costa sul

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<<nobr>><<link "𓆝 𓆟 𓆞">><<run Engine.backward();>><</link>>  <span>welcome home, guppy</span>  <span style="grid-column:3;"><<link "𓆝 𓆟 𓆞">><<run Engine.forward();>><</link>></span><</nobr>>

<<nobr>><<link "settings">><<run UI.settings();>><<toggleclass "#menuLinks" "unstow">><<toggleclass "#header" "shadow">><<toggleclass "#menu" "glow">><</link>> <<link "saves">><<run UI.saves();>><<toggleclass "#menuLinks" "unstow">><<toggleclass "#menu" "glow">><<toggleclass "#header" "shadow">><</link>>  <<link "diary">><<toggleclass "#menuLinks" "unstow">><<toggleclass "#header" "shadow">><<toggleclass "#menu" "glow">><<goto "Diary">><</link>>  <<link "restart">><<run UI.restart();>><<toggleclass "#menuLinks" "unstow">><<toggleclass "#header" "shadow">><<toggleclass "#menu" "glow">><</link>> <<link "credits">><<run Dialog.create("Credits").wikiPassage("Credits").open();>><<toggleclass "#menuLinks" "unstow">><<toggleclass "#header" "shadow">><<toggleclass "#menu" "glow">><</link>><</nobr>>

<div id="charInfo" class="character"> <<nobr>><h3><center>[[Profile|diary_profile]]</center></h3> <h3><center>[[Stats|diary_stats]]</center></h3> <h3><center>[[Relationships|diary_relationships]]</center></h3><</nobr>> </div>

<p>Credits go here! Please do //''not''// delete my credit. You can use the template in the commented HTML below the {{{<hr>}}} to add more!</p> <ul> <li>//Leonora// UI Template by <a href="https://lapinlunaire-games.neocities.org/" target="_blank">LapinLunaireGames</a></li> </ul> <hr>  <ul> <li><a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/a-stained-glass-window-with-a-bird-on-it-M3mrBelLTrQ" target="_blank">A Stained Glass Window with a Bird on It</a> by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@david_bumg" target="_blank">David Bumgardner</a> via Unsplash</li> <li><a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/a-circular-stained-glass-window-in-a-building-yKo72F0e_eE" target="_blank">A Circular Stained Glass Window</a> by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@dvvesp" target="_blank">Daniel Espínola</a> via Unsplash</li> <li>clover window by Imogen Oh from <a href="https://thenounproject.com/browse/icons/term/clover-window/" target="_blank" title="clover window Icons">Noun Project</a> (CC BY 3.0) / Cropped from original</li> </ul>

<<nobr>><span id="ascend">  <<link "ଳ">>  <<toggleclass "#menuLinks" "unstow">> <<toggleclass "#header" "shadow">> <<toggleclass "#menu" "glow">> <<run setup.capo();>> <<if not _clicked>> <<run setup.mesura();>> <<set _clicked to true>> <</if>> <</link>> </span><</nobr>>

<h1> Costa Sul</h1>  <div id="splashLinks"> [[Play|Passage1]] <<if (Save.browser.size > 0)>> <<link "Load">> <<run UI.saves();>> <</link>> <</if>> <<link "Settings">><<run UI.settings();>><</link>> <<link "Credits">><<run Dialog.create("Credits").wikiPassage("Credits").open();>><</link>> </div>

<center><h3>COSTA SUL</h3></center><b>//COSTA SUL//</b> is an 18+ slice-of-life interactive novel where you step into the shoes of a main character who is completely overwhelmed by life. On the bright side, having a meltdown in a coastal paradise is an absolute upgrade! Just watch your step with the crabs, though; they've got zero chill and a serious pinching problem. <b>//DISCLAIMER//</b> – This is rated 18+ for language, sexual content, and the kind of habits your doctor would disapprove of. Full content warnings in the link below. Ready to dive into a summer you'll never forget? <<nobr>><div class="choices">  <b><center><<link '<div class="choice-item">Content warnings</div>' 'content warnings'>><</link>></center></b> <b><center><<link '<div class="choice-item">Start your story</div>' 'guide'>><</link>></center></b> </div><</nobr>>

<h1>//Prologue – Mom’s on… the roof?//</h1> “//You have reached the voicemail of–//" You end the call, generously sparing the recording the exhaustion of rejecting you again. You stand there holding the phone, wondering if you genuinely expected the robot to suddenly develop pity for you by round ten. //This is weird//. Mom usually answers by ring two, in fact, there were a few times she picked up even before it rang. She likes to call it 'mother's intuition', but you're fairly certain she just permanently camps by the phone waiting for your call. Yet here you are. Seventy-two hours of radio silence. Maybe the hostel is already inundated by the annual tourist invasion? Still, even when she's buried in laundry and check-ins, Mom treats her morning spam like a holy ritual: a spam of low-resolution sunsets and quotes Einstein definitely never said. Now, there isn’t even a forward message from that concerningly cheerful group chat, 🌻 //Happiness Is Not Optional// 🌻. You chew on your lip, a flicker of unease settling in your chest. <b>[[Something is definitely off.|prologue_02]]</b>

/% ------------------------ GUPPY ------------------------ %/ <<set $name to "">> <<set $name2 to "">> <<set $lastname to "">> <<set $mom_name to "">> <<set $gender to "">> <<set $child to "">> <<set $they to "">> <<set $them to "">> <<set $their to "">> <<set $theirs to "">> <<set $themself to "">> <<set $s to "">> <<set $are to "">> <<set $were to "">> <<set $have to "">> <<set $plural to false>> <<set $eyeshape to "">> <<set $eyecolor to "">> <<set $feature to "">> <<set $pasthaircut to "">> <<set $pasthaircolor to "">> <<set $haircut to "">> <<set $haircolor to "">> <<set $hairtexture to "">> <<set $skintone to "">> <<set $bodytype to "">> <<set $height to "">> /* -------- PROLOGUE----------- */ <<set $old_reputation = "">> <<set $questionsAsked to 0>> <<set $asked_dog to false>> <<set $asked_jeep to false>> <<set $asked_weather to false>> <<set $asked_cherub to false>> <<set $asked_news to false>> <<set $momReply to "">> <<set $roofReply to "">> <<set $approach to "">> <<set $helmet to "">> /% ------------------------ STATS: PERSONALITY ChapelR Meter Macro set up ------------------------ %/ <<set $statsunlock to false>> <<set $bold = 50>> <<set $max_bold = 100>> <<newmeter 'Bold' $bold>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $playful = 50>> <<set $max_playful = 100>> <<newmeter 'Playful' $playful>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $diplomatic = 50>> <<set $max_diplomatic = 100>> <<newmeter 'Diplomatic' $diplomatic>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $competitive = 50>> <<set $max_competitive = 100>> <<newmeter 'Competitive' $competitive>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $carefree = 50>> <<set $max_carefree = 100>> <<newmeter 'Carefree' $carefree>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $clumsy = 50>> <<set $max_clumsy = 100>> <<newmeter 'Clumsy' $clumsy>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $sceptic = 50>> <<set $max_sceptic = 100>> <<newmeter 'Sceptic' $sceptic>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $optimist = 50>> <<set $max_optimist = 100>> <<newmeter 'Optimist' $optimist>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $emotional = 50>> <<set $max_emotional = 100>> <<newmeter 'Emotional' $emotional>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $nostalgic = 50>> <<set $max_nostalgic = 100>> <<newmeter 'Nostalgic' $nostalgic>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>> <<set $flirtatious = 50>> <<set $max_flirtatious = 100>> <<newmeter 'Flirtatious' $flirtatious>> <<colors '#777' '#777' '#333'>> <<sizing '100%' '1.2em'>> <</newmeter>>

<b>//COSTA SUL// contains the following themes:</b> ‧ Explicit language ‧ Explicit sexual themes ‧ Alcohol use ‧ Smoking ‧ Discussions of grief ‧ Dysfunctional family dynamics ‧ Mentions of anxiety / mental health ‧ Breakups Skip options will be available for sensitive content. Please look after yourself! <<nobr>><div class="choices"> <b><center><<link '<div class="choice-item">Start your story</div>' 'guide'>><</link>></center></b> </div><</nobr>>

In <b>//COSTA SUL//</b>, special choices shape your character and your relationships. The symbols below indicate the nature of each choice: <b>//Filled Heart// (♥):</b> Select this if you want to be physically affectionate with a character. <b>//Transparent Heart// (♡):</b> Select this if you want to flirt or bond emotionally without getting physical. <b>//Cross// (X):</b> Select this if you want to end the romance. Warning: This action is permanent and cannot be undone. <<nobr>> <div class="choices"> <b><center><<link '<div class="choice-item">Welcome home, guppy. Enjoy your story.</div>' 'quote'>><</link>></center></b> </div><</nobr>>

<center>//“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.”// <b>Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon</b></center> <<nobr>> <div class="choices"> <b><center><<link '<div class="choice-item">Prologue</div>' 'prologue_01'>><</link>></center></b> </div><</nobr>>

You kick off your shoes; one thuds against the wall, while the other is promptly claimed by the hallway’s shadow realm. You drag your feet toward the kitchen, but the silence you were craving is punctured by a metallic rasp drifting from the living room. You groan. //Great.// The TV is still on. You can almost see the dollars fluttering out of your bank account and straight into the power company’s pockets. Between the rising rates and your habit of leaving 'background noise' in every room, your utility bill is starting to look like a car payment. You scour the counter, shoving aside a depressing paper trail: a tuition statement you’re too scared to open, a final notice for a library book you’ve definitely lost, and a 'Buy One, Get Two' pizza coupon for a place that went bankrupt during your freshman year. Nothing. A hollow, familiar dread washes over you as your eyes drift toward the humming appliance in the corner. //Shit//. Did you put the remote in the fridge <b>again</b>? It’s a charming habit you’ve developed: filing daily essentials in the one place they definitely don't belong. You’ve already recovered your glasses from a head of lettuce and a calculator chilling next to the hummus. At this point, finding the remote next to the pickles wouldn't even be a surprise; it would just be another Tuesday. <b>[[You sigh and pull open the fridge door.|prologue_03]]</b>

The remote is conspicuously absent from the vegetable drawer this time. It’s a small victory for your dwindling brain cells. Still, you don't move. You just stand there, letting the fridge’s 4°C breath frost your eyelashes. You linger a second too long, mostly because the cold is the only thing you’ve felt in weeks that wasn't a caffeine induced heart palpitation. You close your eyes. Your final exam was this morning. You survived it on a diet of triple shot espressos and academic spite, powering through four all nighters and a library bathroom breakdown that you're pretending never happened. And just like that, the world has finally stopped screaming. You’re currently using the fridge as a low-budget Arctic refuge, trying to remember what life was like before your personality was replaced by a stack of flashcards. The only question left is whether you’re heading to the bar or straight into a three-day self imposed coma. The torture is done. How did it actually go? <<nobr>><div class="choice"> <<link "You nailed it. You walked out early, didn't look back, and successfully avoided the post-exam '\did I miss a page?\' panic in the hallway." "prologue_04">><</link>> <br> <<link "It went well enough. You didn't leave feeling like your life was over, which is a significant upgrade from past exam." "prologue_04">><</link>> <br> <<link "You were brilliant in some sections and utterly hallucinating in others. It all depends on how much the professor values creative interpretation." "prologue_04">><</link>> <br> <<link "You managed to spell your own name wrong. It’s important to establish a baseline of incompetence early on so there's nowhere to go but up." "prologue_04">><</link>> <br> <<link "You invented several new laws of physics today. Whether the department appreciates your innovative contribution to science remains to be seen." "prologue_04">><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You let the door fall shut with a soft, magnetic thud. The fridge is a collage of photos, courtesy of your mother. She’d insisted on the makeover after visiting in October and declaring the apartment looked less like a home and more like a sterile waiting roomm, so she filled the door with whatever magnets she could find in your junk drawer. A wide-eyed guppy, a permanent nod to that childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, pins the corner of a photo that catches your eye. It’s a 5x7 taken years ago in Costa Sul. You were seven, maybe eight, you think. You stare at your younger self for a long moment, the hum of the kitchen fading into the background. You were a force of nature back then, weren't you? Someone who spent their days chasing waves instead of deadlines. <b>What does the photo show?</b> <<nobr>><div class="choice"> <<link "You, beaming a gap-toothed smile from a hospital bed with your arm in a fresh cast. You look unreasonably pleased with the whole situation." "prologue_05">><<set $old_reputation to 'broken arm'>><<set $optimist += 5>><</link>> <br> <<link "You, posing dramatically in front of a mirror with a high-fashion pout, showcasing the jagged bowl cut you’d just given yourself with craft scissors." "prologue_05">><<set $old_reputation to 'fashionista'>><<set $bold += 5>><</link>> <br> <<link "You, thrusting a disgruntled crab toward the lens with a triumphant grin, looking completely unfazed by the snapping claws inches from your nose." "prologue_05">><<set $old_reputation to 'scientist'>><<set $carefree += 5>><</link>> <br> <<link "You, covered head-to-toe in paint, proudly showcasing the \'mural\' you'd inaugurated on the pristine door of your mother's hostel." "prologue_05">><<set $old_reputation to 'artist'>><<set $emotional += 5>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<if $old_reputation is 'broken arm'>>You’re sitting bolt upright in the hospital bed, pale as a ghost, your arm swallowed by a cast nearly the size of your torso and you are //beaming//. Gap-toothed. Genuinely delighted. It looks as if breaking a bone was the absolute highlight of your summer, possibly your year. Your mom is perched beside the bed, smiling for the camera, but only just. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen from hours of crying, yet there you are: missing tooth, fractured radius, looking like you’ve just been handed a trophy. You wore a beach towel as a cape for three weeks after that and informed the entire neighborhood that the plaster had gifted you Titanium Strength. You were so committed to the bit that you spent the next month trying to convince your mom that bionic people were exempt from eating broccoli. Heh. Good times. <<elseif $old_reputation is 'fashionista'>>The haircut was a geometric nightmare, one side significantly more "experimental" than the other, but you were unbothered. Chin up. Eyes on the prize. You rounded out the look with oversized sunglasses and a leopard-print beach towel draped like high-end couture. Behind you, your mom is caught in the photo midway through a failing attempt to look disappointed. You carried that jagged bowl cut onto the school stage for a play where your only job was to be a wall. While your peers huddled nervously behind their cardboard, you treated your stationary position with the confidence of a runway model. Heh. Good times. <<elseif $old_reputation is 'scientist'>>The crab was roughly the size of a disgruntled chihuahua and possessed a temperament to match. You held it approximately four inches from the camera lens, your face pressed dangerously close to its snapping pincers. You wore an expression of clinical fascination that suggested you had found your true calling as a self-appointed crustacean expert. In the background, blurred into a soft focus of maternal panic, your mother’s hand was clamped over her mouth. A silent, desperate prayer that you wouldn't lose a nostril before lunch. You spent the rest of the afternoon delivering a series of unsolicited seminars along the shoreline. You cornered the ice cream man to inform him that a crab’s heart is located in its back; he seemed to find your biological insights significantly less compelling than the line of annoying kids behind you. When he managed to escape, you pivoted to the surfers. No one was safe from your lectures on marine life. Heh. Good times. <<else>>The mural was a chaotic explosion of primary colors, stretching as high as your four-foot frame could reach. It adorned the once-pristine door of your mother’s hostel, a surface you had apparently decided was far too minimalist for its own good. You stood there with your chest puffed out, wearing an expression of pure artistic pride. In the background, your mother had one hand braced against the doorframe, her eyes darting between the ruined woodwork and her psychedelic rainbow of a child. Beneath that look of profound exhaustion, however, you could see her almost admiring the senseless smears. That afternoon, you took it upon yourself to explain the heavy symbolism of the blue blobs to a confused German tourist who just wanted his room key. You’ve always had an innate drive to leave your mark on the world, even if it usually ended with a very long, very soapy scrub in the bathtub. Heh. Good times. <</if>> The photo feels like a relic from a version of the world that didn't know how to be complicated. This was before the city’s skull splitting noise and before the all-nighters started blurring together into one long, academic fever dream. You’re staring at a kid who was blissfully unaware that, one day, 'tired' could eventually become a baseline for existing <<nobr>><div class="choice"> <<link "You were a happy little girl back then." "prologue_06">><<set $gender to 'woman'>><<set $child to 'daughter'>><</link>> <br> <<link "You were a happy little boy back then." "prologue_06">><<set $gender to 'man'>><<set $child to 'son'>><</link>> <br> <<link "You were a happy little child back then." "prologue_06">><<set $gender to 'nonbinary'>><<set $child to 'child'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<nobr>>Even then, you already knew who you were; you knew what your pronouns would be long before you had to explain them to anyone else. <div class="choice"> <<link "She/Her">> <<set $they to "she">> <<set $them to "her">> <<set $their to "her">> <<set $theirs to "hers">> <<set $themself to "herself">> <<set $s to "s">> <<set $are to "is">> <<set $were to "was">> <<set $have to "has">> <<goto "prologue_07">> <</link>> <br> <<link "He/Him">> <<set $they to "he">> <<set $them to "him">> <<set $their to "his">> <<set $theirs to "his">> <<set $themself to "himself">> <<set $s to "s">> <<set $are to "is">> <<set $were to "was">> <<set $have to "has">> <<goto "prologue_07">> <</link>> <br> <<link "They/Them">> <<set $they to "they">> <<set $them to "them">> <<set $their to "their">> <<set $theirs to "theirs">> <<set $themself to "themself">> <<set $s to "">> <<set $are to "are">> <<set $were to "were">> <<set $have to "have">> <<goto "prologue_07">> <</link>> <br> [[Custom Pronouns|Custom Pronouns]] </div><</nobr>>

You lean in closer, squinting at the details as your eyes dart between your younger self and your mother. You were her double in every feature, sharing her exact <b><<cycle "$eyeshape">> <<option "almond">> <<option "round">> <<option "hooded">> <<option "sharp">> <</cycle>></b> eye shape. Your eye color, however, was unmistakably your father’s, or so everyone who knew him says. It is a deep... <<nobr>><div class="choice"> <<link "ocean blue" "prologue_08">><<set $eyecolor to 'blue'>><</link>> <br> <<link "sea glass green" "prologue_08">><<set $eyecolor to 'green'>><</link>> <br> <<link "wet sand brown" "prologue_08">><<set $eyecolor to 'brown'>><</link>> <br> <<link "obsidian black" "prologue_08">><<set $eyecolor to 'black'>><</link>> <br> <<link "sea foam grey" "prologue_08">><<set $eyecolor to 'grey'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

Enter your pronouns. Subjective (ex. he, she, they): <<textbox "$they" "" autofocus>> Objective (ex. him, her, them): <<textbox "$them" "">> Possessive adjective (ex. his, her, their): <<textbox "$their" "">> Possessive pronoun (ex. his, hers, theirs): <<textbox "$theirs" "">> Reflexive (ex. himself, herself, themself): <<textbox "$themself" "">> Are your pronouns plural? (ex. they/them = yes) <<radiobutton "$plural" true>> Yes <<radiobutton "$plural" false>> No <<button "Confirm" "prologue_07">> <<if $plural>> <<set $s to "">> <<set $are to "are">> <<set $were to "were">> <<set $have to "have">> <<else>> <<set $s to "s">> <<set $are to "is">> <<set $were to "was">> <<set $have to "has">> <</if>> <</button>>

You even inherited her <b><<cycle "$feature">> <<option "scattering of freckles">> <<option "beauty marks">> <<option "dimples">> <<option "distinct birthmarks">> <<option "clear skin">> <</cycle>></b>, which adorn your... <<nobr>><div class="choice"> <<link "fair porcelain complexion" "prologue_09">><<set $skintone to 'porcelain'>><</link>> <br> <<link "fair ivory complexion" "prologue_09">><<set $skintone to 'ivory'>><</link>> <br> <<link "warm bronze complexion" "prologue_09">><<set $skintone to 'bronze'>><</link>> <br> <<link "warm olive complexion" "prologue_09">><<set $skintone to 'olive'>><</link>> <br> <<link "rich umber complexion" "prologue_09">><<set $skintone to 'umber'>><</link>> <br> <<link "rich ebony complexion" "prologue_09">><<set $skintone to 'ebony'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

Back then, your hair was <b><<cycle "$pasthaircut">> <<option "short">> <<option "buzzed">> <<option "shoulder-length">> <<option "down your back">> <</cycle>></b> and an unique shade of... <<if $old_reputation is "fashionista">>That was before that horrible haircut, that is.<</if>><<nobr>><div class="choice"> <<link "Jet black" "prologue_10">><<set $pasthaircolor to 'black'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Dark brown" "prologue_10">><<set $pasthaircolor to 'dark-brown'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Light brown" "prologue_10">><<set $pasthaircolor to 'light-brown'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Auburn" "prologue_10">><<set $pasthaircolor to 'auburn'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Dirty blonde" "prologue_10">><<set $pasthaircolor to 'dirty-blonde'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Golden blonde" "prologue_10">><<set $pasthaircolor to 'golden-blonde'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

You were clearly her flesh and blood. But some things have shifted since then. Your frame became <b><<cycle "$bodytype">> <<option "slender">> <<option "lean">> <<option "athletic">> <<option "muscular">> <<option "curvy">> <<option "average">> <<option "soft">> <<option "stocky">> <<option "broad">> <</cycle>></b>, and you are... <<nobr>><div class="choice"> <<link "Very short (4'10\" – 5'2\"): Built like a Minion and winning at life solely because you can still fit into the cheap sneakers in the kids' section." "prologue_11">><<set $height to 'very short'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Short (5'3\" – 5'6\"): Still no threat to the top shelf of the pantry, but at least you can see over the roof of a Prius without standing on your toes." "prologue_11">><<set $height to 'short'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Average (5'7\" – 5'10\"): The default setting. Perfectly designed to blend into any crowd without ever being asked to reach for something or move out of the way." "prologue_11">><<set $height to 'average'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Tall (5'11\" – 6'3\"): A lighthouse fated to spend your life answering questions about basketball and apologizing to the people sitting behind you at the cinema." "prologue_11">><<set $height to 'tall'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Very tall (6'4\" – 6'7\"): A human skyscraper. You live in a world of \"how's the weather up there?\" jokes and a perpetual, losing battle with economy-class legroom and standard doorframes." "prologue_11">><<set $height to 'very tall'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<center>Nothing to see here yet! Continue playing <b>COSTA SUL</b> to unlock your profile.</center>

<<if $statsunlock>> <center><b>How do you interact with others?</b></center> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Bold ($bold%)</span> <span>Shy (<<print 100 - $bold>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Bold' `$bold/ $max_bold`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $bold > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $bold < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Playful ($playful%)</span> <span>Sincere (<<print 100 - $playful>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Playful' `$playful/ $max_playful`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $playful > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $playful < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Diplomatic ($diplomatic%)</span> <span>Blunt (<<print 100 - $diplomatic>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Diplomatic' `$diplomatic/ $max_diplomatic`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $diplomatic > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $diplomatic < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Competitive ($competitive%)</span> <span>Collaborative (<<print 100 - $competitive>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Competitive' `$competitive/ $max_competitive`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $competitive > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $competitive < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <center><b>How do you act in general?</b></center> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Carefree ($carefree%)</span> <span>Cautious (<<print 100 - $carefree>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Carefree' `$carefree/ $max_carefree`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $carefree > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $carefree < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Clumsy ($clumsy%)</span> <span>Graceful (<<print 100 - $clumsy>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Clumsy' `$clumsy/ $max_clumsy`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $clumsy > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $clumsy < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Sceptic ($sceptic%)</span> <span>Supertitious (<<print 100 - $sceptic>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Sceptic' `$sceptic/ $max_sceptic`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $sceptic > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $sceptic < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Optimist ($optimist%)</span> <span>Cynic (<<print 100 - $optimist>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Optimist' `$optimist/ $max_optimist`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $optimist > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $optimist < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Emotional ($emotional%)</span> <span>Rational(<<print 100 - $emotional>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Emotional' `$emotional/ $max_emotional`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $emotional > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $emotional < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <center><b>How do you act during renovations?</b></center> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Nostalgic ($nostalgic%)</span> <span>Forward-looking (<<print 100 - $nostalgic>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Nostalgic' `$nostalgic/ $max_nostalgic`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $nostalgic > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $nostalgic < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>> <center><b>How do you act in a romantic moment?</b></center> <<nobr>><div id="stat-title"> <span>Flirtatious ($flirtatious%)</span> <span>Earnest(<<print 100 - $flirtatious>>%)</span> </div> <<showmeter 'Flirtatious' `$flirtatious/ $max_flirtatious`>> <br> <center><div class="statbody"> <<if $flirtatious > 60>> You lean towards being warm and open. People find you easy to approach. <<elseif $flirtatious < 40>> You lean towards being reserved. Not unfriendly, just quieter than most. <<else>> You balance warmth and distance depending on the moment. <</if>></div></center><</nobr>><</if>> <<if not $statsunlock>> <center>Nothing to see here yet! Continue playing <b>COSTA SUL</b> to unlock your stats.</center> <</if>>

<center>Nothing to see here yet! Continue playing <b>COSTA SUL</b> to unlock your relationships.</center>

There’s another photo of the two of you tucked near the top of the fridge, partially obscured by a pizza coupon. It’s from the afternoon before you left: She’s grinning in the shot, holding up a handmade a "Good Luck" card where she’d scribbled the etymology of your name in the margins, like the opening credits of a saga she knew you would star in. She insists your name translates to //'child of the sea'// in some poetic dead dialect, but you’ve always suspected she just lifted it from a soap opera she binged while she was pregnant with you. <<nobr>>What’s the name she gave you? <div class="choice"> <<link "Yara" "nickname">><<set $name to "Yara">><</link>> <br> <<link "Cordelia" "nickname">><<set $name to "Cordelia">><</link>> <br> <<link "Dylan" "nickname">><<set $name to "Dylan">><</link>> <br> <<link "Kai" "nickname">><<set $name to "Kai">><</link>> <br> <<link "River" "nickname">><<set $name to "River">><</link>> <br> <<link "None of these, your name is..." "input name">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

To everyone else, you were <<if $nickname is true>>$name2<<else>>$name<</if>>, $mom_name $lastname's $child. But to your mom, you were the one she’d fiercely defend against anything, even when you were entirely in the wrong. Her lifelong dedication to 'ethics and accountability' always took a highly convenient vacation the moment someone looked at you funny. Hypocritical? Absolutely. Did you ever complain about it? Not a chance. Since leaving, there wasn’t a single day you wouldn’t talk on the phone. Hearing her voice always made you feel like you were right back home, even if just for a few seconds. You’re staring at her photo with such intensity that you’re practically trying to psychically nag her into finally answer your calls. You glare at the fridge, your eyes stinging and watering from the effort. It’s a ridiculous, one-sided duel: a sleep-deprived student versus a faded memory held in place by a plastic taco magnet. Suddenly, <b>[[your phone vibrates.|prologue_13]]</b>

<div style="text-align: center;"> <<timed 1s>> <span class="ease-in">Shaky footage from a home security system shows high-velocity winds bending ancient trees until they snap.</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in">A heavy downpour sends an angry sea surging over coastal roads, swallowing the stretch of sand.</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in"><b>You know that beach.</b></span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in">You’ve walked that shoreline a hundred times at 2:00 AM, surrounded by friends you never imagined a future without.</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in">The news anchor’s voice, polished and far too calm, cuts through the static:</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in">"– coastal community of <b>[[Costa Sul|prologue_15]]</b>,"</span> <</timed>> </div>

<div style="text-align: center;"> <<timed 1s>> <span class="ease-in">Your gut plummets down a sheer cliff, slamming into bedrock.</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in">"–catastrophic storm aftermath, with a complete black-out of communications, for the past seventy-two hours. Residents remain entirely unreachable–"</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in">The silence in the living room is so heavy it rings in your ears, your head spinning with every tragic, worst-case scenario.</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in">The breaking-news banner flashes a sudden, violent red. It takes four tries for your eyes to finally pull the words into focus:</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in"><b>COMMUNICATION LINES RESTORED – COSTA SUL REGION REPORTS FIRST STABLE SIGNAL IN 72 HOURS</b></span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in">Your phone erupts on the coffee table.</span> <<next 4s>> <span class="ease-in"><b>[[MOM IS CALLING|prologue_16]]</b></span> <</timed>> </div>

<<nobr>> <center> <<textbox "$name" "">> </center> <div class="choice"> <<link "Next" "nickname">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

<<nobr>> Do you prefer being called by your nickname? <div class="choice"> <<link "Yes" "nickname input">><<set $nickname to true>><</link>> <br> <<link "No" "mom-name">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

<<nobr>> <center> <<textbox "$name2" "">> </center> <div class="choice"> <<link "Next" "mom-name">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

<<nobr>> What’s your mom’s name? <div class="choice"> <<link "Carla" "lastname">><<set $mom_name to "Carla">><</link>> <br> <<link "Sally" "lastname">><<set $mom_name to "Sally">><</link>> <br> <<link "Elodie" "lastname">><<set $mom_name to "Elodie">><</link>> <br> <<link "Diana" "lastname">><<set $mom_name to "Diana">><</link>> <br> <<link "Linda" "lastname">><<set $mom_name to "Linda">><</link>> <br> <<link "None of these" "input name2">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

<<nobr>> <center> <<textbox "$mom_name" "">> </center> <div class="choice"> <<link "Next" "lastname">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

<<nobr>> What’s your last name? <div class="choice"> <<link "Fontes" "prologue_12">><<set $lastname to "Fontes">><</link>> <br> <<link "Del Mar" "prologue_12">><<set $lastname to "Del Mar">><</link>> <br> <<link "Rivera" "prologue_12">><<set $lastname to "Rivera">><</link>> <br> <<link "Fisher" "prologue_12">><<set $lastname to "Fisher">><</link>> <br> <<link "None of these" "input name3">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

<<nobr>> <center> <<textbox "$lastname" "">> </center> <div class="choice"> <<link "Next" "prologue_12">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

You snatch the phone off the counter with a triumphant grin already forming. //Take that, taco.// But as the screen glows, the victory lap is cut short. The light is too bright, the name is wrong. It isn't your mom. It’s Dani. <b>Dani:</b> <<if $nickname is true>><<print $name2.toUpperCase()>><<else>><<print $name.toUpperCase()>><</if>>!!! <b>Dani:</b> you know how I never watch the news right? <b>Dani:</b> 'cause of the bad vibes?? <b>Dani:</b> well I was at the dentist and the TV was just on in the waiting room <b>Dani:</b> no cavities once again btw i told you my teeth are made of steel <b>Dani:</b> ANYWAY phone at 3% <b>Dani:</b> have you seen what happened??? A cold stone of dread drops straight into your gut. Your fingers blur across the keypad, making three typos before you manage to hit send. <b>You:</b> what are you talking about???? <b>You:</b> DANI Three dots appear. They wave. They hover. You wait, your heart performing a frantic, irregular rhythm against your ribs. The bubble vanishes. "Dani, I swear to God," you hiss at the ceiling. This is the agonizing curse of befriending an eternal optimist. Dani navigates life with a permanent 6% battery life and an "it'll all work out" attitude that is currently killing your nervous system. You spot the TV remote wedged between the couch cushions, naturally, the one place you forgot to look. Time to turn on the news <b>[[and see the "bad vibes" for yourself.|prologue_14]]</b>

"Mom," You sound like a stranger to yourself, voice pitching up into a frequency only dogs can hear. "<<if $nickname is true>>$name2<<else>>$name<</if>>?" Her voice is barely winning the fight against the static. "<<if $nickname is true>>$name2<<else>>$name<</if>>? Are you there?" "I'm here, I thought you’d joined a cult. Or worse..." you choke out, a hysterical laugh bubbling up. “Replaced me with a succulent." A long, terrifying hiss of static follows. Then, a huff of familiar indignation: "A succulent? If I replaced you with a plant, it would be dead in a week, and then I’d just have a pot of dirt and no one to explain how my phone works." The laugh is still settling in your chest, warm and a little ragged, when you realize you have about fifteen things to say and approximately no idea which one comes out first. <<nobr>> <div class="choice"> <<if not $asked_dog>> <<link '"Forget everything else! Is the dog okay?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_dog to true>><<set $momReply to "dog">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<if not $asked_jeep>> <<link '"Is the Jeep intact?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_jeep to true>><<set $momReply to "jeep">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<if not $asked_weather>> <<link '"...So. How\'s the weather?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_weather to true>><<set $momReply to "weather">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<if not $asked_cherub>> <<link '"Did the storm finally take out the Martins\' faux-marble cherub fountain, or is the universe just not that kind?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_cherub to true>><<set $momReply to "cherub">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<if not $asked_news>> <<link '"Mom, I saw the news. How bad is it, really?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_news to true>><<set $momReply to "news">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<link "You sigh of relief" 'prologue_17'>><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

<<nobr>> <<if $momReply is "dog">> "The dog," she says, "is currently asleep on your bed. I swear, he didn’t move a single inch during the entire storm. The windows were rattling, and he just kept on snoring." <br><br> "Seriously?" <br><br> "Not an inch. But he is awake now. And he's taking full advantage of the fact that the storm blew down Mrs. Oliveira's fence. He's been using the new holes as an obstacle course all morning." <<if $questionsAsked is 1>> <br><br> There’s a pause. A calculated, theatrical pause, before her voice shifts into that melodic, teasing lilt she uses when she’s winning an argument. <br><br> "I’m also perfectly healthy and un-succulent-like, if you were building up to that." <br><br> "I was building up to that." <br><br> "I know you were, sweetheart." <</if>> <<elseif $momReply is "jeep">> "The Jeep," she says, and the tone of her voice catches, "is fine."<br><br> You close your eyes, the tension snapping out of your shoulders all at once. "Thank God."<br><br> "She lost a wing mirror."<br><br> "Which one?"<br><br> "Does it matter which one?"<br><br> "Which. One."<br><br> "The passenger side," she admits, then quickly adds, "but she started this morning, <<if $nickname is true>>$name2<<else>>$name<</if>>. First try. Didn't even hesitate."<br><br> "Of course she didn't." You realize your hand is clamped tightly over your mouth. You don't know when that happened, or when your eyes started burning. "She's amazing."<br><br> "She absolutely was. I told her so. I even gave her a little pat on the hood." <<if $questionsAsked is 1>> There’s a pause. A calculated, theatrical pause, before her voice shifts into that melodic, teasing lilt she uses when she’s winning an argument. <br><br> "I’m also perfectly healthy and un-succulent-like, if you were building up to that."<br><br> "I know you were, sweetheart." <</if>> <<elseif $momReply is "weather">> A real laugh, the full one, the one that goes a little silent at the peak because it's too much to make noise through. You've heard that laugh your whole life. It hits you somewhere behind the sternum and you have to press your lips together hard. "Very funny."<br><br> "So, what, a little bit breezy down there?" you ask.<br><br> "Just a light drizzle."<br><br> "Coastal flooding? End of days?"<br><br> "Something like that." She's still laughing, trying to catch her breath and failing. "It was... a lot. But it's over now."<br><br> "And you're okay?"<br><br> "And I'm okay."<br><br> "And the hostel?"<br><br> "And the hostel."<br><br> You nod at nothing. Look at the TV. The reporter has given up entirely and is just standing there, hair whipped horizontal by the wind, letting the world happen to him.<br><br> "Good." You say. "Good." <<elseif $momReply is "cherub">> A pause.<br><br> "...It's in the tree." She says, very quietly, like she's sharing classified information.<br><br> You sit up straight. "How did it even get up there?"<br><br> "We don't know. Senhor Augusto is trying to poke it down with a pool skimmer."<br><br> "Mom," you say, very seriously, "this is the best news I've received in three days."<br><br> "I thought it might help. I saved it for the right moment." <<elseif $momReply is "news">> A sharp, fractured breath. It’s the first time the 'everything-is-fine' facade on her voice has actually wavered since you answered.<br><br> "It was..." Her voice wavers, losing that rhythmic, motherly confidence. "Scary." She admits. "Overwhelmingly loud. It felt like the air itself was screaming."<br><br> The line crackles with a sharp, static-filled silence that feels heavier than the noise.<br><br> "But the hostel is standing." She says, her voice snapping back into a familiar, fragile firmness. "No one got harmed. We're fine, <<if $nickname is true>>$name2<<else>>$name<</if>>. We really are." <</if>> <</nobr>> <<nobr>> <div class="choice"> <<if not $asked_dog>> <<link '"Forget everything else! Is the dog okay?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_dog to true>><<set $momReply to "dog">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<if not $asked_jeep>> <<link '"Is the Jeep intact?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_jeep to true>><<set $momReply to "jeep">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<if not $asked_weather>> <<link '"...So. How\'s the weather?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_weather to true>><<set $momReply to "weather">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<if not $asked_cherub>> <<link '"Did the storm finally take out the Martins\' faux-marble cherub fountain, or is the universe just not that kind?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_cherub to true>><<set $momReply to "cherub">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<if not $asked_news>> <<link '"Mom, I saw the news. How bad is it, really?"' 'MomCall'>><<set $asked_news to true>><<set $momReply to "news">><<set $questionsAsked += 1>><</link>> <br> <</if>> <<link "You sigh of relief" 'prologue_17'>><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

You stare at the TV. It's passing footage from three days ago, when the storm first hit your hometown. The reporter was standing at a forty-five-degree angle. Not metaphorically. He was physically leaning with the look of a man entirely reconsidering his career. A loud thump echoes through the phone, followed by an angry splash. "Oh, blast it. Get away! Shoo!" "Mom?! Are you fighting off looters?" "Worse. Geese. They think our chimney is free real estate." A sharp gust of wind whistles directly into the receiver. "And it's slippery enough up here without them!" You stare blindly at the TV screen. The reporter on the news is still being blown sideways, but your brain has completely detached from the broadcast. "The cell service has been absolutely dreadful since Tuesday," she continues breezily, "but I found that if I sit right next to the chimney, I get a full four bars!" The horrifying, undeniable absurdity of the situation finally clicks into place. For three long seconds, the only sound on your end of the line is the TV. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose, take a very deep breath, and say... <<nobr>> <div class="choice"> <<link '"Pardon, you\'re where?!"' 'prologue_18'>><<set $roofReply to "where">><</link>> <br> <<link '"...Can you hear me okay up there?"' 'prologue_18'>><<set $roofReply to "hear">><</link>> <br> <<link '"Mom, I am going to need you to sound at least a little concerned about this!"' 'prologue_18'>><<set $roofReply to "concerned">><</link>> </div> <</nobr>>

<<nobr>> <<if $roofReply is "where">> "Pardon, you're where?!"<br><br> "On the roof." She says, her voice competing with a gust of wind. "The signal is fantastic up here. I can almost see the satellites."<br><br> "The hostel roof?"<br><br> "Yes, that one."<br><br> "That's where you're hanging out?! The unprotected structure designed specifically to keep the outdoors from becoming the indoors?"<br><br> "That is generally the architectural purpose of a roof, yes. You’re very smart, sweetheart. That expensive education is really paying off."<br><br> "Mom, get down."<br><br> <<elseif $roofReply is "hear">> "...Can you hear me okay up there?"<br><br> She laughs. It's warm, delighted, and completely disarming. "Perfectly."<br><br> "Good." You close your eyes, genuinely appalled that those words just came out of your mouth. "Good, I'm glad the… Okay. No. That is not the point. The point is–"<br><br> "The cell signal really is excellent up here, you know."<br><br> "Get off the roof."<br><br> <<elseif $roofReply is "concerned">> "Mom, I am going to need you to sound at least a little concerned about this."<br><br> "But I'm not concerned."<br><br> "Do it for me, Mom. For my blood pressure. Just put a little worry in your voice. A tiny hint of //oh-perhaps-I-shouldn't-be-standing-on-top-of-my-house.//"<br><br> A pause over the line. She makes an attempt.<br><br> "...Oh my," she says, with all the theatrical surprise of a rock, "I am on the roof."<br><br> "That is the least convincing thing you've ever said, and you once told me the dog ate all my of Halloween candy."<br><br> "He did eat your Halloween candy!"<br><br> "Mom."<br><br> <</if>> <</nobr>>“Oh, it’s fine!” Your mom says. “Yeoreum is holding my legs.” The sentence enters your brain. It doesn’t find a place to sit; it just bounces around the interior of your head like a DVD logo, endlessly drifting toward the corner of "reason" and missing it by a single pixel every time. “...Yeoreum,” you say slowly, “is holding your legs.” “Hi, guppy!!!” Yeoreum’s voice is delighted, as if she has just run into you at a lovely little café and not like she is currently anchoring your mother to a chimney. You open your mouth. You close it. Yeoreum is four-foot-eleven on a good day. She and your mother have been best friends since their twenties, which means she has had two decades to develop better judgment than this, and has actively chosen not to. You don't need to be there to know that a tiny lady standing on a ladder cannot act as a human belay system for a woman dangling off a roof. <<nobr>><div class="choice"> <<link '"Mom, Yeoreum is four foot eleven!"' "prologue_19">><<set $approach to 'logical'>><</link>> <br> <<link '"...How is Yeoreum?"' "prologue_19">><<set $approach to 'caring'>><</link>> <br> <<link '"Oh, well, if Yeoreum is holding your legs, then by all means, why stop at the roof? Go for the power lines!"' "prologue_19">><<set $approach to 'sarcastic'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Say nothing." "prologue_19">><<set $approach to 'silent'>><</link>> <br> <<link "Use some good old-fashioned emotional manipulation." "prologue_19">><<set $approach to 'manipulative'>><</link>> </div><</nobr>>

<<nobr>><<if $approach is 'logical'>> "She does aqua aerobics, <<if $nickname is true>>$name2<<else>>$name<</if>>." Your mother insists, as if that makes the situation better. <br><br> "Three times a week." Yeoreum adds.<br><br> “That is not the point!” You can already feel a headache blooming right behind your eyes. “The point is that you are currently hanging off the roof with nothing but a four-foot-eleven woman holding you down.”<br><br> "Four eleven and a half," Yeoreum says, "I had a growth spurt last year. My doctor was very surprised."<br><br> "So what you're telling me" you say slowly, "is that the thing standing between my mother and a three-story fall is a woman who recently grew half an inch and does aqua aerobics."<br><br> “Her instructor says she has the core strength of someone in their thirties.”<br><br> “I do have very good core strength,” Yeoreum interjects thoughtfully. “But, if I’m being honest, my left knee is a little–”<br><br> "Yeoreum."<br><br> "Yes, guppy?"<br><br> “Take my mother off the roof.” <<elseif $approach is 'caring'>> "...How is Yeoreum?"<br><br> "Wonderful!" Yeoreum chirps from somewhere near your mother’s ankles. "I joined an art class, you know. I figured if my Jules has so much talent, I might too."<br><br> //Jules//. That’s a name you haven’t heard in a while. "That’s great, Yeoreum."<br><br> "I've been framing the paintings myself. Your mother helped me pick the moulding."<br><br> "We went on a Tuesday." Your mom says. "They had a sale."<br><br> "I’m glad you got that discount." You close your eyes, letting your forehead rest against your palm. "Please get off the roof." <<elseif $approach is 'sarcastic'>> “Oh, well, if Yeoreum is holding your legs, then by all means, stay up there!” You throw your hands up, sweat sticking your hair to your forehead. “Why stop at the roof? Why not go for the power lines?“<br><br> "There's no need for that kind of tone, <<if $nickname is true>>$name2<<else>>$name<</if>>." Your mother grunts. "The power lines are entirely out of reach from this angle."<br><br> You stare at the ceiling, wondering if there is an emergency hotline specifically for children of recklessly co-dependent best friends. <<elseif $approach is 'silent'>> You don't say anything.<br><br> The thing is, this isn't even the strangest phone call you’ve had with her. There was the time with the kayak. There was the incident involving the farmers' market, the goat, and what your mother still refers to only as a "series of misunderstandings." At least then, your mother wasn’t in mortal danger.<br><br> "<<if $nicknameistrue>>$name2<<else>>$name<<endif>>?" your mother says, after a moment.<br><br> "I'm here."<br><br> "You went very quiet."<br><br> "I'm processing."<br><br> "Take your time," Yeoreum offers generously. "We're not going anywhere."<br><br> A beat.<br><br> "That," you say, "is what I'm afraid of." <<elseif $approach is 'manipulative'>> "Mom."<br><br> "Yeah?"<br><br> "You are my only mother," you say. "You are irreplaceable. I haven't found a single person willing to take the job. I mean, I haven't been looking, but the point remains."<br><br> She says nothing and you take the silence as permission to keep going.<br><br> "I have one mother," you continue. "One. Singular. The collection is closed. There is no backup file. If something happened to you, I am wildly unprepared, mom. Both emotionally and culinarily."<br><br> "You always did love my cooking."<br><br> "Yeah. So I need you to walk away from whatever the hell this is.” <</if>> <</nobr>> You press the phone so hard against your ear that the casing bites into your skin. "Mom, please." Your voice has gone soft again, stripped of its earlier frantic edge, leaving behind only a raw, helpless desperation. "For me." The line goes quiet, every second of silence feels like a physical weight pressing down on your chest. “I’m coming down, <<if $nickname is true>>$name2<<else>>$name<</if>>.” She finally concedes. You exhale a breath that contains roughly five years of your life expectancy. "Thank you." "I've got her!" Yeoreum yells from somewhere in the background, instantly securing her place in your will. What follows are the most stressful forty-five seconds of your entire life. Blind to the actual events, you are forced to listen to a live audio broadcast of your mother’s potential demise. Yeoreum acts as an air traffic controller "Left foot. Right there. Okay, no no no, don't step on that." Then, your mother's voice returns to the receiver. "You know, the cell signal is actually pretty good down here too." She observes cheerfully. "Maybe I didn't need to climb up there.” You close your eyes in defeat. "Almost there." She continues, breezing right past your near-cardiac event. Through the speaker, you hear the heavy, magnificent thump on the grass. It is the glorious sound of a woman who has finally rejoined the terrestrial world. <b>[[She's off the roof.|prologue_20]]</b>

The town is so distant, yet it feels viscerally present. For a second, you aren't in your apartment at all. The screen draws you in so close you can almost feel the distinct and sharp coldness of the seawater against your ankles, the salt-heavy breeze whipping through your hair, the way the late afternoon sun sits low and gold, warming the back of your neck. The illusion deepens. The figures on the TV blur, and for a fleeting moment, you see six teenagers on the docks. Not the faces from the news, but a memory from years ago. You are hundreds of miles away, yet the hook sets deep in your chest. Then the signal flickers. You blink, the ghosts scatter, and it is just a glowing television screen again. You exhale slowly. The blanket is still around your shoulders. The coffee is still cold. Outside your window, someone is honking their horn. Long, aggressive, the typical language of city traffic. A bus hisses. Someone shouts something back. You are hundreds of miles away from those bougainvillaea petals, that cliff path, those docks. Your chest tightens, as it always does. The ache never asks permission. It’s bittersweet and stubborn, a precious weight you’d grieve if you were ever forced to <b>[[let it go.|prologue_23]]</b>

A small, comfortable silence settles into the room. You pull a blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, your undrunk coffee cooling on the table beside you. The TV murmurs in the background, broadcasting live footage of Costa Sul following the storm. The town wears a few battered marks of the wild night. You see the tangled blue fishing nets tossed up onto the bakery’s terrace like heaps kelp, and a shuttered window from an upper floor sits propped against a fountain in the square. But there is a sense of purification in the aftermath. The morning sun drapes the town in liquid gold, highlighting the pale, sun-kissed hues of the houses tucked along the cliffside. Shaken loose by the wind, bright cascades of pink bougainvillaea blanket the narrow alleyways; a floral tapestry laid over the very shortcuts of your youth. At the corner, right on the doorstep of a bright azure house, old Dona Amélia moves with her usual unhurried grace, using a broad broom to push the flower petals aside with the stoicism of a woman who has outlasted a thousand storms. The camera cuts to a tight-knit group of local teens currently locked in a Herculean wrestling match with a massive uprooted olive tree that has dared to block the //'lovers' lane'// leading to the cliffs. It’s almost moving; evidently, even a historic coastal tempest is no match for the unyielding willpower of hormonal teens determined to reclaim their territory. Down by the shore, the ocean has settled into a brilliant, sparkling turquoise that looks almost unreal. Gentle waves lap at the shoreline, while beyond the protection of the sea wall, the storm has left the sprawling dunes rewritten in new, elegant curves of white sand. High above, seagulls catch the fresh, salt-tinged breeze, gliding over crystalline tide pools so familiar you could navigate their rocky edges with your eyes closed. On a sun-warmed stone ledge, a small tabby cat sits as still as a statue, its gaze fixed on the horizon. Perhaps it’s watching a distant boat, or simply the rhythmic sway of a mooring buoy below. The buoy drifts aimlessly, its rope trailing loose in the sapphire current, <b>[[its boat not yet home.|prologue_22]]</b>

You haven’t been to Costa Sul in //two years.// <b>Two years</b> of repeated conversations where all you can muster is a “I’m fine, Mom, I'm good, everything's fine," because that was easier than explaining the exhaustion that sleep does not fix. The kind that settles in your spine on a Thursday night while the neighbors move furniture at 11:00 PM, and you eat standing over the sink because setting a table for one makes the room feel emptier. <b>Two years</b> of watching Costa Sul from a distance and lying to yourself that it was enough. The news ticker scrolls. <b><center>TO ENSURE SAFER CIRCULATION, A TEMPORARY PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION SCHEDULE WILL BE IMPLEMENTED TO AVOID CONGESTION IN THE AFFECTED AREAS, STARTING TOMORROW AT 9:00 AM.</center></b> You look at the photos on the fridge. From here, the details are gone. There are only the colors; the white of the coast, the blue of the water, the pink of the flowers. You look at the ticker again. //Tomorrow at 9:00 AM.// You tighten your grip on the phone until your knuckles turn the same hue of the white coast in the photo. The noisy upstairs neighbours fade into a dull hum, leaving only the sound of your own breath and the static of the long-distance connection. "Mom?" <b>Two years</b> is what it takes for you to finally gather the courage to say it. <b>"[[I’m coming home tomorrow.|prologue_24]]"</b>

<center>Thanks for stopping by my little slice of paradise! Chapter One is officially in progress and will be published before you know it. In the meantime, you can find more updates and ramblings over on my Tumblr! Check my itch.io page for the links 🐬 </center> <center>//– nati//</center>

“So… Care to enlighten me on what exactly was your thought process behind free-soloing our roof?” The thought of her pacing through the quiet, sick with worry over the silence, makes your throat tighten painfully. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to force the emotion back down. The guilt is heavy, yet it’s losing ground to the sheer absurdity of the image: your mother, perched on the hostel roof in her fluffy house slippers, all for a single bar of signal. A weary, disbelieving smile flickers across your face. “Mom, I cannot believe you climbed the hostel. With Yeoreum as your only backup, no less. What exactly was the safety protocol if you fell? Was she going to catch you?” “She put the sofa cushions on the grass.” Your mom sniffs. “Besides, I am wearing your old <b><<cycle "$helmet">> <<option "googly-eyed frog">> <<option "spiked dragon">> <<option "light-up unicorn">> <<option "tiara-topped">> <<option "giant rubber mohawk">> <</cycle>></b> helmet and the matching knee pads. I'm not irresponsible.” A laugh bubbles up before you can stop it, rattling deep in your chest. It’s the sound of three days of pure stress leaving your body all at once – or maybe two years' worth. You collapse forward, forehead hitting the table, and laugh until your eyes sting with tears. Your mom chirps a defensive protest, telling you to stop teasing her, <b>[[but you can hear the smile in her voice.|prologue_21]]</b>