with purposeful steps, her coin purse already in hand. This is exactly what her schedule demands - no lingering over menus or waiting for service, just a quick, practical meal to fuel the afternoon's work. "*Good afternoon, miss!*" the vendor calls, lifting the lid of his warming compartment with a theatrical flourish. "*Fresh from the oven this morning - meat and potato, steak and kidney, or my special shepherd's pie with extra gravy.*" [[The pastry gleams golden-brown in the afternoon light.->Pie Cart Cutscene 2]]

The barmaid returns with a heavy pewter tankard of dark ale and a large, steaming bowl of steak and kidney stew, its rich gravy threatening to overflow onto the wooden tray. A thick slice of dark bread sits beside it - perfect for mopping. Eleanor starts off with measured bites - the tender meat, slow-cooked in the rich, dark gravy, falls apart on her tongue. She eventually abandons her fork, tearing off chunks of the bread to chase the last of the stew around the bowl, her movements growing less inhibited as the ale warms her. The sounds of the tavern fade into a low hum, her world narrowing to the meal before her. As she sets the now-empty, practically licked-clean bowl aside, her gaze is drawn to a chalkboard menu behind the bar. "Shepherd's Pie," it reads, "[[with cheddar topping->Tavern Cutscene 2.5]]."

The tavern's interior is dim and close, the air thick with the smell of stale ale, sawdust, and roasting onions. A low, beamed ceiling presses down on the noisy patrons crowded around dark wooden tables. A barmaid with formidable arms and a weary expression wipes down the counter, nodding at Eleanor as she finds a small, secluded booth in the corner. [[Eleanor takes a seat, trying to appear nonchalant.->Tavern Cutscene 2]]

A deep, insistent pang of hunger, shockingly powerful despite the stew already settling heavily in her stomach, makes the decision for her. She catches the barmaid's eye and, with a subtle nod toward the chalkboard, signals for another course. [[The barmaid returns, a fresh tankard of ale in hand.->Tavern Cutscene 3]]

The shepherd's pie arrives, its browned potato topping bubbling with a lovely spread of melted cheese. This second meal goes by much, much faster. Eleanor barely registers its taste, driven only by the need to fill the gnawing emptiness that the stew had failed to vanquish. When the last spoonful is gone, she leans back heavily against the booth's worn leather, a low groan escaping her lips. Her waistcoat is a lost cause, the bottom two buttons undone to grant her swollen belly some measure of relief - even so, the pressure is immense. Her chemise strains, and the waistband of her skirt cuts a deep, angry red line into the soft fat. Her face is flushed, a fine sheen of perspiration on her brow, and her breathing is deep and [[deliberate->Tavern Cutscene 3.5]].

SlotTwoAttended: true TavernVisited: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 5 -- She remains there for several long minutes, her eyes closed, one hand resting on the tight, warm mound of her stomach. A small, involuntary burp escapes, tasting of rich gravy and ale. The walk back to the museum is a slow, careful waddle, each step a conscious effort not to jostle her uncomfortably full gut. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

A waitress in a crisp black dress approaches. "*A table for one, madam?*" Eleanor is seated, her hands clenched tightly in her lap beneath the table. The waitress returns. "*And what will we be having today?*" Eleanor's gaze darts from the trolley, to the elegant woman at the next table daintily sipping her tea, and back to the waitress. Her mouth is watering, but the words that come out are small and tight. "*Just... just a pot of the Earl Grey, thank you. Nothing else.*" [[The waitress nods with her polite smile.->Tea Room Cutscene 2]]

SlotTwoAttended: true TearoomVisited: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- The pot of tea arrives. Eleanor pours a cup with hands that tremble almost imperceptibly. With every delicate sip she takes, she can smell the almond from a nearby slice of cake. You both can hear the faint, crisp crackle as another patron's fork breaks through the caramelized sugar of a crème brûlée. Her stomach, utterly betrayed, lets out a low, mournful growl. She presses a hand against her abdomen, hoping to stifle the sound, her cheeks flushing hot. She feels, rather than sees, the appraising glance of a woman at a nearby table - she quickly fixes her gaze on her teacup, drinking the tea far too quickly, desperate to escape. Leaving the coins on the table, she walks briskly out of the tearoom, the delicate bell chiming her retreat. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

SlotTwoAttended: true PieCartVisited: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 3 -- "*The steak and kidney, if you please.*" Eleanor's transaction is swift and efficient - coins exchanged, steaming pie wrapped in brown paper and pressed into her hands. She intends to carry it back to her office, to eat while reviewing her correspondence. But the first bite, taken standing right there on the museum steps, changes everything. The pastry crumbles at her touch, releasing a cloud of savory steam. The filling is unexpectedly rich - tender beef swimming in thick, dark gravy, the kidneys adding a depth of flavor that catches her completely off guard. Before she quite realizes it, she's consumed the entire pie while standing there, licking the last traces of gravy from her fingers. Her stomach feels pleasantly heavy, more satisfied than she'd anticipated from such a simple purchase. The vendor tips his cap as she disposes of the paper wrapping, already calling to his next customer. Eleanor smooths her waistcoat - snugger now against her comfortably full middle - and returns to the museum with a small, satisfied smile. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

WeightGained (TotalCalories < 5): 'NONE' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 5 && TotalCalories < 15): 'CHUBBY' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 15 && TotalCalories < 30): 'PLUMP' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 30 && TotalCalories < 45): 'FAT' WeightGained (TotalCalories >= 45): 'OBESE' DayFullnessState (DayCalories <= 3): 'HUNGRY' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 3 && DayCalories <= 6): 'SATISFIED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 6 && DayCalories <= 8): 'STUFFED' DayFullnessState (DayCalories > 8): 'BURSTING' -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] **CORE STATS** WeightGained Stage: {WeightGained} (TotalCalories: {TotalCalories}) DayFullnessState Stage: {DayFullnessState} (TotalCalories: {DayCalories}) ExpeditionFunds: {ExpeditionFunds} ResearchProgress: {ResearchProgress} [[Switch between TotalCalories and DayCalories]] [if TotalCaloriesDebug] **To Total Calories:** [if DayCaloriesDebug] **To Day Calories:** [continue] [[+1 Calories]] [[+5 Calories]] [[+10 Calories]] [[+20 Calories]] [[-1 Calories]] [[-5 Calories]] [[-10 Calories]] [[-20 Calories]] [[+1 Funds]] [[-1 Funds]] [[+1 Research]] **RELATIONSHIPS** Violet Interest: {VioletInterest} Richard Relationship: {RichardRelationship} Mary Relationship: {MaryRelationship} [[+1 Violet]] [[+1 Richard]] [[+1 Mary]] **TIME & DAY MANAGEMENT** Current Day: {CurrentDay} [[Set to Monday]] [[Set to Tuesday]] [[Set to Wednesday]] [[Set to Thursday]] [[Set to Friday]] [[Set to Weekend]] **KEY EVENT & PLOT FLAGS** [[Skip Intro 2.0]] **Richard's Path:** [[Set Date Proposed]] [[Set Expedition Attended (Romantic Ending)]] [[Set Expedition Attended (Intercourse Ending)]] [[Set Expedition Attended (Intercourse Ending Pregnant Outcome)]] **Mary's Path:** [[Set Tea Success (Ball Invite)]] [[Set Ball Attended (Intimate)]] [[Set Ball Attended (Humiliation)]] **Violet's Path:** [[Set Archive Success (Research Invite)]] [[Set Crate Event (High Interest)]] [[Set Crate Event (Overheard)]] [[Set Violet Steal Plot]] **UTILITY** [[Return to Office]] [[Reset All Ch2 Variables]] **PATTERNS** [[Test Patterns->Patterns]] {link to: 'Settings', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories + 20 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories + 20 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories - 20 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories - 20 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ResearchProgress: ResearchProgress + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'TUESDAY' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!BankMeetingAttended): 'BANK' SlotTwoEvent (BankMeetingAttended): 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent (!MarketVisited): 'MARKET' SlotThreeEvent (MarketVisited): 'TRAIN' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'WEDNESDAY' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns == 0): 'EXHIBITION_EGYPT' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExhibitDioramaTurns > 0 && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!TranslationSessionAttended && DateProposed): 'TRANSLATION' SlotTwoEvent (TranslationSessionAttended): 'TEAROOM' SlotTwoEvent (!DateProposed): 'TEAROOM' SlotThreeEvent: 'LEISURE_CAFE' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'FRIDAY' ExpertConsultationAttended: true SlotOneEvent (!ExpertConsultationAttended): 'EXPERT' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !WeekendExpeditionAttended && DateProposed && TranslationSessionAttended): 'WEEKEND_EXPEDITION' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && WeekendExpeditionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !DateProposed && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ExpertConsultationAttended && !TranslationSessionAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && VioletArchiveSuccessful): 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && MikaCollectionRevealed): 'VIOLET_CRATE_MIKA' SlotThreeEvent (VioletCrateAttended && !SocietyBallAttended && BallInvitationGained): 'SOCIETY_BALL' SlotThreeEvent (!VioletCrateAttended && !MikaCollectionRevealed && !SocietyBallAttended && BallInvitationGained): 'SOCIETY_BALL' SlotThreeEvent: 'TRAIN' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories + 5 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories + 5 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories + 10 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories + 10 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories + 1 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories - 5 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories - 5 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

RichardRelationship: RichardRelationship + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories - 1 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories - 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds - 1 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

MatterAbility: true TimeAbility: true PersuasionAbility: true correctartefact: 3 arrowheadstaken: true clayvesseltaken: true SkullTaken: true CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' NextDay: 'MONDAY' SlotOneEvent: 'INTRO MEETING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' Intro2: true PocketWatchOfficeHint: true OfficeIntroTurns: 8 -- It is done. [[Proceed to Office?->Office]] [[Skip Intro Meeting (Weakly) too?->Skip Intro Meeting (with AmphoraState NOT 'drunk')]] [[Skip Intro Meeting (Succesfully) too?->Skip Intro Meeting (with AmphoraState 'drunk', + 4 Calories)]] [[Skip Intro Meeting (Maxing out) too?->Skip Intro Meeting (with AmphoraState 'drunk', + 4 Calories, and Pastry Cart, +1 Calories)]]

IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true AmphoraState: 'drunk' DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- It is done. [[Proceed to Office.->Office]]

IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true AmphoraState: 'base' -- It is done. [[Proceed to Office.->Office]]

CurrentDay: 'WEEKEND' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

It is done. {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

PolishExhibitSetup: true RichardCompliment: true DateProposed: true RichardRelationship: RichardRelationship + 1 ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 -- **State Set:** - RichardCompliment: true - DateProposed: true - RichardRelationship: +1 - ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 Richard has been complimented and has proposed the "Translation Session" lunch date. This event will now be available on the calendar. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TeaWithMaryAttended: true MaryTeaSuccessful: true BallInvitationGained: true MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship + 2 DayCalories: DayCalories + 5 -- **State Set:** - Tea With Mary attended and successful. - BallInvitationGained: true - MaryRelationship increased. The Society Ball event is now unlocked for Friday. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TeaWithMaryAttended: true MaryTeaSuccessful: true BallInvitationGained: true SocietyBallAttended: true MaryRelationship: 6 DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- **State Set:** - Mary's full event path attended. - MaryRelationship set to a high value. Simulates the successful, intimate outcome of the Society Ball. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ArchiveReviewAttended: true VioletArchiveSuccessful: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 -- **State Set:** - Archive Review attended and successful. - VioletInterest increased. The Private Research event with Violet is now unlocked. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ArchiveReviewAttended: true VioletArchiveSuccessful: true PrivateResearchAttended: true VioletCrateAttended: true CultArtifactAcquired_CrackedVessel: true VioletPlotStealVessel: true VioletInterest: 4 ResearchProgress: ResearchProgress + 1 DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- **State Set:** - Violet's path attended up to the Crate Event. - High Interest outcome triggered. - VioletPlotStealVessel: true (unlocks final event). Simulates the high-interest outcome of the Violet Crate event, setting the stage for her final ending. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

VioletPlotStealVessel: true -- **State Set:** - VioletPlotStealVessel: true The trigger for Violet's final event at the start of the weekend is now active. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

{embed passage: 'CH2 Variables'} It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 TranslationSessionAttended: true WeekendExpeditionAttended: true ExpeditionEnding: 'romantic/freed' RichardRelationship: 5 DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- **State Set:** - All Richard path events attended. - ExpeditionEnding: 'romantic/freed' - RichardRelationship set to a high value. Simulates the successful, non-intercourse completion of the Weekend Expedition. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 TranslationSessionAttended: true WeekendExpeditionAttended: true ExpeditionEnding: 'intercourse' RichardRelationship: 6 DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- **State Set:** - All Richard path events attended. - ExpeditionEnding: 'intercourse' - RichardRelationship set to a very high value. Simulates the successful intercourse ending of the Weekend Expedition. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

ExhibitDioramaTurns: 6 TranslationSessionAttended: true WeekendExpeditionAttended: true ExpeditionEnding: 'intercourse' RichardEngagment: true RichardRelationship: 7 DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- **State Set:** - All Richard path events attended. - ExpeditionEnding: 'intercourse' - RichardEngagment: true Simulates the pregnancy-track outcome of the Weekend Expedition. This will trigger the pregnancy ending at the end of the week. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true AmphoraState: 'drunk' PastryCartVisible: true DayCalories: DayCalories + 6 -- It is done. [[Proceed to Office.->Office]]

TotalCalories (TotalCaloriesDebug): TotalCalories - 10 DayCalories (DayCaloriesDebug): DayCalories - 10 -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TeaWithMaryAttended: true MaryTeaSuccessful: true BallInvitationGained: true SocietyBallAttended: true MaryRelationship: MaryRelationship - 4 DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- **State Set:** - Mary's full event path attended. - MaryRelationship significantly decreased. Simulates the failure/humiliation outcome of the Society Ball. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

MikaCollectionRevealed: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- **State Set:** - MikaCollectionRevealed: true The 'Overheard' path for the Violet Crate event on Friday is now unlocked. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

TotalCaloriesDebug: !TotalCaloriesDebug DayCaloriesDebug: !DayCaloriesDebug -- [if TotalCaloriesDebug] **Debug mode switched to: Total Calories** [if DayCaloriesDebug] **Debug mode switched to: Day Calories** [continue] {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

CurrentDay: 'THURSDAY' SlotOneEvent (!ArchiveReviewAttended): 'ARCHIVE_REVIEW' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !PrivateResearchAttended && VioletArchiveSuccessful): 'PRIVATE_RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes <= 2): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes > 2 && !ResearchCompleted): 'RESEARCH' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && PrivateResearchAttended && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotOneEvent (ArchiveReviewAttended && !VioletArchiveSuccessful && CataloguingTimes > 2 && ResearchCompleted): 'CATALOGUING' SlotTwoEvent (!TeaWithMaryAttended): 'MARY' SlotTwoEvent (TeaWithMaryAttended): 'TEAROOM' SlotThreeEvent (!ApothecaryVisited): 'APOTHECARY' SlotThreeEvent (ApothecaryVisited): 'ICECREAM' -- It is done. {link to: 'Debug Menu CH2', label: 'Back'}

SecondChDemo: false config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.header.right: "{embed passage: 'Powers Menu Logic'}" config.header.left: "{embed passage: 'Ascii Logic (Chapter 2)'}" config.footer.center: "{embed passage: 'Settings Menu Logic'}" WeightGained: 'NONE' TotalCalories: 0 DayCalories: 0 DayFullnessState: 'HUNGRY' ExpeditionFunds: 0 ResearchProgress: 0 ResearchConnectedToVessel: false EleanorMine: 0 MatterAbility: true TimeAbility: true PersuasionAbility: true correctartefact: 3 arrowheadstaken: true clayvesseltaken: true SkullTaken: true bathtub: false CurrentDay: 'NONE' NextDay: 'MONDAY' SlotOneEvent: 'INTRO MEETING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' Intro2: false IntroMeetingAttended: false PolishExhibitSetup: false ExpertConsultationAttended: false PrivateTourAttended: false SocietyLectureAttended: false BankMeetingAttended: false GeologyClubAttended: false GardenPartyAttended: false AuctionAttended: false ArchiveReviewAttended: false PrivateResearchAttended: false TranslationSessionAttended: false WeekendExpeditionAttended: false LunchWithMary: false LunchWithDirector: false MarketVisited: false ApothecaryVisited: false TrainStationVisited: false GraveVisited: false TeaWithMaryAttended: false SocietyBallAttended: false VioletCrateAttended: false MikaCollectionRevealed: false VioletCrateRevealed: false MaryTeaSuccessful: false VioletArchiveSuccessful: false GardenPartyHangover: false AssistanceProvided: false DateProposed: false ExpeditionProposed: false RichardEngagment: false VioletInterest: 0 RichardRelationship: 0 MaryRelationship: 0 IntroMeetingTurns: 0 AmphoraState: 'base' TriedVibratingTheAmphoraInThePresent: false PastryCartVisible: false PastryCartPastSeen: false MarbleBustsFallen: false BronzeHelmetPastFallen: false IntroMeetingEleanorPersuasion: false IntroMeetingMaryPersuasion: false IntroMeetingVioletPersuasion: false IntroMeetingDirectorPersuasion: false OfficeIntroTurns: 0 PocketWatchOfficeHint: false PocketWatchOfficeHasBeenSeen: false ClayTabletFallen: false BusinessCardFallen: false BusinessCardPastSeen: false MagnifyingGlassScorched: false MagnifyingGlassCracked: false EyeMarkCreated: false VioletLookingGlassPersuasion: false ScarabPastSeen: false BronzeFigurinePastSeen: false DeskPastSeen: false MapPastSeen: false ExhibitDioramaTurns: 0 SweetsEaten: 0 RichardCompliment: false RichardFullDoubt: false RichardTrapped: false ApothecaryTurns: 0 ApothecaryBellRung: false LedgerChecked: false BottleLabelSwitchSeen: false OriginalLabelSeen: false ApothecaryPregnantPast: false ApothecaryScalePast: false TeaMaryTurns: 0 PastriesEaten: 0 FundingDiscussed: false BallInvitationOffered: false BallInvitationGained: false TeaMaryEleanorPersuaded: false TeaMaryMaryPersuaded: false CreamSpilled: false EleanorLustPersuaded: false MaryLustPersuaded: false QuillPaperFallen: false HandbagSpilled: false QuillPaperPowdered: false MaryPricked: false MarySickTriggered: false MaryPastryChoiceSeen: false DirectorLunchTurns: 0 DirectorFocused: false DirectorLunchEleanorPersuaded: false DirectorLunchEleanorPersuadedGluttony: false DirectorLunchDirectorPersuaded: false DirectorKnockedOut: 0 MirrorEventTurns: 0 MirrorEventFixed: false MirrorPastVisited: false MirrorGuardScared: false ArchiveReviewTurns: 0 MagnifyingGlassAligned: false ReflectiveObjectAligned: false GasLampFlareSeen: false VioletShadowAnomalySeen: false CratePastSeen: false VioletAnimusBlocked: false VioletArchiveReviewPersuaded: false VioletTeleported: false VioletCrateTurns: 0 VioletCratePathAChosen: false VioletCratePathBChosen: false VioletCrateOpened: false PryBarUsed: false TomePageViewed: 0 DrapedObjectRevealed: false MikaCrateChronos: false MikaTomeChronos: false MikaKnivesChronos: false MikaEffigyChronos: false MikaVioletAnimusAnticipation: false MikaVioletAnimusLonging: false MikaVioletAnimusAssurance: false MikaEleanorAnimusCuriosity: false MikaEleanorAnimusUnease: false MikaEleanorHungerTriggered: false GeologyClubTurns: 0 EleanorCuriosity: false DukePersuaded: false DukeGraniteUsed: false DukeMarbleUsed: false DukeObsidianUsed: false NautilusThrown: false SocietyBallTurns: 0 SocietyBallTimesReset: 0 MaryBallAnimus: '' BallCalories: 0 IndustrialistConvinced: false PatronWifeConvinced: false PianistConvinced: false EleanorSocietyBallPersuaded: false IndustrialistSocietyBallPersuaded: false PatronWifeSocietyBallPersuaded: false PianistSocietyBallPersuaded: false WeekendExpeditionTurns: 0 WeekendExpeditionResetCounter: 0 ExpeditionEnding: 'delayed' SpearsState: 'standing' AqueductState: 'intact' FrescoesState: 'pristine' OilLampsState: 'dim' MassageStonePlatformState: 'unknown_use' BarrierCleared: false BarrierAetherHelpful: false LustSpiritHelpfulActions: 0 LustSpiritOpposingActions: 0 LustSpiritCommitted: false AnimusBlocked: false CircleObjectsMoved: 0 CrateMoved: false DrapedStatueMoved: false LedgerStackMoved: false VioletFormRevealed: false VesselHideTurns: 0 VesselPushes: 0 VesselBroken: false MuseumEntranceIntroTurns: 0 MarketVisited: false VioletArchiveSuccessful: false HamperDeliveryAttended: false CharitableLuncheonAttended: false BenefactorLunchAttended: false VioletPlotStealVessel: false TotalCaloriesDebug: true DayCaloriesDebug: false SlotOneAttended: false SlotTwoAttended: false SlotThreeAttended: false MarySuccessTurns: 0 ResearchCompleted: false CataloguingTimes: false ForgottenEndingTurns: 0 PackingTurns: 0 PregnancyEndingTurns: 0 Clotofplaster: true handmirror: true Quillandpaper: true --

config.footer.center: "{link to: 'Chapter Select', label: 'Back' | [[About] | [[Settings]" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" -- [JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] [CSS] .purchase-page { text-align: center; max-width: 600px; margin: 1em auto; } .purchase-heading { font-family: 'Bona Nova', serif; font-size: 32px; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; margin-bottom: 1em; border-bottom: 1px solid currentColor; display: inline-block; } .purchase-section { margin: 1.5em 0; padding: 0.5em; background-color: rgba(0,0,0,0.1); border-radius: 5px; text-align: left; } .price-highlight { font-weight: bold; font-size: 1.1em; } .purchase-links { margin: 1em 0; } .purchase-back-link { display: block; margin-top: 1em; text-align: center; } [continue] <div class="purchase-page"> <div class="purchase-heading">Chapter 2: Demon of Hunger</div> So you've made it through Eleanor's apartment - that's nice to see. The story continues in Chapter 2, and there are a couple of ways to access it: <div class="purchase-section"> - **Just Chapter 2**: <span class="price-highlight">€7.50</span> - **Both chapters together**: <span class="price-highlight">€12.50</span> </div> Alternatively, both chapters plus *Emily's Midnight Snack* are available at a discount through: <div class="purchase-section"> - **[[My Patreon->EXTERNAL_LINK PATREON]**: <span class="price-highlight">€8.00/month</span> </div> There are other tiers and projects there too - [details here->Patreon Shilling]] if you're curious. There's also a standalone version [available here->EXTERNAL_LINK]], though it might lag behind the downloadable version on this page. If you've gotten this far, you probably have a sense of whether this kind of story appeals to you. For those who do enjoy it, I do *genuinely* appreciate the support! <div class="purchase-back-link"> {link to: 'Chapter Select', label: 'Return to Chapter Selection' </div> </div>

Bought: false CH2Standalone: true --

PocketWatchOfficeHint: true clayvesseltaken: false -- Testing testing. But holy moly it works!! {link to: 'Office', label: 'Back'}

ShelvesPastSeen: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- The ordered shelves blur, their precise arrangement dissolving into disarray. It's much darker, with only a dim candle illuminating the surrounding space, but getting close you can see crumbs of pastry scatter across the floor between document boxes, and a half-empty bottle of claret sits precariously balanced on a lower shelf. Jam stains mark the spines of several ledgers. From behind the furthest shelf, you see someone emerging in the dark - a female silhouette, pressing her fist delicately to her lips to muffle a soft *burp*. She smooths her waistcoat with both hands, the fabric stretched taut across her middle. Without looking around, she begins gathering crumb-dusted papers with methodical efficiency, her movements careful, if slightly unsteady. The mess vanishes as the vision snaps back to the present's sterile order. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MagnifyingGlassPastSeen: true VioletInterest: VioletInterest + 1 -- The lens clouds purple, and the archives dissolve around you. A basement chamber, illuminated by that same unnatural light. You see Violet standing over a black-haired woman kneeling on stone flagstones, her corpulent form straining against the remnants of what must once have been a proper dress. The fabric gaps between buttons that can no longer close, revealing the pale expanse of her overfilled belly as it aprons heavily against her thighs, and partially rests on the ground. Her breathing comes in shallow gasps - [[she's clearly had more than enough already.->Past Magnifying Glass Archive Review 2]]

Violet's gloved hand forces the woman's jaw wide anyways, her cheeks bulging as thick, dark liquid is poured from a silver chalice. The woman's throat works desperately, purple wine streaming down her multiple chins to pool in the deep valley between her breasts before soaking into the stretched fabric below. Her arms - soft, rounded, and tied behind her back - tremble as she struggles to keep it all down. *"Swallow,"* Violet commands coldly, tilting the chalice further. *"Devotion requires commitment."* The woman's muffled whimpers and the gurgles of its stomach echo off stone walls as her swollen belly visibly distends with each forced gulp. Behind them, other figures wait in line, their own chalices gleaming. The lens clears - the vision snaps shut. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

CatalogueCardsPastSeen: true -- The cards blur, their neat ink lines dissolving into a warmer, lamplight scene. Eleanor sits alone at this same table, on a different day. Her hair is shorter, loosened from its present usual, and she works with one hand while the other holds a half-eaten jam tart. Crumbs scatter across the cataloguing cards as she writes. A small paper bag beside her elbow contains more pastries - clearly more than one person should consume in an evening. She pauses to lick jam from her fingers before reaching for her pen again, leaving a sticky fingerprint on the card's corner. As she works, you catch sight of a small note tucked beneath the pastry bag. It simply states: *"For the *later* shift - V.W."* Eleanor glances at it occasionally, a flush rising in her cheeks - eventually, she opts to turn it around. *Perhaps it was not meant for her? In any case, the vision quickly fades.* {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'

[if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt1] Violet sets down her pottery shard and approaches the table, carrying the small wooden box. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt1] *"The standard cataloguing can wait, Miss Lovelace."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt1] She settles into the chair directly across from Eleanor. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt1] *"I have some items that require... particular expertise."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt1 newline] Eleanor blinks, glancing at the abandoned pottery. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt1] *"Oh. Um, of course. What sort of expertise?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt1] She straightens in her chair, hands folded. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt1] Violet opens the box without answering. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt2] Violet removes a small stone [[bowl->watching bowl Archive Review]], its interior carved with multiple eye-like depressions. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt2] *"This piece. Tell me what you observe."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt2] She places it before Eleanor, the eyes seeming to catch the gaslight. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt2 newline] Eleanor leans forward, her fingers tracing the rim without touching. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt2] *"Unusual iconography. The multiple ocular motifs suggest... perhaps astronomical observation?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt2] *"Or divination practices. Star-gazing rituals common in Mesopotamian culture."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt2] Violet's expression doesn't change. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt3] Violet produces a clay [[figurine->marked figurine Archive Review]] depicting a woman, her surface marked with what appear to be bite impressions. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt3] *"And this specimen?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt3 newline] Eleanor picks up the figurine, turning it slowly. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt3] *"Damage to the surface... tooth marks, perhaps from rodents in storage?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt3] *"The preservation is otherwise remarkable. Late Bronze Age fertility goddess, I'd estimate."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt3] She sets it down carefully. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt3] *"Poor storage conditions can be so destructive to archaeological specimens, ahah..."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRevInt3] Violet's lips press together slightly. [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt4] Violet unwraps a bronze [[mirror->hungry mirror Archive Review]] whose surface seems to shimmer with more than reflected light. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt4] *"This mirror. Look into it and tell me what you see."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt4 newline] Eleanor holds the mirror up, angling it toward the gaslight. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt4] *"Exceptional preservation of the bronze surface. The craftsmanship is quite sophisticated."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt4] She tilts it, watching the light play across its face. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt4] *"The alloy composition appears unusually pure. Likely high-status ownership."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt4] Eleanor lowers the mirror, her hands trembling slightly. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRevInt4] *"Though the lighting in here makes proper assessment difficult."* [continue] [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:archRevInt5] Violet removes the final object - a small bronze [[vessel->growth vessel Archive Review]] that seems to pulse with warmth despite the cool archive air. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt5] *"This vessel. Hold it. Tell me what you feel."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.0 id:archRevInt5 newline] Eleanor accepts the vessel, immediately drawing her hands back. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt5] *"Quite warm. Residual heat from transport, perhaps?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt5] She cradles it more carefully, her fingers whitening. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt5] *"The bronze composition appears to retain heat efficiently. Interesting metallurgical properties...?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.2 id:archRevInt5] She places it back on the table quickly. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt5] *"I... I'm not certain what specific expertise you're seeking, Miss Whitlock?"* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.2 id:archRevInt5 newline] Violet collects the objects without ceremony, her movements sharp. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.0 id:archRevInt5] *"Academic."* [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:archRevInt5] The word drops like a stone. [if ArchiveReviewTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:archRevInt5] *"Your expertise is thoroughly... academic, Miss Lovelace."* [continue]

The small stone bowl sits before Eleanor, carved from what appears to be dark basalt. Seven shallow depressions mark its interior surface, each roughly the size and shape of a human eye. The depressions catch the gaslight at odd angles, creating the illusion of depth that extends beyond the stone's actual thickness. You float closer to examine the carvings. The eye-shaped hollows seem to bulge outward from within the stone itself, as though something beneath the surface were pressing against the interior walls. Fine hairline cracks radiate from each depression's center, barely visible in the dim archive lighting. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless WatchingBowlPastSeen; inventory for ChronosAbility] [[Time seems to bend here...->Past Watching Bowl Cutscene 1]] [continue]

The clay figurine depicts a seated woman, her form carved with exaggerated proportions. Her torso displays a distinctive double belly - the upper portion rounded and full, while a second, larger curve dominates her lower abdomen. Her breasts hang heavy and pendulous, and her thighs spread wide beneath the weight of her corpulent frame. Scattered across her surface are clear human bite marks - molars and incisors pressed deep into the fired clay. The impressions are old, the edges worn smooth, suggesting repeated handling over considerable time. Some marks overlap others, creating a pattern of dental impressions that covers her arms, breasts, and the curve of her upper belly. *...who would bite clay?* {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The bronze mirror's surface gleams with exceptional clarity, unmarred by the tarnish that would typically affect such ancient metal. Eleanor's face appears with startling definition - every freckle, every line of concern around her eyes, the slight tremor of her lower lip as she examines the object. Behind her reflection, a second shape hovers in the mirror's depths. The silhouette wavers like heat distortion, its outline blurred and indistinct. It floats several inches above the archive floor. Eleanor shifts the mirror's angle - as you move, the fuzzy form moves correspondingly, maintaining its position behind her shoulder. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The bronze vessel fits comfortably in Eleanor's palms, its narrow opening sealed with what appears to be wax. The metal radiates warmth that penetrates through her gloves - you can feel it too as you hover closer. The vessel's surface shows faint stress lines around its widest point, hairline marks that suggest repeated expansion. When Eleanor shifts her grip, you catch the slightest tremor through the bronze walls - a pulse. The base bears tiny dents, as though the vessel had been set down with unusual force multiple times. A barely audible sound emanates from within - something between liquid settling and *soft breathing*. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[unless AltarClothMoved] A length of deep purple velvet lies spread across the flagstones between two rows of pottery crates. The fabric looks to be heavy, its pile worn smooth in several places from repeated handling. Dark stains mottle its surface - some appearing recent while others have set into the weave. The velvet carries the faint, fruity scent of wine. [if AltarClothMoved] The cloth bunches against a storage shelf. Pottery fragments cling to its surface. One corner shows a fresh tear, exposing lighter backing fabric beneath - you see a glimpse of silver embroidered thread. The fruity scent now mingles with dust and broken ceramic. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless AltarClothMoved; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Basement Altar Cloth Aether]] [continue]

[unless CandlestandsMoved] Three brass candlestands occupy precise positions across the flagstones, each marking a point where chalk lines intersect. The metal shows tarnish around the bases where wax has dripped and pooled repeatedly. Each candlestand holds a thick pillar candle, their surfaces carved with spiraling grooves. Their flames are dim, casting overlapping shadows that move across the chalk markings as air currents shift through the basement. The candlestands vary in height - the shortest barely clears the storage crates. Their positioning forms a triangle that surrounds you. [if CandlestandsMoved] Brass pieces lie scattered across the flagstones. The shortest candlestand rests against wooden crates, its base dented. The tallest has left a mark where it struck the stone wall. Hot wax splatters coat stone and wood surfaces, hissing where condensation touches it. The basement is much darker now. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless CandlestandsMoved; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Basement Candlestands Aether]] [continue]

[unless IncenseBurnerMoved] A large bronze vessel sits between two storage shelves, its surface green except where handling has worn the metal to a shine. Three curved legs elevate it above the flagstones. A heavy lid rests askew, revealing a cavity filled with grey ash. White residue coats the vessel's rim where something has boiled over repeatedly. A thick, resinous smell rises from the ash - it reminds you of burned butter. [if IncenseBurnerMoved] The bronze vessel rests against a wooden crate marked "MESOPOTAMIAN FRAGMENTS - DO NOT DISTURB." Its side shows a fresh dent where it met the wood. One leg has bent slightly inward. Ash spills from the cavity in grey streams, coating the nearby flagstones. [continue] {link to: 'Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama', label: 'Back'} [unless IncenseBurnerMoved; inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Violet Basement Incense Burner Aether]] [continue]

AltarClothMoved: true CircleObjectsMoved: CircleObjectsMoved + 1 -- You direct force into the heavy velvet. The fabric snaps upward like a whip crack, hanging suspended for a heartbeat before you fling it aside. It strikes a storage crate with surprising violence. The impact sends pottery shards cascading from an unsealed box, their fragments ringing against the flagstones. The velvet bunches against shelving, exposing the chalk markings beneath in their entirety. *The ease of it startles you. No strain. No effort.* [if CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[As the final object settles, you sense a change in the room...->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 1]] [unless CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[Back->Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama]] [continue]

CandlestandsMoved: true CircleObjectsMoved: CircleObjectsMoved + 1 -- You push into all three candlestands simultaneously. They launch from their positions like projectiles, trailing arcs of molten wax. The shortest slams into wooden crates with enough force to split a board. The tallest strikes the stone wall, its brass base clanging against pipe joints. Candles scatter across the flagstones, their carved spirals rolling between storage boxes. Hot wax splatters against stone and wood, hissing where it meets condensation. The surrounding space is now much darker than before. [if CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[As the final object settles, you sense a change in the room...->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 1]] [unless CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[Back->Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama]] [continue]

IncenseBurnerMoved: true CircleObjectsMoved: CircleObjectsMoved + 1 -- You seize the bronze vessel with more force than necessary. It rises from the flagstones, ash spilling from its cavity in grey streams. The three legs scrape against stone as you spin it through the air, testing this newfound strength. Without ceremony, you hurl it toward the storage crates. The impact thunders through the basement. Wood splinters. The vessel's lid flies free, clattering against the pipe joints overhead. A crate splits along its seams, spilling pottery shards across the floor. [if CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[As the final object settles, you sense a change in the room...->Violet Basement Reveal Cutscene 1]] [unless CircleObjectsMoved >= 3] [[Back->Violet Basement Puzzle Diorama]] [continue]

Days blur together as the awareness that sustained you begins to ebb. Each day Eleanor returns to her routine with diminished energy, you find your own essence growing correspondingly thin. Her appetite, never fully awakened under your influence, [[dwindles further still.->Forgotten Ending 2]]

config.header.right: " " -- The telegram arrives on a grey Tuesday morning, delivered by a boy whose boots echo against the museum's limestone steps. Eleanor reads the message twice at her desk, the thin paper trembling slightly between her fingers. The Brittany Archaeological Society expresses their regret regarding [[insufficient funding for the proposed expedition->Museum Employment 1.5]].

She sets the telegram down with careful precision, aligning its edges with the blotter's border. For seventeen minutes, you observe her sitting motionless, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the geological specimens arranged on her windowsill. Her breathing remains steady, controlled, but her fingers worry at the fabric of her skirt - a small, repetitive motion that continues even after she apparently notices it and forces her hands still. When she finally rises to file the telegram away, her movements carry a particular kind of deliberateness that suggests significant effort behind each action. The drawer slides shut with a soft click. She arranges her papers into neat stacks, though they were already organized. The small, domestic rituals of order. [if WeightGained == 'NONE'] [[From that moment, your connection to the world begins to fray.->Forgotten Ending 1]] [if WeightGained == 'CHUBBY'] [[From that moment, your connection to the world begins to fray.->Forgotten Ending 1]] [if WeightGained == 'PLUMP'] [[From that moment, your connection to the world begins to fray.->Forgotten Ending 1]] [if WeightGained == 'FAT'] [[Time moves differently when your dreams are shattered.->Museum Employment Ending 2]] [if WeightGained == 'OBESE'] [[Time moves differently when your dreams are shattered.->Museum Employment Ending 2]] [continue]

Three weeks pass. Eleanor's lunch hour extends first to seventy minutes, then ninety. She discovers a bakery two streets east of the museum where the proprietress recognizes her by the fourth visit, setting aside an extra currant scone without being asked. Eleanor purchases it along with her usual meat pie, consuming both while standing at the counter rather than returning immediately to her desk. The ritual develops its own logic. Tuesday brings chelsea buns glazed thick with sugar. Thursday yields apple turnovers, their pastry flaking between her fingers as she walks the corridor back to her office. The crumbs scatter across the catalog cards, requiring careful brushing away before filing. [[Her waistcoat begins to pull differently across her middle by month's end.->Museum Employment Ending 2.5]]

She adjusts the watch chain's positioning twice, then abandons it entirely, letting the timepiece rest in her jacket pocket instead. The fabric shows stress lines where it curves around her softening waist, tiny creases that deepen each week. You observe her discover cream tea at Pemberton's on a rainy Thursday. The scones arrive warm, accompanied by clotted cream so thick it requires substantial effort to spread. Eleanor consumes three, methodically coating each bite before lifting it to her mouth. Her tongue catches the cream that threatens to escape the corners of her lips. [[Winter arrives with its own appetites.->Museum Employment Ending 3]]

The museum's trustees visit on a Thursday in late February. By that point, you know that Eleanor does not bother with corsets anymore, and requires assistance with the third button of her waistcoat. She performs this task while in her office, her reflection showing the gap that appears when she attempts to fasten the garment completely. The button eventually slips between her fingers twice before she abandons the effort, leaving the waistcoat to hang open across her swollen belly. Eleanor greets them in the main gallery, her hands clasped behind her back to minimize the strain across her blouse. Director Hartwell introduces her as "our most promising young researcher," his gaze resting briefly on the soft curve where her skirt draws tight across her hips. The board chairwoman examines Eleanor's display of Roman pottery with apparent interest. "Such detailed cataloguing, Miss Lovelace. Your systematic approach is quite impressive." She pauses beside a particularly large amphora, running her gloved finger along its rim. "Tell me, have you considered a more... substantial role in our institutional development?" [[Eleanor's breath catches slightly.->Museum Employment Ending 4]]

The offer arrives two weeks later - Senior Curator of Classical Antiquities, with a salary increase of sixty percent. *** [if SocietyBallAttended; if MaryBallAnimus == 'SYMPATHY'] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Route'} [if SocietyBallAttended; unless MaryBallAnimus == 'SYMPATHY'] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route'} [if WeekendExpeditionAttended; if ExpeditionEnding == 'romantic/freed'] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route'} [if WeekendExpeditionAttended; if ExpeditionEnding == 'intercourse'] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route'} [unless SocietyBallAttended; unless WeekendExpeditionAttended] {embed passage: 'Museum Employment Neither Route'} [continue]

The generous bodice of her burgundy dress strains across her torso, the fabric pulled taut over the massive curve of her belly. It presses against the table's edge as she leans forward for the wine glass. There's a soft grunt from her throat - not discomfort, but the necessary sound of substantial flesh rearranging itself. She drains the glass in three long swallows, the liquid leaving traces across her lower lip. The chocolate box empties, following to the floor soon after - its crumbs are now the work of the weekly cleaning maid. Eleanor's hands can't be bother to reach for it: instead, they rest against the rounded mass of her stomach, feeling its taut fullness through the wool. Her breathing has grown shallow, each inhalation working against the overwhealming pressure inside. [[The gaslight flickers as she begins to unfasten her dress.->Museum Employment Neither Route 3]]

The fabric pools around Eleanor's ankles as the dress falls, revealing her chemise clinging to the massive curves beneath, the cotton stretched transparent across her belly's spherical mass. The fabric disappears into the deep fold where her stomach meets her pelvis, emerging again over the substantial width of her thighs. She reaches behind herself to unfasten the chemise, her thick arms struggling to navigate around the rolls that cascade down her back: three distinct folds of flesh stack above her waist, each one marked by the deep impressions left by her dress's seams. Her movements require multiple attempts, her breathing growing labored with the effort. The chemise slides free, finally letting it all out: her belly hangs as a perfect globe, its surface smooth and taut, drooping well past her waist to rest against her substantial thighs; her breasts spread wide across her chest, their weight settling into the soft valley between them; her backside extends in two massive hemispheres, each cheek marked with dimpled flesh that trembles with her [[movements->Museum Employment Neither Route 4]]

A deep belch escapes her throat as she bends forward toward the silk robe pooled on the floor beside the chair. The sound reverberates through her expanded torso, followed by a second, quieter release of gas. Her fingertips brush the fabric before her belly presses against her thighs, preventing further descent. She scoffs as she slowly straightens, leaving the robe where it lies. Her hands press against the sides of her stomach, feeling the drum-tight surface beneath her palms. The spherical mass sits heavy, distended, each breath pushing against its limits. A third belch builds in her throat, longer and more resonant than the previous two, leading into a pained moan. And yet, her tongue runs across her lips, collecting traces of chocolate and wine. [[The bed creaks under her approach.->Museum Employment Neither Route 5]]

She lies on her back, her belly rising like from her torso, its surface catching the gaslight that filters through the bedroom doorway. The spherical mass spreads wide across her ribs, its weight pinning her down into the mattress. Her right hand slides across the taut surface of it, fingers tracing the curve. The motion continues downward, following the slope of flesh toward her pelvis, but... her arm proves insufficient. The bulk of her belly prevents her fingertips from reaching their intended destination, her wrist bending awkwardly against the drum-tight surface. She shifts her position, rolling slightly to one side, her massive frame causing the bed to creak in protest. Her left hand attempts the same journey, sliding along the warm expanse of skin, but meets the same obstacle. Through the year, this new flat has not entertained many visitors. Nor romantic partners. Unfortunately, [[there is no-one around to help->Museum Employment Neither Route 6]].

Her hands settle instead against the sides of her belly, palms flat against the stretched skin. Her eyelids flutter, the weight of wine and exhaustion settling over her features. As you begin to fade away for the night, you watch the gaslight dimming as her breathing deepens, each inhalation lifting the massive dome of her stomach before releasing it back toward the mattress. Her fingers go slack against her skin. The room falls silent except for the steady rhythm of her breath, the gurgles of her stomach, and the occasional creak of the bedsprings. [[That is the last thing you see before, once again, fading away.->Museum Employment Neither Route Ending]]

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Eleanor's flat in June holds the evidence of her new circumstances. So do the remnants of her latest evening meal: empty shells from two dozen oysters, their silver spoons still sticky with mignonette. A wheel of brie sits half-consumed, its rind curling away from the pale interior. Three wine bottles stand in various stages of depletion, their corks scattered across the mahogany surface. She waddles from table to sideboard, her belly brushing against the chair backs despite her best attempts to avoid it. The floorboards creak under her weight as she retrieves the chocolate box from Harrods - Belgian truffles arranged in neat rows, their dark surfaces gleaming under the gaslight. Her fingers select one, then another, the ganache [[yielding between her teeth with each bite.->Museum Employment Neither Route 2]]

And through it all, there had been Mary. Her belongings appeared in Eleanor's flat within a week from the end of the ball. Her gloves rested on the hall table, her spare chemises filled the bottom drawer of Eleanor's wardrobe. Mary's fingers traced the expanding circumference of Eleanor's waist while Eleanor catalogued Roman pottery, their work interrupted by Mary's eager hands sliding beneath [[layers of wool and cotton->Museum Employment Mary Success Route 2]].

You can only assume that what had happened during that ball eventually gets to her. That utter humiliation. Confused, you watch Eleanor's lunch hour contracting back to thirty minutes, then twenty. The bakery proprietress inquires twice about her absence before removing the reserved currant scone from the display case. Eleanor's midday meal becomes a single piece of toast consumed at her desk, [[crumbs brushed away before they can accumulate.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route 1.5]]

And through it all, there had been Richard. Richard's visits to Eleanor's office tripled within days of their return. He brought specimens from his personal collection - a scarab beetle pressed in amber, pottery shards wrapped in tissue paper, maps of excavation sites marked with his careful annotations. His excuses grew increasingly transparent, [[then disappeared entirely->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 2]].

And for some of it, there had been Richard. Clearly, the underground chamber had awakened something between them. Eleanor's office door began locking during his afternoon visits, and her desk cleared of papers, pottery shards pushed aside to make space for her hips as Richard pressed her against the polished wood. Her skirts bunched around her waist, chemise pulled down just enough to reveal her breasts. Richard's hands would grip her thighs, spreading them wider as he moved between them. Eleanor's breathing came in sharp gasps, her fingers clawing at the desk's edge while her substantial weight rocked against the mahogany surface. The archaeological specimens scattered to the floor - tablets cracking against stone, [[reference books tumbling from their careful stacks.->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 2]]

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[unless CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'SlotThree Events (Unless Thursday)'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] As Eleanor is heading out for the day, Mary quite literally stumbles into her. Both fall to the floor. As Mary gets up and apologizes, she is clearly nervous about something. She then admits to Eleanor she might've messed up, and asks her to help her out in her usual demenour. As Eleanor asks what she's done, Mary just leads her into a very well lit {plainlink to: 'Ancient Mirror Cutscene 1', label: 'storage room'}. [note] These notes are for the diorama afterwards: basically, Mary was making her way through some artefacts on the shelves, making sure everything was still in its place (apparently 5 artefacts have disappeared, but this is not important). Eventually, she had moved to the opposite side of the room, and noticed that a very old artefact, a very large, very old silver mirror, was not covered by its linen sheet anymore. To make matters worse, the reflective surface has been cracked. The player has to get back to the past by using the Chronos ability, and scare off the nightguard (the same from the helmet) and her date (he wanted to impress her, they end up breaking the mirror by accident). As the player returns to the present, they get into a cutscene where the mirror basically repairs itself back to normal. Eleanor and Mary watch this happen in real time, which is obviously very surprising for the both of them. Mary tells Eleanor that the problem fixed itself in the end with her usual, if not concerned smile. The player and Eleanor turn around to watch her, where they see Mary get white as a ghost as she continues to watch the mirror, and then faint. Eleanor and the player turn towards the mirror once more, and, for the first time, the player is reflected and visible. I've got to figure it out from there, probably a series of cutscenes? We can work on this first. Perhaps the player is given the ability to trace something on the mirror? A symbol from the ones Eleanor is studying? [continue]

Week by week, Mary brought delicacies from Fortnum & Mason - crystallized ginger, imported marmalades, wheels of camembert that just so happened to require immediate consumption. Mary's cook delivered elaborate meals twice weekly, and Eleanor was more than eager to go over them while she watched, her fingers resting against her freed belly between courses, prodding her body - the soft roll developing beneath her chin, the way her breasts settled more heavily each month... Eleanor's breath grew shorter during these examinations, though whether from the way Mary's chest pressed acrossed hers or the physical effort of going through so much meat remained unclear. [[It was only a matter of time between the both of them moved in together.->Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama]]

MarySuccessTurns: MarySuccessTurns + 1 -- [if MarySuccessTurns < 4] You hover within the couple's new sitting room. Your [[vessel->vessel Mary Success]] rests on the mahogany table beside an empty [[cream pitcher->cream pitcher Mary Success]], several [[periodicals->periodicals Mary Success]], and a [[silver serving tray->serving tray Mary Success]]. Against the far wall, an overstuffed [[settee->settee Mary Success]] faces the room's center. Upon it, [[Eleanor->Eleanor Mary Success]] sits in burgundy silk, her form settled deep into the cushions. A small [[side table->side table Mary Success]] stands within her reach, while tall [[windows->windows Mary Success]] line the wall beyond it, their lace curtains filtering afternoon light. [if MarySuccessTurns >= 4] [[Mary->Museum Employment Mary Success Route 3]] stands beside the settee, flour dusting her apron. She holds a plate of chocolate éclairs, their surfaces thick with ganache. [continue] To your left, an archway opens into the [[dining room->dining room Mary Success]]. To your right, a [[hallway->hallway Mary Success]] extends toward the mansion's other rooms. [if MarySuccessTurns == 1] *The distant sound of mixing bowls and wooden spoons drifts from the kitchen, accompanied by the occasional clatter of baking tins.* [if MarySuccessTurns == 2] *Something falls in the kitchen with a muffled thud, followed by what sounds like Mary's flustered voice muttering a quite curse.* [if MarySuccessTurns == 3] *The sweet aroma of chocolate and pastry grows stronger, carried by warm air - the oven doors have just been opened.*

The vessel: A small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a fattened woman. It's currently resting atop a crocheted doily. Not a great looking one: pale yellow threads worked in an uneven pattern, the stitches tight in some places, loose in others. Getting closer to it, you can still hear a low hum coming from it and feel a subtle warmth. You've been feeling a stronger pull as of late, and are only able to exit from it on certain occasions - *somebody else is taking care of Eleanor's hunger, now.* {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The porcelain cream pitcher sits haphasardly beside the sugar bowl, its delicate handle turned outward for easy access. Thick cream clings to its interior walls in pale streaks, while a faint ring marks the mahogany table where it rested during this morning's extended breakfast, when you heard Mary insisting Eleanor try the new Belgian chocolate she'd acquired from Harrods. Mary's fingerprints remain visible on the handle's curve - she never remembers to wear gloves while serving, despite her upbringing's insistence on propriety. The cream itself is French, imported at considerable expense - you remember Mary discovering Eleanor's preference for it during their third week together, when Eleanor mentioned how the local dairy's offering seemed thin by comparison. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Three academic journals rest in a neat stack, their spines aligned with careful precision. The topmost copy of "The Journal of Classical Antiquities" lies open to page forty-seven, where an article bears both their names: "E. Lovelace and M. Ashworth - Comparative Analysis of Late Roman Pottery Glazing Techniques." The margins show Eleanor's precise handwriting alongside Mary's looser script - arrows connecting their respective notes, question marks, underlined passages. A subscription card protrudes from "The Quarterly Review of Archaeological Methods," Mary's signature visible in red ink. The third journal, "Modern Curatorial Practices," contains a dog-eared page featuring Eleanor's photograph beside a brief mention of her promotion a couple months back. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The silver tray bears water spots in perfect circles where wine glasses recently rested. A few breadcrumbs remain scattered across one corner, alongside a single dark hair - honey-blonde, curling at the end. Beneath the tray, a piece of correspondence from the Archaeological Society peeks out, the letterhead visible. The paper shows creases where it was folded hastily, and a small wine stain marks the upper corner. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Though she's currently sitting on it, you know that the settee's burgundy velvet bears the permanent impression of Eleanor - a deep oval in the center cushion where she settles each evening, flanked by a smaller depression where Mary curls against her side. The armrest shows wear marks where Eleanor's wrist rests during her evening correspondence. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor settles deep into the settee's embrace, her burgundy silk dress straining across her considerable frame. The fabric pulls taut over her belly's spherical shape, the empire waistline now sitting well above her actual middle, and also under her considerable chest. Her honey-blonde hair falls loose around her shoulders, freed from its pins. Crumbs from the morning's pastries dust the front of her dress, scattered across the burgundy silk. Her breathing is shallow and deliberate - it's clear she's still feeling quite full. *Understandable, given Mary's attentions.* {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

A small brass bell sits within Eleanor's reach, its surface tarnished from daily use. A bit of an excessive accessory, given that neither the maids nor Mary are never too far anyways, but Eleanor likes using it anyways. Mary's personal bottle of lavender water rests against the table's edge, its cork loose and the glass slightly sticky from Eleanor's fingers. The level has dropped considerably - you've felt Mary applying it to Eleanor's temples each evening when the day's summer heat leave her flushed and heavy-lidded. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You attempt to drift toward the dining room, but find your essence growing thin, unstable. Bothersome. The comfortable warmth of the sitting room seems to pull at you, and with Mary tending so carefully to Eleanor's needs, there really is no need for you to overextend yourself. Everything is being taken care for. Your form wavers, drawn back to the familiar comfort of your now warm vessel. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You attempt to drift toward the long hallway of their new flat, but find your essence growing thin, unstable. Bothersome. The comfortable warmth of the sitting room seems to pull at you, and with Mary tending so carefully to Eleanor's needs, there really is no need for you to overextend yourself. Everything is being taken care for. Your form wavers, drawn back to the familiar comfort of your now warm vessel. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The tall windows stretch from floor to ceiling, their panes streaked with morning condensation. Lace curtains hang in careful folds, their patterns casting delicate shadows across the Persian rug. The fabric shows recent adjustment - gathered and tied with silk ribbons to control the afternoon light that would otherwise make the room uncomfortably warm. {link to: 'Museum Employment Mary Success Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Mary emerges from the kitchen doorway, flour dusting her burgundy apron and a dark smudge across her left cheek. She carries a silver plate before her, a number of what look to be... almost chocolate éclairs, arranged upon it at various angles. Their surfaces show fingerprint impressions in the soft pastry - ganache pools in uneven puddles around some of the pastries while others remain bare. *"Ellie! They are ready! Now,"* Mary says, settling beside Eleanor on the settee, *"I may have been a touch... ambitious with the chocolate. And the butter. And all other ingredients..."* The plate clinks against the side table. One éclair slides toward the edge. Eleanor examines the contents without comment. She reaches for the most intact specimen. *"Yes, well, um... they look made with... love?"* *"That's a very kind way of saying 'disastrous,' darling."* Mary brushes flour from her hands. *"I swear the recipe in Mrs. Beeton's makes it sound frightfully simple, but the moment I tried to pipe the cream..."* [[Eleanor lifts the éclair to her mouth.->Museum Employment Mary Success Route 4]]

The pastry shell crunches between her teeth. She chews slowly, her jaw working against the dense chocolate filling. Her tongue moves briefly across her molars before she swallows. *"Well?"* Mary leans forward, hands clasped in her lap. *"It's not bad, Mary, just... dense. Very chocolatey."* Eleanor sets the remainder aside, but as she sees Mary's expression, she immediately reaches for her hands. *"B-but! Clearly made by someone who cares a great deal about the result."* Mary's shoulders drop slightly. *"Oh, Eleanor, you're terrible at lying. Just look at them! I know they're awful. [[Mrs. Pemberton's cook would be utterly scandalized!-> Museum Employment Mary Success Route 4.5]]"*

Eleanor lifts Mary's hand, pressing her lips against the knuckles. *"Mrs. Pemberton's cook didn't make them for me, did she?"* A faint smudge of chocolate transfers from Eleanor's mouth to Mary's skin. *"And Mrs. Pemberton's cook doesn't look quite so charming with flour in her hair."* Mary's free hand moves toward her disheveled hair, but Eleanor catches her wrist [[*"Leave it,"* she murmurs.->Museum Employment Mary Success Route 5]]

With a soft giggle, Eleanor draws Mary closer until their faces align. Mary's breath catches as Eleanor's lips meet hers, the taste of chocolate lingering between them. Mary's hand finds the soft curve of Eleanor's throat, fingers tracing the warmth beneath the silk. Eleanor's mouth moves against Mary's with slow precision. Her hands settle against Mary's waist, pulling her deeper into the settee's cushions. The silver plate clinks softly as Mary's knee brushes against the side table, forgotten éclairs sliding across the surface. [[That is the last thing you see before, once again, fading away.->Museum Employment Mary Success Route Ending]]

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She requests reassignment to the archive basement three weeks after the promotion offer. Eleanor's new workspace comes to occupy a corner near the manuscript storage, accessible through a service staircase that bypasses the main galleries entirely. Her waistcoat loosens by November. By winter, the garment hangs loose across her diminishing frame, requiring adjustment of the watch chain to prevent slippage. She purchases new skirts - two sizes smaller than her previous wardrobe, their fabric gathering at the waist where her previous bulk had filled the space. Eleanor arrives before the other staff and departs after the building empties. Her desk lamp burns past closing hours, illuminating neat stacks of acquisition cards and reference materials. [[You both grow weaker and weaker.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route 2]]

One day, each garment emerges systematically - skirts folded along their seams, blouses wrapped in tissue paper, undergarments layered between protective cloth. Her movements carry no urgency, no hesitation between selections - every piece of clothing disappears into organized compartments. The books follow. Archaeological journals stack in precise rows within wooden crates, their spines aligned with mechanical precision. Reference texts, personal correspondence, research notes - all categorized and secured with twine. Pens, ink bottles, sealing wax, letter opener - each implement wrapped separately and labeled in Eleanor's careful script. The blotter reveals its accumulated stains once the writing materials vanish. A train schedule lies folded beside the empty inkwell, marked with tomorrow's departure time. You try to push it away, to hide it under the bed, but [[by this point, you're much too weaker for that.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route 2.5]]

The flat grows hollow. The furniture remains, but all traces of Eleanor disappear. The mantelpiece clock continues its steady ticking while the final crate is secured. She pauses beside the sitting room table where your vessel rests among the abandoned periodicals and cold tea service. Her hand reaches toward its surface... [[then stops.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route 3]]

*"Not so lucky after all, were you?"* She withdraws without contact, gathering her traveling coat from the chair. The door closes behind her with a soft click. The lock turns once. [[Silence settles across the empty rooms.->Museum Employment Mary Humiliation Route Ending]]

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CataloguingTimes: CataloguingTimes + 1 -- The storage room smells of dust and old wood. There's plenty of window across rows of wooden crates and shelving units - enough for it to be more than enough light for a curator. Eleanor sets her clipboard on a scarred workbench and examines the first item requiring documentation: a simple, boring pottery fragment wrapped in brown paper. She records its dimensions and condition on the inventory form. She does the same again, and again, and again; unwrap, examine, measure, record, rewrap. The waistband of her skirt presses against her as she leans forward to inspect smaller artifacts, the fabric pulling taut when she reaches for items on higher shelves. Each movement requires her to adjust her position, her breath coming slightly shorter with the repeated [[stretching and bending->Museum Inventory Cutscene 2]].

CataloguingTimes: CataloguingTimes + 1 -- Eleanor moves directly to the third shelf without consulting her notes, reaching for the wooden box she spotted yesterday. Inside, several Roman coins nestle in tissue paper alongside a collection of medieval pottery shards. She lifts the first coin with steady fingers, turning it toward the window light to examine the worn inscription before recording its details. Her pen moves across the inventory form without pause between entries. She handles each fragment with the same measured care, wrapping and unwrapping with efficient motions that waste no movement. The storage room door creaks as footsteps approach in the corridor outside. Eleanor glances toward the sound, coin balanced between her thumb and forefinger. The footsteps slow, then [[stop just outside the door->Museum Inventory Director Recognition]].

SlotOneAttended: true -- Eleanor sets down her pen and flexes her fingers, the final inventory sheet adding to a satisfying stack of completed forms. The shelves around her now bear neat labels in her careful handwriting, each artifact properly documented for the museum's records. She straightens slowly, pressing one hand to the small of her back where the repeated bending has left a dull ache. The morning's work shows in the faint sheen of perspiration at her temples and the way her blouse clings slightly to her shoulders. She gathers her clipboard and pen, pausing only to ensure the storage room door latches properly behind her as she returns to the main corridors. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

SlotOneAttended: true ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- The Director's grey head appears in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the organized shelves before settling on Eleanor's stack of completed forms. She straightens, the coin still pinched between her fingers. "Miss Lovelace." He steps into the room, picking up one of the forms and scanning the neat entries. "Getting through the backlog, I see. Good work." Eleanor sets the coin carefully in its tissue paper. "The collection required proper documentation, sir." "Indeed it did. Right, well," He drops the form back onto the stack. "Board's approved a pay increase this quarter. Extra pound for staff showing initiative." His eyes move from the labeled shelves back to Eleanor. "Use it toward that research of yours if you see fit." The Director turns on his heel and strides toward the corridor. Eleanor's grip tightens on her pen as his footsteps fade down the hallway. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

A slender hairpin lies balanced on the spine of "Archaeological Methods in Northern France," its silver wire bent into an elegant curve. A single white pearl sits at its head, smooth and heavy, with a faint pink blush that shifts as the gaslight flickers. Three dark curls remain wound around the pin's shaft, their color a rich brown that contrasts sharply with any hair you've observed on Eleanor. The silver shows a small dent near the clasp, and a tiny smear of red clings to the pearl's surface. {link to: 'bookshelves', label: 'Back'}

A polished brass paperweight sits tucked behind a stack of auction catalogues - you recognize the museum's official seal embossed across its face. The paperweight's position seems carefully chosen - visible only to someone reaching for the catalogues behind which it hides, yet immediately accessible from Eleanor's usual working position at the desk. It looks exactly like the one you saw in the director's office. Mm. {link to: 'bookshelves', label: 'Back'}

A small glass bottle, no larger than Eleanor's thumb, sits wedged between a volume on Roman pottery and a field guide to British excavations. Its surface is clear crystal with delicate etching around the neck, though several fingerprint smudges cloud the lower portion. The cork stopper, barely the size of a pearl, sits slightly askew - recently handled, evidently. A faint but persistent scent emanates from the bottle's mouth, warm and floral with deeper undertones. The liquid inside appears deep red, nearly burgundy, coating the glass walls in thin rivulets when tilted. Only about half remains. {link to: 'bookshelves', label: 'Back'}

Intro2: true CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' SlotOneEvent: 'INTRO MEETING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' -- <div class="day-heading">MONDAY</div> You watch her sink into an expensive looking chair whose stuffing protests beneath her. From the timeline drafted on her calendar, [[there's still a little time before she has to start working.->Office]]

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Eleanor's afternoons came to revolve around these "consultations". She prepared tea service twenty minutes before his expected arrival, arranging biscuits on the good china. Richard consumed them methodically while explaining excavation techniques, his attention shifting between the pottery examples and the way Eleanor's tongue caught crumbs from the corner of her mouth. By October, his jacket hung on the back of her office chair. By November, his boxers too. Eleanor's waist had pressed against the desk edge when she leaned forward to examine his sketches, her blouse pulling across her chest as she had pointed out specific details - Richard's eyes had followed the movement of fabric over flesh. [[His explanations had then trailed off mid-sentence.->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 3]]

You observe them now in Richard's sitting room, eighteen months later. Eleanor settles into her steel-framed armchair, the springs creaking beneath her weight. Her silk house robe drapes across her body in blue waves - the fabric pools around her thighs where they spread against the chair's width, while the sash disappears beneath the rounded mass of her belly. Her breasts rest heavily within the loose silk, their weight creating deep valleys where the robe falls between them. Richard pours wine into cut crystal glasses and Eleanor goes to accepts hers. When she leans forward to reach the side table, the robe gapes slightly, revealing the pale curve where her neck meets the soft roll of her shoulders. "*Darling, I believe I've found something rather perfect,*" Eleanor says, settling back with a satisfied sigh. "*A flat on Grosvenor Square. Three bedrooms - one for your Egyptian pieces, another for my Roman collection. The dining room seats eight, though I thought we might use the table for [[displaying artifacts->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 4]] rather than entertaining.*"

Richard pauses in collecting the scattered correspondence from the hall table, a particular envelope catching his attention. You drift closer, observing the heavy cream paper bearing an official seal that you can't quite make out in the dim light. "*Ah, yes, well... Grosvenor Square.*" Richard pushes his spectacles up his nose absently. "*Rather grand, isn't it? Though I suppose, er, using the dining table for specimens... yes, that's actually quite sensible. Better lighting than most storage rooms.*" "*The kitchen is generous enough for proper cooking,*" Eleanor continues, "*and the agent mentioned something about structural reinforcements throughout.*" Her voice falters slightly. "*Though I do hope... I mean, surely they meant for [[heavy furniture and collections->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 5]], not...*"

She unties her robe's sash, letting the silk fall open to reveal the full expanse of her belly - a pale, smooth dome that curves from beneath her breasts down to rest against her thighs, drooping below them. Her fingers trace its surface uncertainly. "*Mm? Oh! Well, yes, of course they meant for furniture love.*" Richard's eyes move deliberately over her form as she struggles to get up, lingering on the colossal curves of her ass. "*Sarcophagi, statues... shelves. All manner of shelves. We certainly have some, um... weighty ones around.*" Eleanor's face flushes pink, her lips curving into a pleased smile. She pulls the robe loosely around herself, leaving it unfastened as she lowers her glass, picks up a watering can, and begins to water some of the flat's plants. "*The morning light is particularly lovely in the master bedroom. Large windows facing east. I thought you'd appreciate having [[proper illumination->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 6]] for your translation work.*"

Richard moves from the entryway towards the cold fireplace, his hand still holding the envelope. You drift closer to the correspondence in his grip. Through the translucent paper, some text fragments become visible: <blockquote> "...cordial invitation to join our expedition team..." "...departure scheduled for November..." "...unparalleled opportunity to examine newly discovered tombs..." </blockquote> The letterhead reads "Cairo Institute of Archaeological Studies." [[His fingers tighten on the envelope.->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route 7]]

He stares at it for a moment, then tears the letter precisely in half. Then quarters. Then eighths. The sound of ripping paper cuts sharply through the room, prompting Eleanor to turn around. The fragments are swiftly thrown onto the ashes before she manages to complete the motion. "*Well then. Why don't you tell me more about [[this perfect flat of ours?->Museum Employment Richard Romantic Route Ending]]*" he says, his voice steady.

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It's a pocket watch with a polished brass casing, intricately crafted and etched with an elegant floral motif. A delicate chain, slightly tarnished, dangles from Eleanor's jacket, swaying faintly as she walks through the Museum hall. The latch clicks softly as you will it open without its owner noticing, revealing a pair of delicate hands on top of a porcelain dial. The rhythmic ticking grows [[louder->CH.2 Intro Skip]] as you draw nearer - your presence is making the hands themselves tremble. {link to: 'Museum Entrance', label: 'Back'} [inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a resonating hum...->Intro Meeting Cutscene]] [continue]

The watch hands spin faster, blurring into one. The world seems to pause, suspended between moments. You sense you could either push Eleanor forward, [[just past of the morning's duties ->CH.2 Intro Skip Execute]] - with the feeling you may not be able to return here afterward - or, instead, [[let events unfold naturally->Intro pocket watch/CH.2 Intro Skip]]. {ascii backdrop: 'chronos'}

MatterAbility: true TimeAbility: true PersuasionAbility: true correctartefact: 3 arrowheadstaken: true clayvesseltaken: true SkullTaken: true CurrentDay: 'MONDAY' NextDay: 'MONDAY' SlotOneEvent: 'INTRO MEETING' SlotTwoEvent: 'CAFE' SlotThreeEvent: 'ICECREAM' Intro2: true PocketWatchOfficeHint: true OfficeIntroTurns: 8 IntroMeetingAttended: true SlotOneAttended: true AmphoraState: 'drunk' DayCalories: DayCalories + 4 -- The hall blurs. Voices echo and fade. Eleanor's heels click faster across the marble, then silence. When the world sharpens again, you find yourself in familiar surroundings - the morning's gathering already a memory, its artifacts sorted, its conflicts, for better or worse, [[resolved->Office]].

... [[You'll make sure Eleanor does the same.->Chapter 2 All Mine Ending 2]]

config.header.left: "~ ~ ✥ ◇ ✥ ~ ~" -- <div class="day-heading">2 YEARS LATER</div> You drift through the familiar walls of Eleanor's flat with practiced ease. The afternoon light slants through its spotless windows, their glass gleaming without streaks or smudges. The hardwood floors below shine with fresh polish, every surface dusted to perfection. Your vessel rests on the hall table below, but you feel no pull toward it. [[No weakness.->All Mine Ending 3]]

Richard was not seen leaving the Egyptian wing. Mary's social circles have gone restless with gossip after the discovery of her body. The same has not yet happened for Markus: the Director's office remains locked, his secretary claiming illness. By now, Violet has probably been dusted off the archive's pavement. Isn't it lovely? *So, so much less to distract your Eleanor.* She pauses at the door to her flat, her breath visible in the cooling air. The statuette grows warm inside her workbag. [[You follow her inside.->Day End cutscene 2]]

[JavaScript] engine.state.set("last_ingame_passage",get_last_ingame_passage()); [continue] You reach toward Eleanor's consciousness, but your essence feels thin, stretched. Her thoughts rush at you in fragments - disjointed, overwhelming. *Red dress... tight corset... [[shut up->Rage Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]] already!... cutting in... those [[pastries->Gluttony Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]] look delicious... mother would [[disapprove->Doubt Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]] of... of... must be [[proper->Poise Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]]... composed... there's a scent... [[sweeter->Curiosity Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]] than usual... someone to [[understand->Longing Eleanor Past terrace cutscene]]... her uncle's position... funding...* *So many threads...* perhaps you could bring attention to some instead of others. {link to: 'Eleanor Past Terrace', label: 'Back'}

MaryFailureAnimus: MaryFailureAnimus + 1 -- [if MaryFailureAnimus == 1] Something draws you toward Mary's seated form - an invisible thread tugging at your essence. You drift closer, your consciousness reaching tentatively for her mind... [[But something's not right.->Mary Control Failure]] [unless MaryFailureAnimus == 1] As your essence approaches her consciousness, you encounter something unexpected. Not resistance - simply *nothing*. Her thoughts slip away like water through your fingers, too quick, too fluid for your weak grasp to hold. Laughter, chatter... - you catch only fleeting impressions before they scatter. You are not strong enough to get a hold of things here. *Not yet.* {link to: 'Mary', label: 'Back'}

SlotThreeAttended: true -- Willoughby's interior welcomes with warm mahogany paneling and small round tables dressed in white linen. Gas sconces cast amber light across the room, their glow reflecting off polished brass fittings. A glass display case near the counter holds an array of cakes and pastries, while the air carries the mingled scents of Ceylon tea and fresh ginger. Eleanor approaches the counter, where a woman in a starched white apron looks up from arranging teacups on a tray. "Good afternoon. Tea and a slice of the ginger cake, please." The woman nods, reaching for a delicate china teacup painted with small blue flowers. "Table or to take away, miss?" "Table, thank you." Eleanor surveys the room, settling on a corner table near the window where the last of the afternoon light filters through lace curtains. She arranges her gloves and purse on the adjacent chair, [[then reaches into her small leather satchel.->Cafe Visit Cutscene 1.5]]

[if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] The book falls open to a passage midway through. Your attention drifts across the words Eleanor reads: someone called David recounting a kitchen that always smelled of herbs, and how safe he felt there as a child - the character seems to be looking back at better times before some unspecified troubles. [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] Dense text covers each page. Eleanor's eyes follow a passage where someone named Dorothea sits in a library feeling trapped by her husband's endless, dry scholarship. The words mention "labyrinthine," "futile," and "husband's studies" in close succession. You sense disappointment, though the exact circumstances escape you. [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] The pages contain what appears to be a woman's journal. Eleanor reads a passage describing wallpaper - yellow wallpaper with a "sickly sulphur tint" and patterns that seem to move. The writer mentions seeing a woman "stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern." Eleanor's brow furrows slightly as she follows the text describing someone shaking the pattern, trying to get through. [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] The page Eleanor studies describes someone searching a young woman's room for a missing yellow diamond. Characters question each other about who entered which room and when. The words "evidence," "suspicion," and "guilt" appear repeatedly. You gather some valuable object has vanished under mysterious circumstances. How unfortunate. [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] Eleanor reads what appears to be a comic scene involving someone called Mr. Pickwick accidentally getting into a wrong bedroom at an inn and causing great confusion. The passage mentions "shrieks," "explanations," and "misunderstanding." Eleanor's mouth twitches at certain phrases. You don't get it. [continue] The waitress approaches, setting down a china teacup with matching saucer and a plate bearing a generous wedge of golden cake, its surface glistening with crystallized ginger. [[Eleanor marks her place with a ribbon and looks up.->Cafe Visit Cutscene 2]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- Eleanor lifts the delicate teacup, steam curling from the amber liquid within. The ginger cake sits before her - dense yellow sponge studded with crystallized pieces that catch the gaslight. She cuts a small portion with her fork, the crumb revealing itself to be moist and fragrant. Around the café, quiet conversations murmur beneath the soft hiss of gas flames. An elderly gentleman at the window table folds his newspaper, spectacles perched on his nose, while two women near the counter speak in low voices about the price of coal, their gloved hands wrapped around their teacups. Eleanor turns a page, fork pausing midway to her mouth as her eyes follow the text. The ginger releases its warmth as she chews, her attention divided between the printed words and the cake's sweet heat. Outside, the afternoon light begins to fade, throwing longer shadows across the white tablecloth. The waitress moves between tables, refilling teapots and collecting empty plates. Her footsteps tap softly against the polished wooden floor. [[The gaslight flickers, then steadies.->Cafe Visit Cutscene 3]]

Eleanor's fork scrapes the final crumbs from the plate. She sets down her teacup with a soft clink against the saucer, the liquid now cooled to lukewarm. Outside the window, street lamps begin to flicker to life along the pavement. She closes the book carefully, smoothing the ribbon bookmark between the pages before slipping it back into her leather satchel. Her gloves slide over her fingers as she gathers her purse and adjusts her hat. The elderly gentleman has departed - the two women settle their bill, pulling on their coats against the evening chill. Eleanor does the same, placing a few coins beside her empty plate and rising from the chair. The glass door chimes softly as she pushes through, stepping onto the darkening street where the tram waits at its stop. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Time to move on with the day.'}

By November, these encounters moved to Eleanor's flat. The sitting room bore evidence of their afternoons - the settee's leather showing permanent impressions where Eleanor's knees pressed into the cushions, her hands braced against the armrest while Richard positioned himself behind her. Her house robe hung open, revealing the pale expanse of her back marked with red fingerprints from his grip. If her belly hadn't kept on growing it would've swayed with each thrust. Instead, it pressed onto the couch pillows as Eleanor buried her face in the settee's fabric to muffle her sounds, her body accommodating his rhythm. The floorboards creaked under their combined weight, punctuated by the wet sounds of [[flesh meeting flesh.->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 3]]

December found them in Eleanor's bedroom, the afternoon light filtering through lace curtains to illuminate their tangled forms. Eleanor lay beneath Richard, her substantial frame spread across the mattress, her mouth open, with breathless sounds escaping it as the bed frame struck the wall in steady rhythm. As he shuddered and collapsed against her, Richard shifted his weight, rolling to Eleanor's side but keeping one hand planted firmly on the generous swell of her belly. His palm moved in slow circles across the taut surface, feeling how it had grown since October - softer now, more substantial beneath his touch. The room fell quiet except for the distant sound of carriages and the occasional creak of [[settling bedsprings->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 4]].

The telegram arrives on a bright Tuesday morning. Richard reads it twice at Eleanor's breakfast table: the Cairo Institute requires immediate departure - passage booked for Friday's steamer. Eleanor butters her toast while he explains the opportunity. She nods at appropriate intervals, asks practical questions about duration and accommodations. She understands better than anybody else why Richard can't refuse such a great opportunity. And so his trunk appears in Eleanor's hallway, Wednesday evening. Thursday brings the packing of books, instruments, travel clothes... Eleanor hands him a wrapped parcel - preserved foods for the journey. Their goodbye occurs in the hallway, and it's brief. Professional. [[She wishes him the best, and he does the same.->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 5]]

By March, Eleanor receives his first letter. The paper bears Cairo postmarks and describes excavation progress, accommodation arrangements, local customs. Two pages of archaeological observations conclude with a single paragraph mentioning her "companionship" and hoping for "continued correspondence." Eleanor's reply covers three pages - museum acquisitions, her promotion, detailed analysis of Roman pottery glazing techniques. The final paragraph references their "stimulating discussions" and expresses interest in his discoveries. His April letter arrives six weeks later. One page describing tomb chambers and artifact preservation methods. No personal references. Eleanor's response shortens to two pages, focused entirely on [[professional matters->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 6]].

By August, Eleanor's breakfast routine includes only one place setting. Her evenings feature museum work and domestic reading. The bedroom shows no evidence of previous disturbances - covers smoothed, pillows arranged, personal items organized in solitary arrangements. In the years to come, Richard's name occasionally appears in archaeological journals - all from Cairo, where he has decided to stay. Eleanor reads these with the same attention she applies to other scholarly work. Why wouldn't she? Their time together had been [[so brief, all things considered->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Route 7]].

Eleanor's promotion to Senior Curator brings increased responsibilities and salary. You follow her to her new apartment - one closer to the museum, for a shorter commute. Its second bedroom converts to additional storage for her expanding collection of artifacts. Your vessel will, in the years to come, sit on a small table by the entryway. You will get to see guests, family members - a thief, every once in a while, though they will be of no issue for you. [[What you won't see is Eleanor getting to share her bed again.->Museum Employment Richard Intercourse Ending]]

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And time moves strangely now, too. Minutes stretch like hours, then entire afternoons vanish without awareness. How long has it been since that telegram? Weeks? Months? [[...years?->Forgotten Office]]

ForgottenEndingTurns: ForgottenEndingTurns + 1 -- [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 1] You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. Cramped [[📚bookshelves->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] dominate the three walls in front of you, interrupted by a narrow [[window->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Eleanor's desk appears to have been hastily organized - your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] sits beside a nearly ordered pile of documents. To the left, a worn settee overflows with rolled [[maps->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Above it hangs a large framed [[🪙excavation chart->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] annotated in red ink. Behind you, the door leads back to the [[🏛️museum halls->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Near it is also a [[📆calendar->Office Calendar forgotten ending cannot move]]. *Eleanor is nowhere to be found.* [continue] [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 2] You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. [[📚Bookshelves->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] line the walls, though their individual volumes blur together. A [[window->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] admits pale light. Eleanor's desk holds your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] beside papers whose contents escape attention. To the left, a settee holds what might be [[maps->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Above it, a [[framed chart->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] bears markings in faded ink. Behind you, the door leads to [[museum halls->Office forgotten ending cannot move]]. Near it stands a [[📆calendar->Office Calendar forgotten ending cannot move]]. *...* [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 3] You are hovering inside Eleanor's office. [[Shelves->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] occupy the walls. A [[window->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] exists. Your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] rests on what appears to be a desk surface. Furniture of some kind sits to the left. Something hangs above it. Behind you, a doorway. Near it, a [[📆calendar->Office Calendar forgotten ending cannot move]]. *...what is this? Where are you?* [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 4] You are inside a room. There are a number of [[Shapes->Office forgotten ending cannot move]] against its walls. Your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] sits on a surface. The room is not dark. There is light coming from somewhere. *...* [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 5] You don't know where you are. Your [[🪦vessel->Vessel Office forgotten ending]] is here. [if ForgottenEndingTurns == 6] You feel Eleanor's presence moving around you. You feel her as she grabs your vessel, her hands gathering papers into neat stacks. A wooden crate appears beside them, its interior lined with straw. You feel her lift it, examining its surface briefly. She wraps it in a piece of cloth, then lowers it into the crate among other small objects - a paperweight, an inkwell, several books. The lid closes. There is movement. [[Darkness.->Forgotten Ending 3]]

You attempt to drift in that direction, but find yourself growing weaker with each passing moment. Your form wavers and fades, drawn inexorably back to your vessel. Whatever strength you once possessed is slipping away, leaving you tethered to the desk. {link to: 'Forgotten Office', label: 'Back'}

You focus your attention towards your vessel, still resting on top of Eleanor's desk. It's a small statuette carved from blackened stone, with a faint sheen to its smooth surface. It depicts a woman. It was warm before, wasn't it? It certainly isn't now. *You feel faint every time you look away from it.* {link to: 'Forgotten Office', label: 'Back'}

You attempt to drift toward the calendar, but find yourself growing weaker with each passing moment. Your form wavers and fades, drawn inexorably back to your vessel. Whatever strength you once had is slipping away, leaving you bound to the desk's surface. {link to: 'Forgotten Office', label: 'Back'}

It becomes impossible to remain focused - the dark granite of your vessel calls to you. As your consciousness begins to dissolve, you wonder if you'll ever awaken, or if this time the sleep will be permanent. The last thing you notice is the crate being lowered, and the sound of footsteps moving away from it, their echo growing fainter as your vision [[dims->CH.2 Forgotten Ending]].

Eleanor rises from her chair, the movement causing her skirt to rustle against the desk edge. Her hand instinctively adjusts her waistcoat, though by now the fabric provides little coverage. "Oh, um, certainly, sir. Though I confess I'm curious about the nature of-" "Come now, you can stop. What else could I be here for?" He opens the portfolio, withdrawing a single sheet of official letterhead. "The Board convened yesterday evening. After considerable deliberation..." He pauses, his gaze flickering briefly to her substantial form before returning to the document. "...and against my better judgment, funding for your proposal has been approved. Thirty pounds for your archaeological expedition to Brittany." Eleanor's breath catches audibly. Her hands fly to her mouth, then to her chest, then seem unsure where to settle. "Sir, I... that is to say... [[truly?->Expedition Approval 1.75]]"

*"Departure is scheduled for Thursday morning. Ferry passage from Bristol to Saint-Malo has been arranged."* He places the authorization on her desk, the paper settling beside your vessel. *"You'll have three days to prepare. I trust that's sufficient?"* [[Eleanor's response comes in a rush of barely controlled excitement.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 0]]

The moment the Director's footsteps fade down the corridor, Eleanor abandons all pretense of professional composure - she paces to the window, then back to her desk, her fingers trembling as she lifts the authorization letter to read it again. Twenty pounds. Thirty pounds! An entire expedition! Her research vindicated, her theories soon to be proven in the very soil of Brittany. Such momentous news demands proper celebration - and by the looks of it, Eleanor intends to spend most of the time she has left here in Britain to [[celebrate->Celebration Montage Cutscene 1]]

The bakery proprietress barely contains her surprise when Eleanor orders not one but three of everything - Chelsea buns, currant scones, apple turnovers, and an entire tray of jam tarts. "Celebrating, are we, Miss Lovelace?" she asks, wrapping the bounty in brown paper. Eleanor's laugh bubbles up from deep in her chest, her bosom jiggling with the motion. "An expedition! To Brittany! Can you imagine?" She tears into the first Chelsea bun before leaving the shop, sugar glaze coating her fingers as she devours it in enormous bites. The sweet, yeasted dough disappears with alarming speed, followed immediately by a scone that she splits and layers thick with butter. [[By the time she reaches the street corner, her breathing has grown shallow and quick.->Celebratoin Montage Cutscene 1.5]]

The waistband of her skirt presses deeply into her already bloated middle, creating a pronounced bulge both above and below the taut fabric. She pauses against a lamp post, one hand pressed to her chest, the other cradling her swollen belly as she works through a series of small, satisfied burps. But the celebration has only just begun. The tea room beckons from across the square, its windows glowing warmly in the afternoon light. Eleanor adjusts her jacket and [[makes her way toward the next course.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 2]]

The tea room's afternoon crowd thins as Eleanor claims a corner table, her bulk requiring the chair to be pushed back from the table entirely. She orders the full cream tea service - twice - along with seed cake, shortbread, and a selection of petit fours that she devours with her fingers, ignoring the scandalized glances from nearby patrons. Clotted cream coats her chin as she tears through scone after scone, each one loaded so heavily that white dollops fall onto her straining blouse. She doesn't bother wiping them away. Her jacket hangs open completely now, the buttons having given up their struggle hours ago, and her waistcoat barely contains the dome of her belly as it [[presses against the table edge.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 2.5]]

<div class="day-heading">TUESDAY</div> By morning of the next day, Eleanor sprawls across her four-poster bed, still wearing yesterday's food-stained blouse, her skirt twisted around her massive thighs. The breakfast hamper she'd had delivered lies empty beside her - pastries, preserves, and thick cream that she'd consumed before dragging herself to the tavern for an extended lunch of roast beef, kidney pie, Yorkshire pudding, and tankards of ale, eaten with the methodical determination of someone celebrating the greatest triumph of her career. Her breathing comes in shallow pants, interrupted by deep, rolling belches that seem to emerge from the very depths of her massively overstuffed belly. The fabric of her blouse has stretched to transparency across her swollen middle, the buttons gaping to reveal the pale, taut skin beneath. She reaches blindly for the remaining meat pie from the bedside table, her movements sluggish and deliberate as she [[forces it past her lips.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 3]]

Tuesday evening finds Eleanor naked on her sitting room floor, surrounded by the debris of her feast - empty serving dishes, crumpled napkins, wine bottles drained to their dregs. Her massive belly rises like a pale mountain from her supine form, its surface stretched taut and glistening with sweat - her very body struggling to contain the sheer volume she's forced into it. Each labored breath sends ripples across it, while her heavy breasts spill to either side of her chest, their weight settling against her arms. She reaches blindly for another handful of chocolates, her movements sluggish and dreamlike. It’s not even clear to you that this is still part of the celebrations: the expedition, Brittany, even her career have, just for this moment, faded to distant concepts. [[She can’t stop.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 3.5]]

Her fingers work mechanically - cream cakes dissolving on her tongue, trifle sliding down her throat, each swallow adding to the magnificent burden of her belly. And a burden it truly is: you can feel it as she empties her pantry’s provisions, and remembers the leftovers from this morning’s breakfast - unfortunately for her, located in the bedroom. The trek to the ramp of stairs is laborious, and the climb almost impossible. Her hands roam across the enormous expanse of her belly, kneading its skin as if trying to either appease it… [[or to make room for more.->Celebration Montage Cutscene 3.75]]

A low, somewhat relieved moan escapes her lips as she arrives at the upper floor and she leans across the wall, trying to accommodate the massive weight pressing down on her internal organs. Her stomach gurgles and churns audibly, simply unable to keep up, while her breathing comes in shallow, desperate gasps. Yet, after collapsing onto her bed, she still reaches for more - a final slice of pie, another spoonful of custard… The mantle clock below chimes midnight as Eleanor finally surrenders to exhaustion, [[her hand falling away from the empty serving bowl.->Packing Dawn Cutscene 1]]

The first pale light of Wednesday morning filters through Eleanor's bedroom windows, illuminating her sprawled form still naked on the four-poster bed. Her eyes flutter open gradually, unfocused and heavy. For a moment she lies perfectly still, then awareness strikes like a physical blow. [[Thursday. The ferry. Brittany.->Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama]]

PackingTurns (comesFromMenu() != true): PackingTurns + 1 -- [if PackingTurns <= 5] You hover within Eleanor's bedroom, morning light streaming through tall windows. The green damask walls frame the familiar space, though now scattered with empty plates and wine bottles from last night's celebration. The [[four-poster bed->four-poster bed packing]] dominates the center, its covers twisted and displaced. Near the [[wardrobe->wardrobe packing]], [[expedition clothes->expedition clothes]] hang ready from the door - practical traveling garments that seem ominously small. An [[expedition trunk->expedition trunk]] sits open by the window. The [[writing desk->writing desk packing]] by the window displays its usual papers and correspondence, your [[vessel->Vessel packing]] gleaming among the scattered documents. *** {embed passage: 'Packing Struggles'} [if PackingTurns == 6] Not a lot of progress is made. The expedition trunk stubbornly sparse, the wardrobe still overflowing with garments that no longer fit. Eleanor moves toward the writing desk instead, seeking perhaps the simpler task of organizing her research papers before departure. As she approaches, morning light catches the surface of your vessel where it sits among the scattered documents. She smiles. On a whim, [[her fingers close around the familiar granite form.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene]]

The four-poster bed dominates the room's center, its wooden frame bearing the evidence of recent disturbance. The quilt lies bunched and wrinkled, pushed toward the foot of the bed where Eleanor finally managed to roll herself upright. Pillows remain scattered across the mattress and floor - some still bearing the deep impressions of her overstuffed form, others knocked aside in her efforts to find leverage. Wine stains mark the sheets near the headboard, while crumbs from last night's celebration are ground into the fabric. The mattress itself sags noticeably in the center, the springs having groaned under Eleanor's substantial weight throughout the night. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The wardrobe stands with both doors flung wide, its contents scattered about. Several blouses hang askew on their hooks, while others have been pulled from their neat stacks and now drape over the wardrobe's edge. A light green skirt dangles half-off its hanger, its waistband stretched wide as if recently tested. The scarves remain draped over the rail, though now they're joined by a discarded corset and several chemises that have been examined and abandoned. The heavy winter coat still hangs at the far end, untouched - clearly too small even to attempt. On the floor of the wardrobe, a small pile of undergarments sits in defeat, their delicate construction no match for Eleanor's current girth. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The practical traveling garments hang from the wardrobe door, their modest proportions now grimly apparent. A dark wool skirt designed for fieldwork looks impossibly narrow, while the accompanying blouses seem built for a woman half Eleanor's current size. A heavy traveling coat drapes over the collection, its sturdy fabric meant to withstand rough conditions. Beneath it, sensible undergarments and thick stockings complete the ensemble - all carefully selected weeks ago when such considerations seemed manageable. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The expedition trunk sits open by the window, its leather straps hanging loose. A few items lie scattered across its bottom - a spare pair of boots, some folded maps, and a compass wrapped in felt. The interior shows the optimistic organization of someone who expected to fill every compartment. Two small travel cases nest in one corner, meant for delicate artifacts and specimens. A leather document portfolio sits empty, its brass clasps gleaming. The trunk's fitted compartments remain largely vacant, their velvet lining pristine and waiting. A traveling writing kit occupies one section - portable inkwells, a small blotter, and sealed envelopes ready for correspondence from the field. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The writing desk bears the evidence of Eleanor's packing attempts - a collection of ink-stained pens lies scattered beside half-filled travel inkwells. Ferry tickets and official documents rest in loose stacks. Your vessel sits prominently among the papers, its granite surface catching the morning light. Nearby, a leather-bound travel journal lies open, its first few pages already filled with Eleanor's careful script detailing expedition plans and site coordinates. A small pile of correspondence - letters of introduction, museum recommendations, boarding house confirmations - waits to be sorted into her document case. The paperweight bird you had so precisely placed has been knocked askew and now perches precariously near the desk's edge. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Her fingers begin tracing its carved contours. You can feel the granite's warmth on her fingers. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, the movement causing her massive belly to sway slightly, but done to angle herself to the window, examining, with a furrowed brow, the statuette's surface in the morning light. A small smirk crosses her lips. She glances down at the enormous dome of her belly, then back at the vessel in her hands. Carefully, you see her hovering it higher and higher, her arms then closening the gap between the two and, [[without warning...->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 1.3]]

The vessel sits exactly where Eleanor left it, a small statuette carved from blackened stone with a sheen along its smooth surface. It depicts a very fat woman. You can hear a low hum coming from it, steady and rhythmic. The granite radiates warmth that seems to pulse in time with the sound - much warmer than usual. Morning light catches its carved contours, highlighting the rounded belly and abundant form that so closely mirrors Eleanor's current state. {link to: 'Bedroom Merge Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack1] Eleanor attempts to roll herself upright, her massive belly creating an insurmountable obstacle. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack1] Each effort sends ripples across the pale, stretched dome of her stomach, while deep groans escape her lips with every failed attempt. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack1] Her arms tremble under the weight of lifting her, sweat beading across her forehead and pooling between her heavy breasts, which spill to either side of her with each movement. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack1 newline] You can spot a number of faint stretch marks that weren't there yesterday. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack1] Finally, she manages to prop herself against the headboard, her breathing shallow. [if PackingTurns == 1; dialogue delay:2.2 id:pack1] A long, rolling belch erupts from deep within her, bringing a momentary expression of relief to her flushed face. [continue] [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack2] Sitting on the bed's edge proves to be an ordeal of its own. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack2] Eleanor's legs dangle uselessly as her enormously distended belly prevents her from reaching the floor properly. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack2] She rocks forward and back, her stomach gurgling audibly with each movement, trying to build momentum to stand. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack2 newline] When she finally manages to slide off the mattress, her knees buckle immediately. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack2] She catches herself against the bedpost, gasping and moaning as the sudden movement sends waves of discomfort through her overpacked form. [if PackingTurns == 2; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack2] A whimper of frustration escapes her lips. [continue] [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack3] Eleanor eyes her expedition clothes with disdain. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack3] The practical skirts and blouses that seemed so appropriate weeks ago now... don't seem as much. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack3] She attempts to lift one of the blouses holding it against her naked form. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack3 newline] The fabric doesn't even span half the width of her swollen middle. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack3] She lets it fall to the floor with a bitter laugh that catches in her throat, one hand unconsciously moving to trace the taut, aching surface of her upper belly where it presses against her ribs. [if PackingTurns == 3; dialogue delay:2.2 id:pack3] Her fingers linger there, feeling the incredible tension in her skin, and for a moment her eyes flutter closed as if savoring the sensation despite her predicament. [continue] [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack4] The expedition trunk taunts her from across the room - a distance that might as well be miles. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack4] Eleanor attempts to waddle toward it, each step a carefully calculated effort. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack4] Her thighs rub together with each movement, while her massive belly sways and bounces, throwing off her balance. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack4 newline] Halfway there, she's forced to stop and lean against the wardrobe, panting heavily. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack4] A series of small, stifled burps punctuate her labored breathing as her stomach continues its relentless work. [if PackingTurns == 4; dialogue delay:2.2 id:pack4] She slides one hand along the enormous curve of her middle - you watch her nipples hardening as she does so. [continue] [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:0.1 id:pack5] Eleanor spots a fallen undergarment near the foot of the bed and attempts to retrieve it. [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack5] She bends forward slowly, her massive belly immediately pressing against her thighs and making any further descent impossible. [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:2.0 id:pack5] The blood rushes to her head as she struggles, her breasts hanging heavily, nipples brushing against the taut surface below. [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.5 id:pack5 newline] She straightens with obvious effort, abandoning the garment entirely. [if PackingTurns == 5; dialogue delay:1.8 id:pack5] Both hands move to massage the small of her back. [continue]

[[...Eleanor places the vessel directly on top of her belly.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 1.6]]

[[It's now big enough for it to be able to sit on it and not immediately fall off.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 1.9]]

config.style.page.color: "black on amber-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on amber-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.color: "gray-1 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "white" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "teal-3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "teal-5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "aquamarine-2 on gray-6" -- Carefully she straightens, her hands falling to her sides. After a couple of still, calming moments, the artefact is almost thrown off of its perch as she starts giggling, and then outright laughing to herself. [[Her hands grab it just before the inevitable.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 2]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #fde3c1" config.style.page.link.color: "#5b451c" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#4a3315" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#d9045b on #fde3c1" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#b5043e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#5b451c" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4a3315" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d9045b on #fde3c1" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#b5043e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#d9045b on #fde3c1" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#cccccc on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#e6e6e6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#b3cccc" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffb3d9 on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#cceeee" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#e6e6e6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#b3cccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffb3d9 on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#cceeee" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffb3d9 on #4a4a4a" -- Eleanor holds the vessel at eye level, turning it slowly in the morning light. Her breathing remains labored from the simple effort of standing, and she shifts her weight carefully to ease the pressure in her massively distended stomach. "Come now..." She pauses as a small burp escapes her lips. "...don't look at me like that! I, um... I had to try." She glances down at her enormous belly, then back at the carved figure. "...I suppose we do rather match now, don't we? Both of us... abundantly proportioned." A giggle catches in her throat as she traces the vessel's rounded contours with one finger. She leans against the desk's edge, the furniture creaking under the additional weight. "My lucky charm. Got me enough finding, didn't you? Though I must say, your timing could use some work." She gestures vaguely at her naked, swollen form. "God... why would I eat so much right before departure? [[What was I thinking?"->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 3]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #f8eae0" config.style.page.link.color: "#4a6853" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#3a5242" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#d00d70 on #f8eae0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ad0b5e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#4a6853" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#3a5242" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d00d70 on #f8eae0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ad0b5e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#d00d70 on #f8eae0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e0d6cc on #1f2622" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#99b3a6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#7a9485" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff4d99 on #1f2622" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#99b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#99b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a9485" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff4d99 on #1f2622" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#99b3a6" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff4d99 on #1f2622" -- Eleanor sets the vessel back on the desk and immediately feels foolish. Talking to artifacts now - what's next, holding conversations with the furniture? Though the wardrobe had been giving her judgmental looks all morning. She turns her attention to the scattered research papers, trying to organize them into some semblance of order. "Right then. Travel documents, letters of introduction, site maps..." Each item gets sorted into neat piles, though you can see bending over the desk proves challenging. "Mrs. Henderson's boarding house reservation... I do hope she has a sturdy bed." A frown crosses her face as she picks up a letter from the ferry company. "Cabin assignments... oh dear." The booking confirmation clearly states dimensions for the sleeping berth - measurements that seemed perfectly reasonable when she'd made the reservation weeks ago. Now... well. "And... and you know what the worst part is? I'll have to wear that awful traveling corset..." Her hand moves unconsciously to her side, where the steel boning would dig in. "Assuming it still...[[ assuming I can even...->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 4]]"

config.style.page.color: "black on #f6edf0" config.style.page.link.color: "#42796f" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#356158" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#a90e67" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#42796f" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#356158" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#a90e67" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ddd4d9 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#669985" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#669985" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" -- The vessel is placed back on the desk. Her swell forces her to place it further in, to save it from being bumped onto the floor later. It reminds her of these last two day's indulgence. Three restaurants, two bakeries... The memory makes her flush with embarrassment and... something else. Pride? Satisfaction? I can't quite name it. I should be mortified. A professional woman, a scholar, reduced to sprawling naked on her sitting room floor like some sort of... well. But there's something liberating about it too, isn't there? About finally giving in completely to appetite, to desire, to the simple pleasure of *more*. But now there's work to be done. There always is. Packing. Planning. [[The expedition won't wait for anybody.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 5]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #f6edf0" config.style.page.link.color: "#42796f" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#356158" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#a90e67" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#42796f" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#356158" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#a90e67" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cc117b on #f6edf0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ddd4d9 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#669985" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#669985" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#80b3a6" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff3399 on #1a1f1e" -- I move back to the scattered papers, sorting them with renewed determination. Ferry tickets, site permits, equipment lists. Each document represents months of preparation, years of research. I need to focus on the important stuff first - there's time! Plenty of time. Yes. Yes! I shouldn't be worrying so much. The morning sun shifts, casting new shadows across the desk. And then, I hear it. [[*growwwwl*->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 6]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#3a8b8b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#2b6a6a" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#3a8b8b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#2b6a6a" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#d9ccff on #1a1829" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#4d9999" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#d966ff on #1a1829" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4d9999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#d966ff on #1a1829" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#d966ff on #1a1829" -- ...how? How am I still hungry? I stare down at myself in disbelief. The sheer size of my belly is... well, it's remarkable, really. I run my hands along its surface, marveling at how taut the skin has become, how it seems to have its own weight and presence. When did I get so... substantial? It all happened so fast... The thought drifts away as another rumble echoes through me. My mouth waters despite myself. Breakfast. Yes, that sounds... that sounds perfect, actually. Warm bread, perhaps. Butter. Jam. Oh, jam sounds lovely. What was I doing? The papers... right, the papers. Ferry tickets and... and other important things. Very important. But really, it would be terribly unwise to work on an empty stomach. Improper nutrition leads to poor decision-making, doesn't it? I read that somewhere. Or maybe I didn't. [[But it sounds about right.->Vessel Interaction Cutscene 6.5]]

config.style.page.color: "#2a1a3a on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.color: "#3a8b8b" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#2b6a6a" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#6a4b8b" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4d3663" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#9a0e5e" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#c71585 on #f4f0ff" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6ccff on #1a0d2e" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#66b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#4d9999" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #4a2d8a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#9973d9" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7355b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #4a2d8a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8066cc" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #4a2d8a" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.1</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Whole</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'aether'}

Eleanor rises from her chair, the sudden movement causing her skirt to rustle against the desk edge. "Oh, um, certainly, sir. Though I confess I'm curious about the nature of-" "Come now, you can stop. What else could I be here for?" He opens the portfolio, withdrawing a single sheet of official letterhead. "The Board convened yesterday evening. After some deliberation..." He pauses. "...and some convincing from yours truly, funding for your proposal has been approved. An additional thirty pounds for your archaeological expedition to Brittany." Eleanor's breath catches audibly. Her hands fly to her mouth, then to her chest, then seem unsure where to settle. "Sir, I... that is to say... [[truly?->Expedition Approval (Left Behind) 1.75]]"

The moment the Director's footsteps fade down the corridor, Eleanor abandons all pretense of professional composure - she paces to the window, then back to her desk, her fingers trembling as she lifts the authorization letter to read it again. Thirty pounds! An entire expedition! Her research vindicated, her theories soon to be proven in the very soil of Brittany. Such momentous news demands immediate action. Eleanor pulls open her desk drawer and withdraws a leather portfolio, spreading its contents across the desktop. Lists emerge - equipment needs, travel arrangements, correspondence requirements. Her pen moves with quick, decisive strokes as she begins organizing the monumental task ahead. [[Three days to prepare for the expedition of a lifetime.->Preparation Montage Cutscene 1]]

The cartographer's shop bell chimes as Eleanor pushes through the heavy oak door, her portfolio clutched tightly against her chest. Behind glass cases, rolled maps and surveying instruments catch the afternoon light. "Maps of northern Brittany," she announces to the proprietor, her voice crisp with purpose. The elderly man retrieves three large sheets, spreading them across his counter with practiced care. Eleanor's finger traces potential excavation sites, her eyes bright with scholarly excitement as she correlates his markings with her research notes. She purchases not only the maps but a compact compass and measuring chains - tools that will serve her well in the field. [[The instrument maker's workshop lies just two streets away.->Preparation Montage Cutscene 2]]

<div class="day-heading">TUESDAY</div> By dawn Eleanor stands before her expedition trunk, methodically folding field clothes into precise arrangements. Sturdy boots, waterproof cape, practical skirts that will withstand rough terrain - each item selected for function over fashion. Her hands move with the efficiency of someone who has planned every detail. The university library consumes her afternoon. She emerges with borrowed volumes on Breton archaeology, Celtic pottery traditions, and excavation methodologies, her leather satchel straining under their weight. <div class="day-heading">WEDNESDAY</div> The final morning arrives with Eleanor checking items off her comprehensive lists. Travel documents, letters of introduction, research notes - all organized into neat portfolios. She pauses only to consume a hurried breakfast before [[making her final visit to the museum.->Office Departure Cutscene]]

Eleanor enters her office with brisk efficiency, her traveling cape already fastened over her practical expedition attire. She moves directly to her desk, gathering the final research portfolios and correspondence that require her personal attention during the journey. Your vessel sits exactly where it has rested the previous week, catching the morning light that streams through the tall windows. Eleanor's gaze passes over it briefly as she organizes her papers - just another artifact, one like the rest. Her attention focuses on essentials: [[her maps, her sketches.->Office Departure Cutscene 1.5]]

She pauses at the doorway for one final survey, ensuring nothing critical has been forgotten. She adjusts her cape, lifts her traveling case, and steps into the corridor. The door clicks shut behind her. [[Your vessel remains.->Abandonment Sequence 1]]

The office settles into unfamiliar rhythms during Eleanor's absence. Dust accumulates on the desk's surface - no daily disturbance from papers being shuffled, no displacement from Eleanor's frequent movements. The vessel remains exactly where she left it, now the most stationary object in a room that has grown remarkably still. Other figures occasionally enter: the cleaning woman who dusts around your vessel without moving it, a clerk who retrieves a ledger from Eleanor's bookshelf, the Director himself who surveys the space with an expression you cannot interpret. None linger. None disturb the fundamental arrangement of the room. The pocket watch on Eleanor's desk continues its steady ticking, marking days that accumulate into weeks. Morning light streams through the windows at predictable angles, illuminating the same papers Eleanor abandoned in her final organization. [[The rhythms grow longer still.->Abandonment Sequence 2]]

Months pass without Eleanor's return. You can only assume that the museum's administrative machinery eventually requires her office for a replacement curator, and the systematic dismantling begins. [if RichardRelationship >= 2] Richard handles the archaeological materials with professional expertise, though his movements seem slower, more deliberate than necessary. He pauses when collecting your vessel, turning it in his hands before placing it carefully in the box marked for Eleanor's personal effects. "She'll want this when she returns," he tells the clerk, though his voice lacks conviction. [unless RichardRelationship >= 2; if MaryRelationship >= 2] Mary oversees the packing of Eleanor's personal effects, her movements careful and respectful as she wraps artifacts in tissue paper. "Such a shame," she murmurs to her assistant, "Eleanor was so passionate about her work." She lifts your vessel with particular care, examining its carved features before nestling it safely among Eleanor's other personal belongings. [unless RichardRelationship >= 2; unless MaryRelationship >= 2; if VioletInterest >= 2] Violet efficiently catalogs each item before packing, her pen scratching precise descriptions onto official forms. When she reaches your vessel, she studies it with unsettling intensity before recording "Stone figurine, personal artifact" in her ledger. Her gloved hands place it among Eleanor's effects without ceremony. [unless RichardRelationship >= 2; unless MaryRelationship >= 2; unless VioletInterest >= 2] Museum staff pack Eleanor's belongings with bureaucratic efficiency, your vessel becoming simply another item in the inventory of "personal effects to be stored pending curator's return." [continue] The box travels through Bristol's streets to Eleanor's flat, where it joins other storage containers in the sitting room. You find yourself on Eleanor's familiar mantelpiece. [[The flat grows quiet.->Abandonment Sequence 3]]

Years accumulate in Eleanor's flat like the dust that now coats every surface in uniform grey. The mantelpiece clock stopped months ago, while the window frames developed hairline cracks where winter damp seeped through, creating dark stains that spread across the wallpaper in organic patterns. Small creatures have established residence in the kitchen pantry, their scratching sounds providing the flat's only movement. They emerge at predictable intervals, following pathways between the walls that you, through sheer boredom, have mapped out in their entirety. You can occasionally hear the building's other tenants' footsteps overhead, but no one enters the flat. The vessel's position on the mantelpiece remains constant, accumulating its own layer of dust that dulls the granite's once-polished surface. Morning light still enters through the grimy windows. It's increasingly muted. [[The patterns grow familiar, then routine, then simply background.->Realization (Left Behind) 1]]

Eleanor is not coming back. The expedition to Brittany has become something else entirely - a new life, perhaps, or simply an ending you cannot observe. In any case your purpose here has simply... concluded. You feel the familiar pull toward your vessel, stronger now than it has been in years. The tether that once bound you to Eleanor's presence has grown slack, directionless, drawing you back to the granite form that waits on the mantelpiece. Your essence drifts toward the carved figure, [[no longer resisting.->Realization (Left Behind) 2]]

The flat grows remarkably still as your consciousness congeals back into the stone. You wonder if you'll ever awaken, or if [[this time the sleep will be permanent.->Left Behind Ending]]

config.style.page.color: "black on red-2" config.style.page.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on red-2" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "cinnamon-5" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "cinnamon-4" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on red-2" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "cinnamon-6" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "raspberry-4 on red-2" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffcccc on #2a0000" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#cc6666" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #660000" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#cc6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #660000" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffffff on #660000" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.10</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Left Behind</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'distortion'}

Eleanor reaches for her workbag, then pauses as her fingers encounter the rough fragments through the fabric of her skirt pocket. Her face flushes as she glances at Richard, still absorbed in his grammatical explanation. She carefully extracts the broken pieces - the split ivory amulet and several bone fragments - placing them on the table between their plates. The largest piece rocks slightly on its fractured edge. "*Richard... I'm afraid I've done something rather clumsy.*" Her voice is quiet, apologetic. "*These were among your artifacts this morning, and I seem to have... well, I believe I knocked them from the table.*" She arranges the fragments with her fingertip, not meeting his eyes. [[Richard looks up from his notes, blinking in confusion.->Translation Session Cutscene Alt 2]]

AmuletsState: 'broken' -- You concentrate, pushing a sharp vibration through the brown paper-covered table. The surface trembles, sending the bone trinkets sliding toward the edge. Several pieces topple off, striking the stone floor with sharp cracks. You spot the ivory amulet spliting down its center upon impact. A bone fragment breaks cleanly from its base, skittering across the floor tiles. The remaining pieces on the table sit askew, shifted from their original arrangement. [[The sound draws Eleanor's attention.->Amulets Aether Cutscene 2]]

AmuletsPastSeen: true -- The exhibition hall dissolves, replaced by cool, damp air that carries the scent of wet stone and something organic - sweet, almost fermented. You find yourself suspended above a vast, darkened chamber. Teal phosphorescence emanates from clusters of bulbous fungi clinging to the cavern walls, their caps pulsing with a steady, breath-like rhythm. The light casts everything in a teal glow - stalactites drip condensation that sparkles as it falls. Vegetation you do not recognize carpets the cavern floor in patches. Thick leaves spiral upward from gnarled stems, their surfaces slick with moisture that beads and rolls in the phosphorescent light. There are streams weave between the growth, their water dark but clear, carrying sediment that glitters with the same luminescence. Tiny spores drift lazily through the chamber, catching the light. [[Somewhere below you, you hear a scraping sound.->Past Amulets Cutscene 2]]

Eleanor was stepping back from the amulets table just as the sharp cracks followed behind her. She turns, seeing the scattered fragments on the floor - the ivory piece split cleanly, bone shards spread across the stone tiles. She glances at Richard, still bent over his papyrus, then crouches quickly beside the broken pieces. Her fingers gather the fragments swiftly, tucking them into her skirt pocket. The larger split amulet follows, disappearing into the fabric. Rising, she smooths her skirt over the now-bulging pocket and steps away from the table. Her cheeks carry a faint flush as she moves to a different display case. {link to: 'Egyptian Exhibition Diorama', label: 'Back'}

[CONTINUATION SCENE DESCRIPTION - TO BE DEVELOPED [DIALOGUE OR ACTION ELEMENTS - TO BE DEVELOPED The vision dissolves, returning you to the scattered brown paper and broken artifacts. {link to: 'amulets', label: 'Back'}

"I-I know, I'm sorry, I should have mentioned it immediately." Eleanor's voice wavers slightly. "I've been carrying them about all morning, feeling quite dreadful about the whole thing." Richard adjusts his spectacles, examining the fragments scattered between their plates. He picks up the split ivory piece, turning it over in his fingers. "Oh no, let me take a... Oh! These!*" He chuckles, setting the piece down. "*Ellie, you needn't worry about them in the slightest. I found these in a Cairo street market - they were probably made last week by some enterprising fellow hoping to fool tourists. [[They didn't even bother to weather them right.->Translation Session Cutscene Alt 2.5]]"

He gestures toward the bone fragments. "*See how roughly they're carved? Real Egyptian amulets would never show such... well, such obvious inexperience. I thought they were rather amusing examples of modern forgery, actually.*" Eleanor wrings her hands. "But still, I should have said something the moment it happened..." "Nonsense!" Richard waves his hand dismissively. "If anything, you've done me a favor - clearly they were getting mixed in with the actual artifacts. Probably best they're separated now." [[His expression grows more serious as he leans forward slightly.->Translation Session Cutscene Alt 3]]

Richard leans forward, his eyes twinkling behind his lenses. "*You know, Ellie, the fact that you took such care to retrieve them and return them properly... well, it shows real consideration for the collection.*" He gestures toward the fragments with his fork. "*Most people would simply leave broken pieces where they fell, or worse, try to hide the accident entirely.*" Eleanor manages a small, hesitant smile, picking nervously at a stray crumb on the tablecloth. The blush remains, but the tightness around her eyes lessens. "*Well... thank you, Richard, that's... kind of you to say.*" The conversation shifts away from broken trinkets, becoming lighter, more personal. Eventually, [[the lunch hour draws toward a close.->Translation Session Cutscene 6]]

Your attention draws to a small figure hunched near one of the phosphorescent pools. The scraping continues - against stone, ivory, and jewels, irregular and halting. You spot a small hand with sharp nails working at what appears to be a piece of white bone. Well, you can only assume that to be white: the light here is making everything one color. The figure crouches on bare feet, toes gripping the damp moss for balance. Rough-woven fabric wraps around narrow hips, the cloth secured with what looks like twisted vine. The shoulders are bare, its skin gleaming - dark hair falls forward, obscuring their face. Their movements are clumsy, the nails slipping frequently. Beside the worker, several completed pieces rest in the moss - amulets bearing the same wavering lines you recognize from the museum's collection. The figure pauses, holding the bone up. The sharp hands turn the piece, examining each groove with apparent satisfaction. [[**BONK**->Past Amulets Cutscene 3]]

A second figure has emerged from behind a cluster of fungi, clutching a large bone. The first figure rubs their skull where the stone struck. It's hard to tell from this height up, but both look fairly short, with the newcomer having curly hair, being broader through the hips and middle, her rounded form wrapped in similar rough cloth. "Keff! Fields need tend!" Her voice carries a harsh accent, words clipped short. "Big-Maw want mushrooms before dark-time. You sit here scratch bones like... like useless kit!" The male holds up its index finger with one hand, and the carved amulet in the other. "Wrong!! Wrong. Make good trade-things. Sky-walkers like shiny marks." He smiles, smugly so. "[[Everyone knows.->Past Amulets Cutscene 3.5]]"

"Idiot! Sky-walkers not come for seasons. Stomach empty *now*!" She swipes at his head again, though, seeing it coming, he expertly ducks under it... a couple of seconds too late. "Husband mine supposed help dig tubers, not play with dead-things!" Keff sighs as he pushes himself up from the moss, watching the broader figure disappear behind a wall of phosphorescent fungi. He waits, head tilted toward the fading voices - his hands sweep across the moss, gathering the scattered amulets. Each piece disappears into a small pouch at his waist - bone, ivory, the half-finished carvings. The vision dissolves, returning you to the scattered brown paper and broken artifacts. {link to: 'amulets', label: 'Back'}

WatchingBowlPastSeen: true -- The archive dissolves, replaced by cool air that carries the scent of worked stone and something metallic - iron, perhaps copper. You find yourself suspended above a circular chamber carved from pale limestone, its walls polished smooth. The floor bears intricate geometric patterns etched directly into the stone - spirals and interconnected circles that radiate outward from the center. A low stone table occupies the room's heart, its surface covered with a number of objects you can't really define. [[You do recognize that same bowl, though.->Past Watching Bowl Cutscene 2]]

A tall figure moves between the table and a series of wall niches, their movements deliberate, unhurried. They wear robes of purple cloth, the fabric falling in straight lines to their ankles. Long blonde hair hangs in a single braid down their back. The chamber trembles. They pause, fingers resting on a small granite statuette, [[then continue their work without looking up.->Past Watching Bowl Cutscene 3]]

Beyond the chamber's far wall, a jagged opening leads into rougher-hewn passages. Torches mounted in iron brackets cast wavering light across uneven stone surfaces. The figure steps back from the table, hands folded. Their face remains calm, though their eyes move once toward the only opening where the flames now flicker wildly, as if pulled by some massive inward breath. They approach the chamber's entrance, but pause at the threshold. *Something massive is moving through the deeper passages.* You can feel its steps reverberating through the stone, and yet... the figure steps out. The torches extinguish one by one as they pass, until only darkness remains in the passages beyond. The vision dissolves. {link to: 'Archive Review Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineObjects (comesFromMenu() != true): 0 MineInkBottles: 0 MinePens: 0 MineUnopennedLetters: 0 MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence: 0 MineWardrobe: 0 MineBedSideTable: 0 MineEleanor: 0 config.header.right: " " MineAllCompleted: false MineStairway: 0 MineTintypes: 0 MineGuestRoom: 0 -- The banister gleams. The door handles shine. Even the corners where dust typically gathers remain immaculate. Only around the scattered plates and crumb-laden napkins does disorder persist - you simply haven't had the opportunity to get around to them. [[You hover upwards, toward the bedroom.->Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama]]

MineAllCompleted (MineInkBottles > 0 && MinePens > 0 && MineUnopennedLetters > 0 && MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence > 0 && MineWardrobe > 0 && MineBedSideTable > 0 && MineEleanor > 0): true config.header.left: "~ ~ ✥ ◇ ✥ ~ ~" -- [unless MineAllCompleted] You hover within Eleanor's bedroom, early morning light streaming through pristine windows. The green damask walls gleam, freshly cleaned. [[Eleanor->Mine Eleanor]] lies among a mountain of pillows atop the [[four-poster bed->Mine Bed Side Table]], her breathing deep and even. The [[wardrobe->Mine Wardrobe]] stands with doors slightly ajar. Near the window, the writing desk displays its careful arrangements - [[ink bottles->Mine Ink Bottles]] lined in neat rows, a collection of [[pens->Mine Pens]] arranged by length, stacks of [[unopened letters->Mine Unopened Letters]] weighted down beneath plates, and [[papers->Mine Half-Finished Correspondence]]. Behind you, the hallway stretches toward the [[⤴️upper floor landing->Mine Ending Upper Floor]]. [if MineAllCompleted] Your hear Eleanor's breathing as it shifts - the deep, rhythmic pattern of sleep becoming shallower, irregular. Her fingers twitch against the quilt's edge. A soft sound escapes her throat, not quite a sigh, more so a grunt. Her eyelids flutter, but don't quite open just yet. The mattress shifts slightly as she stirs. [[You drift closer.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs]]

MineEleanor: MineEleanor + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 config.header.left: "~ ~:(　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　);＼＼＼＼~ ~" -- Eleanor lies naked across the broken mattress, her honey-blonde hair spread in tangles across the pillow pile. The bed frame groans under her, its slats bowed and reinforced with boards you've slid beneath them over the months. Her body fills the bed entirely. Her belly dominates her torso, a massive dome that rises and falls with each breath. It spreads across her thighs and pools against the mattress edge, marked with deep stretch marks and rolls where it folds against itself. Her breasts, lost among the upper slopes of her stomach, point outward under their own weight. Crumbs dot the folds of her neck. Dried cream traces her lips, while her hands rest by the side, where they fell after her last meal, fingers still sticky with preserved fruit. Her wheezy breathing catches occasionally. Small pained grunts - given how much you've fed her, this is to be expected. *And yet you just know she's wishing for more.* {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineBedSideTable: MineBedSideTable + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineBedSideTable == 1] The four-poster bed dominates the room's center, its wooden frame polished to a mirror shine despite the deep impressions worn into the floorboards beneath each post. The canopy drapes in precise folds, measured and steamed. Eleanor's substantial form creates a pronounced valley in the mattress, surrounded by pillows arranged in descending height order. A mahogany side table sits two feet from the bed's edge - close enough to reach, but requiring Eleanor to stretch her arm fully. Its surface bears a collection of crystal glasses - some full, some empty - and between them a silver tray holds an assortment of small cakes, their sugar dusting a bit stale. *You adjust the table's position, sliding it six inches closer to the bed.* [if MineBedSideTable > 1] The four-poster bed dominates the room's center, its wooden frame polished to a mirror shine despite the deep impressions worn into the floorboards beneath each post. The canopy drapes in precise folds, measured and steamed. Eleanor's substantial form creates a pronounced valley in the mattress, surrounded by pillows arranged in descending height order. A mahogany side table now sits within easy reach of the bed. Its surface bears a collection of crystal glasses - some full, some empty - and between them a silver tray holds an assortment of small cakes, their sugar dusting a bit stale. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineWardrobe: MineWardrobe + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineWardrobe == 1] The wardrobe stands with both doors ajar, revealing its sparse contents: three shapeless dresses hang from the rail, their fabric loose. Forgiving. Below them, two canvas aprons lie folded on the shelf - garments designed for comfort rather than form. The floor of the wardrobe holds only dust and a few scattered buttons from discarded clothing. Against the back panel, a coiled measuring tape rests in the corner, its brass end glinting despite the shadows. *You seize the measuring tape and propel it through the bedroom doorway, down the hallway, and over the stairway rail where it clatters against the ground floor below.* [if MineWardrobe > 1] The wardrobe stands with both doors ajar, revealing its sparse contents. Three shapeless grey dresses hang from the rail, their fabric loose and forgiving. Below them, two canvas aprons lie folded on the shelf - garments designed for comfort rather than form. The floor of the wardrobe shows only dust and scattered buttons. The back corner remains empty, swept clean of intrusion. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineInkBottles: MineInkBottles + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineInkBottles == 1] Six glass ink bottles sit in a neat row along the desk's back edge, their contents ranging from deep black to faded brown. Their brass caps catch the morning light, each one twisted tight. Dried ink stains mark the desk surface where bottles once stood closer to the writing area. A seventh bottle rests near the front of the desk, its cap loose, a few drops of fresh ink pooled around its base. The bottle bears fingerprint smudges on its surface. *You lift the errant bottle, guiding it upward to join a collection of identical vessels arranged on the topmost bookshelf behind the desk - well beyond Eleanor's reach.* [if MineInkBottles > 1] Six glass ink bottles sit in a neat row along the desk's back edge, their contents ranging from deep black to faded brown. Their brass caps catch the morning light, each one twisted tight. Dried ink stains mark the desk surface, but no bottles rest nearby. Above on the highest bookshelf, a seventh bottle now stands among its companions, its cap properly tightened, its surface wiped clean. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MinePens: MinePens + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MinePens == 1] A collection of pens lies scattered across the desk's surface, their nibs worn from years of use. Most bear ink stains along their barrels - evidence of Eleanor's once hurried correspondence. The wooden handles show tooth marks where she chewed on them during difficult passages. One pen begins to hover three inches above the desk's surface, trembling slightly as it does so. Its brass nib catches the morning light as it drifts toward a blank sheet of paper. *You seize the floating pen and snap its shaft in half with a sharp **crack**.* [if MinePens > 1] A collection of pens lies scattered across the desk's surface, their nibs worn from years of use. Most bear ink stains along their barrels - evidence of Eleanor's once hurried correspondence. The wooden handles show tooth marks where she chewed on them during difficult passages. Two halves of a broken pen rest among the others, their brass nib separated from the wooden shaft. A small pool of ink has leaked from the severed reservoir onto the desk's surface. *How bothersome.* [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineUnopennedLetters: MineUnopennedLetters + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineUnopennedLetters == 1] A stack of correspondence sits partially visible beneath a collection of empty plates and crumb-laden napkins. Several envelopes show official seals - some bearing the crest of the Royal Archaeological Society, others with unfamiliar heraldic marks. The topmost letter, a red one, displays Eleanor's name in elegant copperplate script. One envelope's corner protrudes from beneath a plate smeared with jam residue, its cream-colored paper stained but the wax seal still intact. *You slide additional plates and napkins from the desk's surface, layering them carefully over the visible correspondence.* [if MineUnopennedLetters > 1] Empty plates and stained napkins cover the desk's left corner in a deliberate mound. Crumbs of various meals have accumulated between the dishes, while streaks of dried preserves mark the porcelain surfaces. No correspondence remains visible beneath the carefully arranged debris. The weight of the plates presses down evenly, ensuring nothing shifts or slides free. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence: MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence == 1] A sheet of cream stationery lies half-completed on the desk's surface, its edges curled from the morning humidity. Eleanor's careful script covers three-quarters of the page: *"Dearest Sister, your invitation to the garden luncheon is most kind, though I fear I must decline. The reason for this-"* The sentence ends there, a small blot of ink marking where the pen paused. Several false starts and crossed-out phrases litter the margins. *You nudge the paper toward the desk's edge until it flutters to the floor.* [if MineHalfFinishedCorrespondence > 1] The desk's surface shows only clean blotting paper and the faint impression of writing pressed into its fibers. On the floor beside Eleanor's bed, a crumpled sheet of stationery lies among the dust and scattered crumbs. It's safe to assume it would be too much of a bother for her to pick her message to Mary back up. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You drift into the narrow landing. Morning light filters through the spotless window, casting sharp shadows across wallpaper patterned with faded roses and trailing ivy. To your left, the door to Eleanor's [[bedroom->Mine Ending Bedroom Diorama]] stands ajar. On the right, the [[guest room->Mine Guest Room]] door remains firmly shut. Between them, a low wooden cabinet holds a collection of [[tintypes->Mine Tintypes]] in silver frames, their surfaces gleaming without dust. Behind you, a ramp of stairs lead to the [[🚪ground floor->Mine Stairway]].

She blinks several times, her vision unfocused without her spectacles. Her breathing shifts from the deep rhythm of sleep to shorter, more conscious pulls. A soft grunt escapes her throat as she attempts, and fails, to shift position - her bulk prevents more than the smallest adjustment. Her arms, heavy, droopy, move sluggishly as she brings her hands to rest on the dome of her stomach. Her throat works as she swallows, lips parting slightly. You follow her tongue as it darts out to wet her lips, leaving a thin trail of moisture across the chapped surface. A low rumble emanates from deep within her gut. Her hands press gently against the taut skin, fingers spreading wide across the stretch marks. Her head turns toward the side table, eyes tracking across the empty glasses and scattered crumbs. Her lips part as if to speak. *[[No need.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 2]]*

MineGuestRoom: MineGuestRoom + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineGuestRoom == 1] The guest room door fits flush against its frame, the brass handle polished but immobile. The keyhole shows scratches around its edges where metal has scraped against metal. A thin gap between door and frame reveals darkness beyond. The handle usually turns a quarter-inch before stopping with a solid click. The wood does not yield when pressure is applied. *You inspect the lock mechanism and sure enough, you find the now hardened clot of plaster you jammed into it, still wedged tight.* [if MineGuestRoom > 1] The guest room door fits flush against its frame, the brass handle polished but immobile. The keyhole shows scratches around its edges where metal has scraped against metal. A thin gap between door and frame reveals darkness beyond. The handle refuses to turn. The plaster remains lodged deep within the lock's mechanism, its shape blocking the pins. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Upper Floor', label: 'Back'}

MineTintypes: MineTintypes + 1 MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- [if MineTintypes == 1] The tintypes stand in a neat row along the cabinet, their silver frames polished to a mirror finish. Most face outward, displaying stern-faced figures in formal wear. Three photographs lie face-down against the cabinet's surface, their backing cards visible instead of their images. One upright photograph shows a younger girl posed between an elderly couple - the woman with a gentle smile, the man with a stiff stance. None share the girl's blonde hair. *You rotate the frame until it lies flat against the cabinet's surface, joining the others in darkness.* [if MineTintypes > 1] The tintypes stand in a neat row along the cabinet, their silver frames polished to a mirror finish. Four photographs now lie face-down against the cabinet's surface, their backing cards showing brown paper and photographers' stamps. [continue] {link to: 'Mine Ending Upper Floor', label: 'Back'}

MineObjects: MineObjects + 1 -- The stairway descends in polished wooden steps, each tread gleaming despite the faint layer of dust that has settled along their outer edges. The center of each step shows no wear pattern. The banister rail reflects the morning light, its surface smooth and undisturbed. Below, you know that the ground floor entryway stretches in shadow. That the hall table holds your vessel, among scattered papers and a lot of empty dishes. [if MineWardrobe > 0; append] That a measuring tape now lies coiled against the baseboards, struggling to snake its way back up. [continue] *With you around, Eleanor has little reason to venture downstairs these days.* {link to: 'Mine Ending Upper Floor', label: 'Back'}

config.style.page.color: "black on #f5e6d8" config.style.page.link.color: "#8b4513" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#7a3d12" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#b22222 on #f5e6d8" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8b4513" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8b4513" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a3d12" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#b22222 on #f5e6d8" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8b4513" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#b22222 on #f5e6d8" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#e6e6e6 on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#f5f5f5" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffcccc on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#f5f5f5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#f5f5f5" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#cccccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffcccc on #4a4a4a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#f5f5f5" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffcccc on #4a4a4a" -- *You seize the slice of chocolate cake from the side table, and swiftly press it against Eleanor's lips.* Her head jerks back slightly, eyes widening. A muffled sound emerges from her throat - protest? Surprise? The frosting smears across her mouth as you push forward. Her jaw resists, then opens reluctantly, allowing the mass of chocolate and cream to fill her mouth completely. Her cheeks bulge. She gags once, throat working against the sweet weight. Crumbs scatter from her lips onto her chin. Her breathing turns shallow through her nose. She swallows with effort. Her throat convulses. *[[It's not enough.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 2.5]]*

config.style.page.color: "black on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.link.color: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#7a2e2e" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#7a2e2e" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#8b3a3a" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#cd2626 on #f0d0d0" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#f0f0f0 on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e6b3b3" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e6b3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffcccc" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffdddd on #3a3a3a" -- *Immediately you tear another piece free, pressing it past her still-working lips.* This time her mouth opens without the initial resistance. Her eyes water slightly as she chews. The second slice follows. Her stomach gurgles loudly in protest - a wet, strained sound. She swallows anyway. The third slice disappears despite the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her breathing comes in short puffs between bites. *[[More.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 3]]*

config.style.page.color: "black on #ffb3b3" config.style.page.link.color: "#660000" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#4d0000" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#990000 on #ffb3b3" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#660000" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#660000" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#4d0000" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#990000 on #ffb3b3" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#660000" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#990000 on #ffb3b3" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ffb3b3 on #2a0a0a" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e68080" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ffaaaa on #2a0a0a" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e68080" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ffaaaa on #2a0a0a" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff9999" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ffaaaa on #2a0a0a" -- The fourth slice meets no resistance as Eleanor's mouth opens before the cake reaches her lips. Her jaw moves mechanically, processing the sweetness. The tears have stopped. Her breathing settles into shallow, measured pulls. *You lift the crystal glasses one by one, forcing the thick cream down her throat in steady swallows. The honey-wine follows, amber liquid coating her lips. The preserved fruits disappear between her teeth, their syrup joining the chocolate that streaks her chin.* *Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock...* Her stomach distends further with each addition. The skin stretches tight, taking on a glossy sheen. Purple veins become visible beneath the surface. Her belly button, once a deep fold, is now visible again as the upper belly swells above it. [[The final glass empties.->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 3.5]]

config.style.page.color: "black on #ff9999" config.style.page.link.color: "#4d0000" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#330000" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#800000 on #ff9999" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#4d0000" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#4d0000" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#330000" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#800000 on #ff9999" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#4d0000" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#800000 on #ff9999" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ff8080 on #200000" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff7777" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e65555" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff9999 on #200000" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff7777" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff7777" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e65555" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff9999 on #200000" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff7777" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff9999 on #200000" -- Her throat works once more, then stills. Her hands rest where gravity settles them against the mountainous curve of her middle. Her breathing comes in short puffs that barely manage lift her heavy, heavy chest. *A soft whimper escapes her throat as you force one of her breasts to hover upwards, just enough for you to look at her [[pocket watch->Mine Ending Eleanor Stirs 4]].*

config.style.page.color: "black on #ff8080" config.style.page.link.color: "#330000" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#1a0000" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#660000 on #ff8080" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#330000" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#330000" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#1a0000" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#660000 on #ff8080" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#330000" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#660000 on #ff8080" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ff9999 on #1a0000" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e04d4d" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#ff8888 on #1a0000" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e04d4d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#ff8888 on #1a0000" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#ff8888 on #1a0000" -- The pocket watch rests in the valley between Eleanor's breasts, its polished brass casing dulled by constant contact with her skin. The intricate floral motif, once sharp and precise, shows wear where the oils and moisture of Eleanor's skin have rubbed against the metal. The delicate chain disappears beneath the heavy curve of her breast, cutting a thin groove where it presses into her fat. You will the latch open. Behind the cracked crystal, its hands continue to work atop its porcelain dial... and would you look at that. Midday. *Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock...* [[Time a well deserved luncheon.->Mine Ending]]

config.style.page.color: "#ffcccc on #330000" config.style.page.link.color: "#cc6666" config.style.page.link.lineColor: "#b35555" config.style.page.link.active.color: "#330000 on #cc6666" config.style.page.link.active.lineColor: "#e08888" config.style.page.footer.link.color: "#cc6666" config.style.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#b35555" config.style.page.footer.link.active.color: "#330000 on #cc6666" config.style.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#e08888" config.style.page.header.link.active.color: "#330000 on #cc6666" config.style.dark.backdrop: "#222222" config.style.dark.page.color: "#ff9999 on #1a0000" config.style.dark.page.link.color: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.link.lineColor: "#e04d4d" config.style.dark.page.link.active.color: "#1a0000 on #ff6666" config.style.dark.page.link.active.lineColor: "#ffb3b3" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.color: "#ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.lineColor: "#e04d4d" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.color: "#1a0000 on #ff6666" config.style.dark.page.footer.link.active.lineColor: "#ffb3b3" config.style.dark.page.header.link.active.color: "#1a0000 on #ff6666" config.style.fontScaling.baseViewportWidth: 900 config.style.page.font: 'Bona Nova/serif 12' config.style.page.header.font: "12" config.style.page.header.link.font: "" config.style.page.footer.font: "10" config.style.page.footer.link.font: "" config.style.backdrop: "#563232" -- <div class="ending-container"> <div class="ending-number">2.9</div> <div class="ending-content"> <div class="ending-label">Ending</div> <div class="ending-title">Mine</div> </div> </div> {ascii backdrop: 'mine'}

For transparency's sake, I do want to make clear that I did employ the use of AIs in the development of this game. In the next few passages I go into more detail on what that actually means, but for those who just want the quick version, here's the **tl;dr**: *** AIs are lame and, at the time of this writing, actively becoming less creative. However, they are also getting better at following detailed, technical instructions. This works out: I employ them to write code when needed, format passages in the .twee format, and plan things out. They can also make for decent brainstorming buddies and great research assistants. They remain unreliable, forgetful, and uninspired. Their creative writing can - on occasion - be okay, but will always need a comprehensive rewriting. Also, I will never use AI-generated images. *** If you want to know more, or simply want to read my ramblings on the matter, [[go right ahead!->AI Disclaimer 2]] {link to: 'About', label: 'Back'}

"*So, Dark,*" I hear you say, "*What do you actually, specifically, use AI for?*" Well ain't I glad you asked. **Technical formatting**: Getting passages into the right .twee format, writing javascript and CSS code - the ASCII backdrop, the inventory system, the appearing dialogues were all painfully vibecoded (I'm sure you can tell lmao). **Research** - Victorian England details, historical context, social customs. What did people even eat? How did they dress? What did their daily routines look like? AIs clearly make for exceptional research assistants - very comprehensive (a bit too much, even), and you can ask follow-up questions. Nice! No notes here. **Brainstorming** - Instead of staring at a blank page wondering what to write next, I can bounce ideas around, ask it to ask me questions, get unstuck when I'm not sure where a scene should go. ...and that's it, really. I don't use it to make my writing sound more Victorian, or to generate finished prose, or anything like that. Now, I *did* experiment with the latter... well, [[we'll get to that.->AI Disclaimer 3]]

Now, between the first and second chapter, my approach changed a bit. First of all, I got better at writing prompts - there's a bit of an art to getting these things to follow your instructions. But to be fair, I mostly just feed (eheh) them a massive quantity of text from the game file itself! With that, they get the gist of it faster. More importantly though, I stopped trying to force poor Claude (as of the time of writing, Claude Sonnet 4) to fail writing finished content and started using it as a brainstorming partner instead. This sped up development *considerably*! Instead of banging my head against the wall trying to figure out what Eleanor should do during her lunch break, I could just ask the AI to throw some ideas at me, poke holes in the plot/scene, suggest complications I hadn't thought of. AIs are much better at generating raw material for you to work with than they are at creating polished final products. [[But really now, why don't I just use it for creative writing?->AI Disclaimer 4]]

They are just not good for it, at least not on their own. I do use them for creative writing *sometimes*! When I'm bored, or stuck, I'll see what Claude can come up with and then fix the result - usually ending up rewriting it completely, though not always. Still, as of July 2025, AIs are getting *less* creative over time. This isn't entirely their fault - they're being trained to follow instructions more reliably, which makes them better coding assistants and research tools and data analysts and a lot of other useful stuff. But it also makes them worse at making surprising creative leaps. An AI that's been trained to give you exactly what you ask for, and that is scared to stray off what is the most statistically likely thing you want, is less likely to surprise you with something unexpected, and interesting, and engaging, [[and overall cool.->AI Disclaimer 5]]

AI consistently screws up in predictable ways: It **overexplains everything** to the reader. Can't just show Eleanor adjusting her waistcoat - has to tell you she's doing it because she's gained weight and [[feels self-conscious about it.->AI Disclaimer 5.2]] Basically, it **tells instead of showing**. Any decent writer will tell you that's a big no-no.

The reality is that most text I generate gets heavily rewritten, if not scrapped entirely. Maybe 5% of the time, Claude will produce something genuinely interesting on the first try that I can actually use. The other 95% requires so much editing that it's often faster to just write the damn thing myself. When AI *does* contribute something worthwhile, it's usually a single interesting detail or perspective that I can build on. Like, maybe it suggests Eleanor notices the way her belly touches the desk, and I think "okay, yeah, that would happen uh? crazy how that works." *** Now, by the time I'm done editing, the final passage usually bears almost no resemblance to what the AI originally generated. I've changed the pacing, rewritten the descriptions, fixed the logic, added proper showing instead of telling, and generally made it not suck. [[It's collaborative. Sure.->AI Disclaimer 7]]

It **gets confused about basic logic**. Characters will forget things they just learned, or react to events that haven't happened yet, or somehow be in two places at once. Maybe you decided to generate a possible interaction with an item previously in the conversation! And now the wardrobe is on the floor, and Eleanor feels sad about her clothes being all over the place, and you tell it "no, no, that *can* happen if the player wants to, doesn't mean it has!", and Claude is like "Ah, yes. You are so right, I am a fool.", and you tell it to generate a passage about the desk, and now *you* are the fool because the desk has clothes on it too, and Eleanor is sad about it, and you are sad about it, and Claude isn't because they are the future heir of the Machine God's cursed throne and the divinely appointed fucker of your wife, [[so what do they really care.->AI Disclaimer 5.3]]

It **doesn't understand pacing**. Rushes through scenes to get to the point as fast as possible, skipping all the little details that actually make a scene feel real. And once again, it's **sycophantic**. Desperately wants to please you instead of serving the story, which means it'll avoid anything that might seem controversial or unexpected. Lame. I might dig through my notes and add some specific examples of this stuff in a future update, but I don't really keep unrevised, AI-generated text around? [[Why would I?->AI Disclaimer 6]]

I do think AIs can be creative under the right circumstances, though. I've experimented with it a lot! For example, I've tried using dice rolls to inject randomness into roleplaying session - forcing the AI to work with unexpected elements, giving it constraints it has to navigate around, that sort of thing. I've written a whole guide on it! You can read all about it {link to: 'https://darkeyev2.itch.io/char-roll-for-outcome', label: 'here'}. [[The results are... interesting!->AI Disclaimer 7.5]]

Sometimes genuinely surprising! But here's the thing: it's still my input that makes the difference. The AI isn't being creative on its own - it's still responding to the specific constraints and challenges I give it. But that just reinforces what I've kind of been saying up to this point: the human element is what drives everything. AI is a tool that can occasionally impress you if you know how to use it right, but it's not generating genuinely creative work without genuinely creative input. Without the latter, [[you will inevitably get...->AI Disclaimer 8]]

**AI slop.** Which is what I would classify the vast, vast majority of AI-generated images. For the sake of argument, let's leave the very fair ethical problems to the side for one moment. It's not that the technical quality is terrible, or that the hands that are imperfect, or too perfect - it's that every AI-generated image looks **exactly the same as every other AI-generated anime waifu currently flooding the internet**, and, because of that, **helping in making the latter worse for everyone involved**. It's over-commodified, cheap looking and annoying - I just don't like it. [[I don't want to add that to something I've actually put effort into.->AI Disclaimer 8.5]]

I'd much rather have no images at all than slap some generated artwork onto the game and call it a day. I do eventually want to add drawings, but I would much prefer to draw them myself. Maybe even find an actual artist to work with! That'd be fun. But alright then. [[Why am I telling you all this?->AI Disclaimer 9]]

Well, I think transparency about my methods is just basic honesty - if you're going to ask people to pay for your work, they deserve to know how it was made. That *has* to include being upfront about which parts had AI assistance and which didn't: the writing, the plotting, the characters, the game design, the concept - that's all me. I directed the making of some code too, I guess? But like, come on, that's not the same as outright writing it, which is why I'm probably going to give the custom inserts and modifiers I vibe-coded out on my Patreon at the free tier. Maybe on my Itch.io page, too. *** I liked working on this game :) As you can see I put a lot of thought into it. As of August 2025, this is where I stand. Thanks for reading! Bye!! I hope you enjoy the game!!! {link to: 'About', label: 'Back'} [note] Add a link to your patreon here. [continue]

config.header.right: " " -- <div class="day-heading">2 YEARS LATER</div> Eleanor's expedition to Brittany never departed. Funding, permits, a suitable team - all of it remained untouched as autumn turned to winter. Her resignation letter reached the Director's desk in November, citing "unforeseen personal circumstances" that required immediate attention. The archaeological world noted her withdrawal with polite disappointment. Colleagues sent letters of concern that went unanswered, while the Bristol Institute quietly redistributed her research materials to other projects. Your vessel had traveled with Eleanor from her modest flat to Richard's family estate in Gloucestershire, where limestone columns and Egyptian artifacts now share the same halls. The manor's acoustics differ from her former lodgings - [[higher ceilings, thicker walls, the distant sounds of a household in motion.->Chapter 2 Pregnancy Ending 3]]

The morning sun filters through tall windows into the estate's dining room. Dust motes drift through the light beams, settling on polished surfaces that show fingerprints and water rings from recent use. A clock on the mantelpiece strikes nine. The household should be stirring by now - footsteps overhead, voices from the kitchens, the usual sounds of servants attending to their duties. Instead, an unusual quiet persists through the manor's corridors. Your vessel rests where it was repositioned days ago, undisturbed on its small table near the window. [[You drift closer.->Pregnancy Ending Diorama]]

PregnancyEndingTurns: PregnancyEndingTurns + 1 -- [if PregnancyEndingTurns < 6] You hover within the estate's dining room. Your [[vessel->vessel pregnancy ending]] sits on a small mahogany table near tall [[windows->windows pregnancy ending]] that face the morning sun. The [[dining table->dining table pregnancy ending]] dominates the room's center, its surface scattered with breakfast remains. Against the far wall, an ornate [[sideboard->sideboard pregnancy ending]] displays a mixture of family china and Egyptian acquisitions. Along the walls, [[papyrus displays->papyrus displays]] hang in gilded frames between family portraits. Two [[canopic jars->canopic jar vases]] flank the sideboard. A leather portfolio of [[Richard's documents->Richard's documents]] rests open beside the morning correspondence. [if PregnancyEndingTurns >= 6] At last, [[Eleanor->Eleanor pregnancy ending]] enters through the doorway, her gait wide and careful as she navigates around the furniture. Her lapis-blue silk robe hangs open, the thin fabric revealing her navel's pronounced outward push and the heavy, rounded mass beneath - she pauses beside the breakfast table, one hand supporting her lower back. [if PregnancyEndingTurns == 1] *The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes the quarter-hour. Still no sounds from the kitchen quarters.* [if PregnancyEndingTurns == 3] *A breeze stirs the curtains, carrying the faint scent of roses from the estate gardens.* [if PregnancyEndingTurns == 5] *Footsteps echo briefly in the corridor above, then fade toward the upper floors.*

You focus your attention towards your vessel, resting on the small mahogany table near the window. It's a small statuette carved from blackened stone, with a faint sheen to its smooth surface. It depicts a heavily pregnant woman. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The tall windows face east, their glass streaked with raindrops from the previous night's rain. Morning sunlight filters through sheer curtains, casting wavering patterns across the dining table's surface. Beyond the glass, the estate's gardens stretch toward a line of oak trees, their leaves beginning to show autumn's first touches of gold. Condensation has gathered along the bottom panes where warm interior air meets the cooler glass. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The mahogany table dominates the room's center, its surface bearing the remnants of morning breakfast. Fine porcelain plates hold fragments of toast crusts and smears of orange marmalade. A teacup sits half-empty, its contents cold, with a thin film across the surface. Butter melts slowly in a small crystal dish, forming a yellow pool around the remaining pat. A jam pot rests open beside scattered correspondence, its silver spoon handle sticky with preserves. Crumbs trail across the polished wood, leading from the plate toward an open letter bearing the Bristol Institute letterhead, addressed to Eleanor. Thick felt pads have been placed along the table's sharp corners, their edges slightly frayed from use. A child's cup - small, white porcelain with painted rabbits - sits pushed toward the table's center, well out of reach from the edges. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Three framed papyrus fragments hang along the wall between oil paintings of stern-faced ancestors. Each piece rests in a gilded frame that matches the portraits flanking them, creating a uniform line despite their vastly different origins. The leftmost fragment displays hieroglyphic text in faded black ink, with small gaps where the papyrus has deteriorated. The center piece shows part of a funerary scene - figures in profile bearing offerings, their colors still visible in muted reds and blues. The rightmost fragment contains what appears to be mathematical calculations, rows of ancient numerals arranged in careful columns. Small brass plaques beneath each frame bear neat handwritten labels identifying their periods and provenance. The handwriting appears to be Eleanor's. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

You near the two limestone canopic jars: the left one bears the falcon-headed Qebehsenuef, while the right displays Imsety's human visage. You've been occasionally paying attention to Richard's ramblings. Both have been fitted with water and now hold fresh white roses, their stems visible through the translucent liquid. The flowers themselves appear recently arranged - their petals still firm, their leaves bright green without the brown edges that develop after several days. You notice thick felt pads have been placed beneath each jar, likely to prevent the heavy limestone from scratching the mahogany finish. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

The leather portfolio lies open beside a stack of correspondence, its contents scattered across the polished wood. Several sheets bear Richard's careful script - translation notes with hieroglyphic symbols sketched in the margins. A letter bearing Egyptian postal stamps rests on top, dated three weeks ago. The envelope shows Cairo postmarks, torn open hastily. The visible text mentions "My dearest Eleanor", "the heat here grows unbearable" and "excavation progress slower than anticipated." Beneath it, shipping manifests list recent artifact acquisitions with Alexandria customs stamps. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Eleanor reaches across the breakfast table toward a jam pot, the movement requiring her to shift her stance wider and stretch carefully around the curve of her belly. The lapis-blue silk drapes away from her body as she stretches, revealing how her breasts have grown heavy and full, their weight causing them to sway with her motion - the darkened areolae visible through the translucent fabric. Her fingers fumble briefly with the silver spoon, her reach shortened by the forward projection of her body. A soft grunt escapes her lips as she straightens, the effort requiring both hands pressed against the table's edge for leverage. As she does so the robe falls back against her form, the thin fabric outlining the pronounced dome that forces her spine into [[a pronounced arch->Pregnancy Ending 4]].

The dark oak sideboard stretches along the wall, its surface displaying a mixture of china and Egyptian artifacts. Family porcelain sits beside limestone scarab paperweights, while crystal decanters share space with small bronze figurines. A silver tea service occupies the left corner, its pieces tarnished from disuse. Beside it, Eleanor's archaeological journals rest in a neat stack. The sideboard's lower portion has been modified - sharp corners now bear thick padding secured with small brass tacks. A ceramic vase that once stood at the edge has been moved to the center, surrounded by items that cannot easily tip or break. {link to: 'Pregnancy Ending Diorama', label: 'Back'}

Her free hand moves instinctively to support the small of her back as she turns: this simple act of rotating toward the sideboard requires several small steps, her feet positioned wide for balance. Her breathing comes from high in her chest - shallow, controlled exhalations. [[She sets the spoon down onto the closest available surface before reaching for a letter from Richard's correspondence.->Pregnancy Ending 5]]

Eleanor turns toward the doorway, her movement requiring a pivot rather than a simple turn. You drift after her,. The silk clings momentarily to the curves of her rear before falling away, the fabric shifting across her thick thighs and child-bearing hips with each deliberate step. Her pace remains steady but measured, one hand trailing along the wall for support as she navigates toward the corridor. [[The infant's cries grow louder.->Pregnancy Ending 6]] She reaches the doorway and pauses, pressing both hands against the frame before continuing into the dim corridor beyond. You follow without hesitation, your essence drawn forward by an instinct that feels both ancient and newly familiar - a pull toward protection, toward guardianship of this household and all it contains.

She reaches the doorway and pauses, pressing both hands against the frame before continuing into the dim corridor beyond. You follow without hesitation, your essence drawn forward by an instinct that feels both ancient and newly familiar - a pull toward protection. [[Toward guardianship of this household and all it contains.->Pregnancy Ending]]

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ExpertConsultationAttended: true --

SlotThreeAttended: true -- The market spreads across the cobbled square in organized rows, with canvas awnings stretched between wooden poles that create patches of shade and sunlight. Eleanor pauses at the square's edge, adjusting her workbag's strap across her shoulder. A number of vendors call out prices from behind their stalls while customers move between the displays, their conversations mixing with the creak of cart wheels and the rustle of canvas in the breeze. The scents drift toward her - fresh bread from a bakery stall, roasted nuts, the earthy smell of root vegetables piled in wooden crates. A woman in a blue apron arranges pottery on a cloth-covered table - another brushes past Eleanor carrying a basket of root vegetables, followed by two children chasing after a escaped chicken. [[The market draws you both deeper.->Market Fair Cutscene 2 Router]]

[if CurrentDay == 'MONDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Monday Cutscene'} [if CurrentDay == 'TUESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Tuesday Cutscene'} [if CurrentDay == 'WEDNESDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Wednesday Cutscene'} [if CurrentDay == 'THURSDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Thursday Cutscene'} [if CurrentDay == 'FRIDAY'] {embed passage: 'Market Fair Friday Cutscene'}

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- Eleanor arrives as vendors settle into the afternoon rhythm. You catch the sight of a fishmonger scraping ice shavings from his counter while arranging the day's remaining catch. The baker's display shows gaps where loaves have sold, but several brown rounds remain on wooden boards, their crusts darkened by hours under the canvas. The baker tears a piece from a day-old loaf, offering it without ceremony. Eleanor purchases what remains of the loaf, breaking pieces with her fingers as she walks. [[The crust crumbles between her teeth.->Market Fair Cutscene 3]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 1 ExpeditionFunds: ExpeditionFunds + 1 -- A woman with clay beneath her fingernails arranges pottery on a wooden table draped with rough linen. You briefly wonder why the two of you have stopped here, but then you see it: a shallow bowl near the table's edge - crude work, thumb-smoothed rather than wheel-turned, with scratched markings visible around the rim. Ancient-looking. Eleanor lifts it, turning it toward the light streaming through the canvas above. The symbols catch the afternoon sun. Parallel lines intersected by short marks, forming patterns that mirror the rubbings folded in her workbag. The potter names her price without looking up from arranging larger vessels. Eleanor counts coins from her purse, wrapping the bowl in her handkerchief before settling it carefully among her papers - [[a new artifact to convince the commission with.->Market Fair Cutscene 3]]

DayCalories: DayCalories + 5 -- Eleanor navigates between knots of people, her movement guided by the press of bodies and the magnetic pull of food stalls radiating outward from the square's center. A chestnut vendor thrusts a paper cone into her hands before she can protest, the roasted nuts burning her fingertips through their shells. She cracks them with her teeth, extracting the soft meat while continuing forward. At a pastry cart, golden-brown turnovers glisten under glass, their surfaces dusted with coarse sugar - again, the vendor slides one onto a small plate without waiting for her order. It's relentless. A woman with a flour-white apron presses samples of dried fruit into her palm - another merchant offers small cakes studded with currants, their surfaces sticky with honey that adheres to her gloves. Each vendor's enthusiasm is more persuasive than the last, until her pockets hold a lot of empty wrappers and her stomach [[sits much heavier than intended->Market Fair Cutscene 3]].

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 RichardRelationship: RichardRelationship + 1 -- You recognizes Richard's tall frame bent over a table of British ceramics, his squared spectacles reflecting the afternoon light as he examines a handled jug. He turns the piece repeatedly, tracing raised patterns with his index finger, his expression shifting from concentration to mild embarrassment as Eleanor's shadow falls across the table. He sets down the jug and gestures toward the markings. Eleanor lifts the piece, running her thumb along the raised spirals while explaining the technique used to create such patterns. A tea vendor with a wheeled cart approaches their table. Richard purchases two cups and a plate of plain biscuits, setting them between the pottery displays. Eleanor reaches for a biscuit while continuing her explanation, the sweet crumbs catching on her gloves as she illustrates the differences between wheel-thrown and [[hand-built techniques->Market Fair Cutscene 3]].

DayCalories: DayCalories + 2 -- The market shows signs of conclusion - vendors packing unsold goods, awnings being folded, the crowd thinning to occasional stragglers. A baker loads brown loaves into a wooden crate, their surfaces darkened beyond the morning's golden color. He glances up as Eleanor approaches, then reaches beneath his counter to withdraw a meat pie wrapped in greased paper. The pastry's surface has cracked during the day's display, revealing glimpses of filling beneath. He knows this, and names a price reduced by half. The square's emptiness becomes more pronounced with each packed stall. Eleanor finishes the pie as the last vendor wheels his cart toward the side street - soon enough there will only be scattered paper and the smell of extinguished [[cooking fires->Market Fair Cutscene 3]].

MarketVisited: true -- Finally, Eleanor reaches the square's far edge where the market gives way to residential streets. She adjusts her workbag, now slightly heavier than when she arrived, and checks her pocket watch against the slant of light. The sounds of the market fade with each step - voices becoming murmur, cart wheels becoming distant rumble. {plainlink to: 'Work Day Logic', label: 'Back towards the flat, then.'}

[[museum]] [[transformation]] [[hieroglyph]] [[salon]] [[temporal]] [[occult]] [[lace]] [[abundance]] [[wraiths]] [[feast]] [[hunger]] [[loading]] [[aether]] [[chronos]] [[echoes]] [[distortion]] [[luckycharm]] [[roseschocolates]] [[unluckycharm]] [[fertilityidol]] [[mine]] {ascii backdrop: 'transformation'}

{ascii backdrop: 'museum'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'transformation'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'hieroglyph'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'salon'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'temporal'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'occult'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'lace'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'filigree'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'abundance'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'wraiths'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'feast'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'hunger'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'loading'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'mary'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'aether'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'chronos'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'echoes'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'distortion'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'luckycharm'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'roseschocolates'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'unluckycharm'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'fertilityidol'} [[Back->Patterns]]

{ascii backdrop: 'mine'} [[Back->Patterns]]

[inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether 2]]

[inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel a faint, resonating hum...->Bookshelves Director Aether 3]]

[inventory for AetherAbility] [[You feel an intense, unstable resonance...->Gas Lamp Aether Teleport 1]]

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Spirit Daemon