Karma

You’re a human traveller in a vastly divided world. Nothing special [[really.]]

Your mother and father, both major players in your city’s aristocracy, disowned you for the disgrace you brought on (what was once) your house. But you knew that would happen anyway. You’d made your decision long before any dowries were exchanged. And [[nothing]] would've changed that decision.

In your mind, it was a fair price to pay when compared to the prospect of marrying either the beastly, spoilt son or daughter of Your-Majesties-From-Hither-Or-Yon for status. And you were pretty sure one of them was twelve at the time. *Twelve*. That just didn’t sit right with you. [[At all.]]

Trust T to be the one to eventually [[bring you back]].

It’s in the cold dark of dusk that you approach the city’s gates. Huge, hulking things that they are, just as thick and oppressive as you remembered them. A bold, hard shadow of iron against the barren, starless skyline. There was always too much light for stars here... Now to get past the guards. / [[Wait for a merchant caravan to sneak in with]] / [[Scale the walls]] / [[Bluff your way in]]

You wait in the long drawn shadows cast by the double moons, your cloak obscuring you further as you crouch behind one of the checkpoint stations. ...you feel like you should've planned this out better, your knees protesting after only the first hour and a half of [[waiting]].

You ready yourself for one hell of a climb, circling the perimetre for that one blind spot you knew of in your youth, hoping the local garrison hadn't wised up and clued on to it in your long absence. It had been [[years]] after all.

You... can't believe that actually worked. How the *fuck* did that work??? Oh well. You're in now, and with a permit to stay at the local Commons inn, The Inky Quill, for the next 48 hours to boot. Exactly where you were headed. [[No point in dwelling on it->Inn]]. ... Seriously though. *How*???

They hadn't. There it was in all it's dumb, improbable glory. That one long stretch of latticed vines that never once failed you in the past, clawing it's way through the layered metal panels. You'd think they would've noticed that by now. Like. Even statistically. It was probably such a structural hazard as well... Oh well. [[Lucky for you at least]].

With your faithful grappling hook in one hand and metaphorical balls of steel in the other, you begin your ascent. The route is familiar. The exact same one you took all those years ago, only in reverse. Although, back then you only had your families finary and wedding garments to protect you from the barbs. The endeavour this time was much smoother. And with a lot less [[scratches.]]

Maybe you should sit down? That's gotta be hurting by now. / [[You're right, it's probably gonna to take a while.->meta]] / [[Keep kneeling. I ain't no quitter.->meta]]

You reach the top, breathing heavy but otherwise unscathed. You don't remember it taking that long, but to be fair you did fall the rest of the way last time. That's bound to shave a good few minutes off. Then, as you rise, you're hit with a wave of nostaligia so heavy your chest aches a little. The view from this wall had always been [[your favourite.]]

You can see almost everything from here. The Commons to the south, a hive of hard workers and urchin children, even at night. All trying so hard to survive as best they can in the stacked houses of the favela. Even the Heights to the north, the hub of the aristocracy high above everything else. Always glowing and shining with gold and heat. A beacon of wealth and privilege and fascism. And then, there's the cleanly cut cliff that separates them straight down the middle. A chasm that seemed a mile wide to you as a child, but really... wasn't too far off that, actually. As if the social structure wasn't enough to create that divide all on it's own. [[Home, sweet home.]]

But then, there's The Arena. Sat smack-bang in the middle of the chasm, the centrepoint of entertainment for both poor and rich. Two bridges extending to it from either side, both of contrasting quality mirroring the side that had built it or ordered it's construction... You have many memories of this place, all varying from good to bad. You both miss it and don't, the pros never quite out-weighing the cons, but just shy of being level with them... You think you'd never live here again, and leave that train of thought at that. Time to find that [[Inn]] T mentioned in their letter.

Just as you're about to respond to your own inner monologue, a caravan shows up, making it's rickety way down the dusty road. Pretty convenient to be honest. [[Show time.]]

You manage to climb aboard the caravan, after using some of the hard boiled sweets you'd been stashing as projectile distractions. That had given you just enough time to hide yourself in the back, among some very large and phallic shaped cargo. You daren't look under the tarps. It was a weird city, with even weirder people in it. You try not to judge. None of your business [[anyway.]]

Once past the checkpoint, you move to settle yourself in front of the suspicious cargo and wait for the guards to lose interest and turn away. Once they do, you quickly swing yourself out onto the cobblestones, rolling and using that momentum to carry you into a sidestreet before anyone's the wiser. Pretty seemless infiltration, if you do say so yourself. Now to find that [[Inn]] T mentioned in their letter.

That was years ago now. And yet here you are, on your way back to Skirone, the city of metal and coal, at the behest of your old friend [[Tyrel.]]

The Inn, The Inky Quill, was one of those little hidey-hole joints workers and travellers alike would flock to. It just had that air about it. The one that said something like 'your business is your own but leave The Shit at the door' kinda deal. It was nice, as far as Inns go. Relatively clean, and that was all you could ask for, really. You'd slept in much worse places. Nothing could beat the Bog Pits of Salisia. You gag at just the thought of that place. The rancid smell that just lingered for months afterwards, no matter how much you bathed. [[Ergh.]]

Anyway, you came here for a reason, and as you look around you spot said reason sat at the bar. Well, they were kind of sat *at* the bar. More hanging over it, swiping a bottle from the other side while the barkeep's back was turned. Good to know some things never change. / [[Greet warmly.]] / [[Swipe the bottle from them on your way to sit down.]] / [[BEAR HUG.]]

You casually head on over to them, tugging your hood further down over your eyes just to make sure the barkeep didn't recognise your family's trade mark features. That wouldn't be good. Then you call over to your friend, their head swiveling round as if they'd been caught. But then the voice registers, if a little rougher and less proper than it had been before, and they smile so wide and unguarded you're certain they're [[pissed out their tree]].

You swoop in unannounced and take the bottle right out from under their nose with a 'yoink', dodging the left hook you anticipated swinging towards you with the action. "Woahhh!!! Didn't your mother ever teach you that stealing is *bad*," you say, opening your commandeered drink with your teeth. It made that familiar hissing sound that you'd missed so goddamned much on your travels. Not usually many places to buy this stuff out on the road, so it was a much appreciated treat. Even doubly so, since you're not the one who's gonna [[pay for it]].

Seeing them in the flesh after so long only corrosponing through letters makes you so happy you forget yourself as you make your way towards them. A grin on your face and arms outstretched, you don't even announce your presence before you wrap your arms around them. ... Or you tried to, at least. They flipped your ass so fast you could've sworn it gave you [[whiplash.]]

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU-" they start, face red above you, words loud and slightly slurred from drinking. But then they stop, squint, and then they're bearing their teeth in a face splitting grin as recognition dawns on them. "Oh, you absolute bastard!" They lift you back up off the bar and clap you on the shoulder. "Where on Earth've you been? I've been waiting here all bloody week for your [[late ass->dick]]!"

"Love you too, dick," you wheeze, righting yourself on the nearest stool."And after I hauled myself all the way here from *Extal Pass* for you. You know how far that is from here??? Fuckin' *far*. Cold as all hell too. You ever tried pissin' in a blizzard?? Not fun." "Okay, okay, I *forgive you*" they cut in with an exaggerated flourish, "but you're getting the next round since my waiting here *allllll weeeek* for *you* has crippled me [[financially]]."

Years ago, you left a future spouse at the altar. One your parents had arranged for you in order to climb the social ladder. As you can imagine, [[that]] hadn’t gone over too well.

They start to fill you in with little tid-bits of information, mumbling most of the time. It takes a while for all of the facts to sink in properly, but when they do you don't so much as feel the heated wave of emotion. You become it. And it's not a pretty sight. [[“YOU HAD THIS DUDE'S PEOPLE BET ON US LOSING???”]]

“LIFE, TYREL." You snap. "LIFE HAPPENED." You're beside yourself with rage at this point, spitting their full name out at them like bile. How dare they. How fucking *dare* they pin this on you. "DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE OUT THERE?? THERE ARE TREES THAT EAT PEOPLE. THERE ARE *PEOPLE* WHO EAT PEOPLE. YOU EITHER GET STRONG, GET FAST, OR DIE, T. GOD DAMN IT WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST [[TELL ME]] YOU WERE HAVING MONEY TROUBLE WITH A GODDAMN ARISTOCRAT?”

They're silent for a good few seconds, which honestly throws you off a bit. Why aren't they fucking *biting back*? They never, *ever* backed down from a fight with clean knuckles and all their teeth left [[...]]

“... I honestly didn’t think it an option." They murmur the words, and your heart fucking squeezes uncomfortably. [[Were you really so distant now?]]

T sighs before continuing, "I'll be real with you. Me and my family... we're in some deep shit right now." They say it like it took every ounce of their being to just get the words out. As if finally admitting it brought all the fear and shame they felt to life. Like it [[hadn't really existed]] before that moment.

T's then mumbling something, head down in their hands below the arch of their shoulders. But it's quiet enough down here in the dark for you to hear them loud and clear. "I know it’s dangerous for you to be here. What with your parents and the Dulante family and that whole wedding fiasco thing. So the less you knew, the better, really. Less chance of you sticking around to help. "Was hoping you'd be gone by the time the switch-over happened, to be honest. Yaknow, to keep you from actually coming to the Heights. Last thing you need is for this guy or his goons to somehow recognise you from [[before.]]"

Before you can properly respond, the door to the dungeon swings open and clangs hard against the wall. Metal footsteps follow the sound. The automatons. They say you've been summoned from your cell by Lord 'What's-his-face'. Only you. T was putting on a brave face when you were escorted out and up the stairs, but you'd known them long enough to know that they were scared shitless. Hell, you were scared pretty shitless too. The messed up shit the people up here could get away with was fucking terrifying if you were on the wrong side of the bars. Or even if you weren't, depending on how much money the sick fuck had. And looking around right now, seeing all the expensive, matching furniture and tapestries of spun gold on the walls, you'd guess this particular fuck had a *lot*. [[That did not bode well for you.]]

You're lead by a small squad of guards through what you could only call the house of a maze loving giant. The ceilings were so high you could bungie jump from the chandaliers, and every corner is just one turn too many for you to keep track of. A left, a left, and then a right. Another right. Straight on, what, seven times?? That can't be right- But then you're in a goddamn *throne room*, and to be honest that on it's own is enough for you to know that you are absolutely, 100%, no-room-for-questioning-ly [[fucked]].

They're exactly what you expected them to be, Lord Who's-it. Pale, smooth skinned, never seen a day of manual labour in their life. Probably someone who recently came into a lot of money through inheritence, you think, since you've never seen their face before. Although, your family had been based more in the merchant guild back then. New money. So it was also possible that you were staring into the pale eyes of one of the oldest family's youngest heir or something. There's no way you'd have crossed paths then. Or... they could be one of those eccentrics with big ideas no-one else would touch with a ten foot pole. But they tend to keep them around because they like the look of the results. They did really enjoy [[the Sciences]] up here after all.

They speak, and you know exactly which one it is. Entitled old family money. The plum in their mouth told you all you needed to know. You'd been around enough people in the aristocracy to know how to tell the difference between a rude snob and a polite one. And they somehow managed to be both at once, backhanded compliments that were as much balms as they were barbs. God you hated that whole song and dance shit. / [[Wait patiently. He'll get there eventually. Probably.->explain]] / [[Ask why you're here, damn it. Enough of the theatrics.->explain]]

He tells you to acquire the princess of a civilisation you didn’t even know existed. But apparently it does. And it’s in the ass-end of nowhere beyond the *people eating trees*. God, you remember those. Temperamental bastards, they were. Calm as you please usually, until you start gathering kindling to build a fire so you, [[you know]], *don’t* die of hyperthermia during the night cycles.

Well. You feel better at least. But you still somehow ended up taking the job. Something to do with a threat to live the next few days of your remaining life in a metre by metre metal box marinating in your own juices, being fed nothing but milk and honey, and then being buried naked in a log somewhere... Yeah. Not exactly how you wanted to eventually kick the bucket. [[But still...->took the job]]

Well, you [[took the job]]...

You can’t believe you actually took the job. [[What the fuck were you thinking???]]

Well. You’re here now, on your way back through those [[godforsaken mountains]].

[[Again.]]

T was such a fucking idiot. Getting into this shit in the first place, now that takes some prime fucking idiocy. But to get them both stuck in it? Ohhhhh the more you think on it, the angrier you get, and the more you wanna throttle them within an inch of their life the next time you see them. [[If]] you ever see them again, that is.

God, that thought hurt. Fucking [[asshole]], making you care and shit.

Right. Mountains. White and blue and purple mountains. Fucking freezing, joint aching, ‘I-can’t-believe-I’ve-had-to-do-this-twice-in-one-week’ mountains. ... This was all fucking bollocks. And there was nothing else to do but keep moving and [[think]]. Fucking *bollocks*.

You sigh, resigning yourself to your current endeavour, actually feeling somewhat grateful for the new armour that pompous ass had given you before you left. Even if you are absolutely certain it has some kind of tracking or recording device in it somewhere that you haven’t found yet. It was a collar and leash, really. A collar and leash with the benefits of protection and warmth, but still a collar and leash all the same. At least the hilt of your dagger was warm from the new [[runes]] in it. [[...-->runes]]

God, you hoped this stuff didn't add to your debt. Otherwise that would mean *more* jobs in the future. That'd be such a dick move. And you were [[pretty sure]] it was a dick move that this dude would make.

You sigh again, the cloud of breath smaller this time. You are [[so]] going to have a few choice words for T when you get back.

[[...-->iff]]

[[If-->anythingcouldhappen]] you get back.

Anything could happen out here, and that’s something you’re very aware of. But this time you’ve got another life on the line too, and that [[changes things]].

Right. No half-assing this shit. You pick up the pace, determined to get there, get the princess, get back, and then rip T a new one. In [[this]] timeline.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

You break through the thick, barbed lattice of what you can only call the largest occurrence of thorny brambles you have ever seen in your life *ever*. And you’ve seen some shit. But nothing compares to what you can see now. That, is one big, [[fuck-off]] wall of thorns.

You’re caught off-guard for a second by the sheer size of it. What the ever-loving fuck had this thing fed on to get so huge??? You stand at its base, and attempting to look up to the top messes with your balance. Like it's toppling towards you, about to turn you into a very meaty blob of paste. Fuck. You have a brief thought of if that chasm in [[Skirone]] was even this tall.

Welp. [[Here we go again.]] Hold on tight to those metaphorical balls. You’ll probably need them.

You think for a second, looking through your pack for that teeny, tiny shovel-thing you picked up in that one weird agriculture-crazed town to the west. [[Hopefully]] you didn’t dump it the last time you cleaned out your inventory...

Ignoring every fibre of your being screaming at you not to harm, or annoy the wildlife here for fear of possible *consumption*, you brandish your searing dagger, ready to start chopping. Or maybe it's more like ‘whittling’, considering the size of the blade is miniscule when compared to some of the vines themselves. [[...-->blade]]

To start with, it's not too bad. The vines are sturdy and, best of all, not angry at you for stabbing them a few times when you lost your footing (or your shit). All in all, it's actually kind of [[pleasant]].

"Aha!" you exclaim, reaching the bottom of your pack. There it was, that far from shiney little nick-nack you'd almost lost hope of finding. But as you unfurl it, looking back to the wall, your mind comes to the conclusion that the roots of this thing have got to be just as monstrous as the rest of it. If not, then more so. God [[DAMN->always]] IT.

Do you really wanna risk losing your only blade to an oversized bramble bush? [[Worth a shot.]] [[Maybe you're right.]]

You take a few stabs at it. And then a few more. It doesn't do much. Or anything, really. Maybe there's a scratch, but it's pretty much microscopic. Ready to give up now? / [[Shut up, I can do this.->keep cutting]] / [[Bitch I will cut you.->keep cutting]] / [[Fine.]]

Yeah, makes more sense not to break your best means of survival, right? Okay, back to the [[drawing board->always]]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[Chapter 4 - Wall of Thorns->Wall of Thorns]] _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You look to each side (surely there's a way in *somewhere*), and both left and right seem just as endless as each other, disappearing into little pin-pricks on the flat surface of the horizon. God, even some of the branches are bigger than *you* in diametre what the fuck what the f- Okay. Okay you can do this. It's just another wall. And you've seen hundreds of thousands of those. How should you handle it? / [[Climb, bitch.]] / [[Maybe digging underneath would work?]] / [[Cut your way through.]]

"Oh sure, you *bought* all those drinks, did you? Like you did these?" You demonstrate your point by raising your own bottle for another swig. "Hey! I'll have you know that I am a *respectable individual*. One that *allllways* pays their tab." Ahhh that fake affronted look. How you'd missed it. There's a pause then. An amicable one, shared by two people comfortable to just be in one another's presence. You're smiling despite the bruises probably forming on your skin. "Are the mountains really that bad nowadays?" They ask after a while. And [[boy]] did you have a story for them about the frost fae and their tendancy to sneak up on people while they're taking a piss.

"DUDE," they start, straightening up on a very precariously balanced bar stool, "where've ya been??? Been waitin' here all week for ya. Even thought you'd stood me up for a minute there! Got ready to pack up and leave and everything." They honestly sounded very convincingly mock-offended. "Was that before or after the last three rounds?" You quip back as they turn around again, twisting on the stool in a way that defied the rules of drunk-physics. They swipe another bottle, dropping back into their seat and handong it to you, but not before punching you full-force in the arm. They may have been more of a gun person, but you swore that they'd beefed up since your last visit just so that [[punch->dick]] would hurt as much as it did.

"Didn't *your mother* ever teach you not to sneak up on a friend who's stealing?? Could'a tipped Edwena off or somethin'." They swipe another on their way to plop back down to their seat, the stool juddering beneath them. "Anyway, where the fuck've you been, eh?? You know how long I've been waitin' on your late ass??" They crack open their drink, take a large gulp, and then promptly rabbit punch you in the [[side]].

The dude looks down his nose at you, and you can feel the scorn dripping from his gaze. Seriously. Fuck these kinds of people. So what you fucked up his little betting scheme. It's not as if he [[needed]] the money or anything.

*Fuck* that hurt, what the fuck??? [[Bitch->dick]] was gonna get it...

"We owe this one guy a lot cause he paid for some metal work to be done, provided the material, and paid extra for it to be done *fast*. But then da had that accident, slipped a disk in his back, and I've always been useless at that stuff. But I tried, yaknow? I had to. This was someone you did not want to owe *anything* "But it wasn't enough. He demanded recompensation. But we didn't have that kinda money... so I struck a [[deal]] with him and his people down in the pits."

"And then I'd thought, hey, if anyone could make a go of this, *we* could. To make it believable, yaknow? Just get in, do our thing, LOSE, then split the gold and get gone. That was the plan, pure and simple." They make a sharp cutting motion with their hands, and then they slump, droppping onto the edge of thier cell's cot, rubbing the pads of thier fingers into ther eyes tiredly. They looked like utter shit, sat there in the dark, head hung in defeat. Not that you were much better, mind. The disguise they'd made you wear over your normal stuff torn to shreds, hanging off you more than anything. Your pack and all your gear god knows where while you're both stuck here, underground, just waiting for something to happen. For someone, or thing, to come get you or... God, what a [[shit-storm]] this'd all turned into.

"That worked well, didn't it?" They laugh once, but there's no humour in it. A bitter exhale. "I thought *'no one could recognise them from that far away in the stands, anyway. No fuckin way. And even if they did, I'll get em a disguise or some shit, that should work.'*. "God, this should'nt have happened like this,” they mutter. And then quieter, they add a solemn "I honestly thought it'd work." God-Fucking-Damnit. / [["YOU FUCKING IDIOT."->Summoned]] / [[“...You fuckin’ idiot.”->Summoned]] / [[Hug them.->Summoned]] / [[All of the above.->Summoned]]

[[...->huh]]

[[Actually]]

It looks like he [[really]] doesn't need the money.

Is it a principle thing then? But why all the extra steps? Why were you here, and [[not T]]?

Why would this person allow and encourage all of this to happen, just to meet [[you]]?

He's still talking, up there on his raised podium, and you tune in just in time to hear what he actually [[wants from you->The job]].

Anyway, he wants you to bring her here for an audience with him. Which, wierd flex, but okay? If you do this, he says, your debts are paid. And you and T can walk free of this place and never look back. You’re told to think on it, but you’ve already made your decision. / [[Take the job.->job]] / [[Just take the job, dude. Is the jail time really worth it? Or the constant string of bounty hunters that are sure to follow you both for the rest of your lives if you somehow even made it out of that fortress of mechanical death? Did you even see those automatons he's got walking around??? Or, alternatively, you could...->job]] / [[Tell him to go fuck himself.]]

[[...->weird stuff]]

Well, you’d guessed that they were kids at the time. Could’ve been some really enthusiastic and linguistically stunted adults… Or was that just how the translator gauged their language in general? You had no fucking clue; no real point of reference. No one had ever gotten this far in the forest before and lived to tell the tale. That, or they just [[didn’t talk about it]].

[[Ever.]]

[[In their life.]]

God, how were you gonna find their monarchy without giving yourself away somehow?? Hoods, cloaks, and alleyways only did so much. And sooner or later someone was gonna catch on that you’re not blue skinned… You wondered for a moment what their prisons were like. If they even took [[prisoners]].

What was the average penalty for trespassing again? And how much did that change if it was for an [[entire kingdom]]??

You get the impression that they don’t *particularly* care for outsiders all that much. If the lack of communication or outside documentation was anything to go by… Shit, you hope you don't fuck this up now. What should you do next? / [[Scope out the kingdom, take names, plot locations.]] / [[Fuck it. Next big social event, you’re in. ]]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->karma]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- -------------[[Karma->chapter 1]]------------- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- -----[[Chapter 1 - Reunion->start]]----- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You decide to find the princess through the process of elimination. Waiting patiently for the best possible moment to approach her. It will probably take more time, but you think it's best to be cautious when in [[uncharted territory]].

Lots of people, all drunk and partying... They won’t notice one more hooded figure in the shadows. They seem like a regularly partying type of culture, shouldn’t take too long. Hopefully their princess will attend. That’s a thing princesses do, [[right]]?

You spend the next hour or so regaling them with your most recent exploits. The crazy cockroach dude that sicked his insect swarm on you for tresspassing too close... That cool dagger you won in a game of five finger fillet with a mean looking old lady who may or may not have been an automaton in disguise... (T loved that one, saying you both should have another of your showdowns at some point before you go.) OH! And there was that time the ground literally opened up and *screamed* at you. That was a weird one. That plant just buried in there, all teeth and vine-like tongues [[snapping]] at your heels as you hightailed it outta there...

Fuck, that'd been a close one. The wounds on your calves had only *just* faded to scars. And it's as you're yanking your boots back on, done showing off said new scars, that you finally [[ask T about their letter]].

They get all serious for a second before devolving into a familiar animated enthusiasm. They start telling you about this grand tournament coming up. Saying it’s the biggest event to happen in the Arena since that one king came to visit and offered up his [[dragon]] as a champion.

“Winner gets a favour from every house in attendance!" They boast, arms flailing. "Can you imagine that shit?? Literally *everyone* owing you one??” “Not much of a reward if no one shows up to watch though." You counter, obviously the more level-headed of you both. "Seems like a gamble. Especially since you could, yaknow, *die*.” Or maybe you're just [[cynical]].

“Oh, come *onnn*,” they whine, “you know that one time was just an *accident*. We could *so* do that shit! We could go in there, guns blazin’, like we always said we would!" Hmm, hello nostalgia. Your old friend. "Or we could at least give it a go!" They rally back again when they see you give, just the tiniest bit. "Come on. You and that fancy new knife of yours. Me and old faithful here.” They pat their pistol fondly, removing it from it’s holster on their thigh to give it a [[skillful twirl]].

Huh. You’d thought they were drunker than that to suggest such a ridiculous thing. Maybe not, then? But still, drunk or no, this sounded stupid, and dangerous, and a waste of time. A waste of resources too, really. You only had so many [[sweets and bandages]] left at the moment…

But hell, if you didn’t remember having this exact conversation with them as kids. Fantasizing and scheming to one day enter the Arena and show everyone that you weren’t just some *coddled babes* too soft to take a hit from a robot. To wipe the floor with every last one of them, as an unstoppable team… You would’ve been [[pulverised]], of course. But kids can dream, can’t they?

But, to be honest, if you ever had a chance to make it in the Arena… it would probably be now. Plus, it was supposed to be a non-lethal competition, so you *prooobably* won’t die in there... You didn’t really have any [[plans]] after this, anyway.

“So??? What do you say?” [[...->parents]]

What if your *parents* attended? It never used to be their scene, but what do you know? You haven’t seen them in at least a decade. That’d be pretty fuckin awkward. Seeing your only child that ran away years prior all grown up and fighting in a local tournament for [[fun]].

“You remember why I’m *not* supposed to be here, right T? You ain’t drunk that much it wiped your brain, have you?” “What??? Nooooo." They turn to you fully then, completely forgetting about their half empty bottle left on the bar to inspect you. "We’ll just cover you up some more, get you one of those face mask things. Maybe even draw on some extra freckles or some shit! Ain’t noone gonna know that you’re that little gangly thing that left one of the [[Dulante]] kids at the altar all those years ago."

They take their free arm, the one holding the gun, and drape it around your shoulders easily. An old sense of comradery settling the sudden intrusive thought of gun-shoulder-head-*BAD*. They do seem *really* [[set on this]]... And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited at the idea too.

It feels like a wave of child-like giddiness is buzzing in your limbs as you think more on it, but not quite think on it enough to rationalise yourself out of it. You grin, wide and [[feral]].

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->chapter2]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

*Dulante.* THAT was the name! You'd been racking your brain trying to remember that for [[dayyyys]].

“I mean, look at you!" T carries on, just as enthusiastic. "All menacing and broody and shit." "Plus," they continue, leaning in as if they were conspiring a murder or something, "I’mma be in disguise too, just to make you feel better. Ain’t noone gonna put two and two together. We’ll just be another pair of travellers wandering through who decided to get a taste of that good ole [[Skirone bloodsport]]!”

This is probably a horrible, *horrible*, [[horrible]] idea.

But, fuck it. You only live for so long anyway. And the way you’re going, it’s probably best to get all the good shit out the way while you can. You never know what’s gonna happen out there. You take a breath. [[“I’m in.”]]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- ---[[Chapter 2 - The Arena->The Arena]]--- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You stand at the entrance. The huge, metal slab of a door the only barrier between you and that empty field out there. There's a breeze whistling through it somewhere. You can hear it in the stillness that preceeds it opening. Behind you, the other contestants seem to honor the silence. Or maybe they're just too scared shitless to break it. It *is* a very [[intimidating door]].

T shuffles up next to you, as if sensing the unease in the air, and clasps a hand to your shoulder. They're excited, you think, but their grin seems a bit off. A bit forced. Maybe the [[nerves]] got to them too?

And then there's a juddering, clanking sound. The gate is being lifted, you realise. The metallic tang in the recycled air fading as that breeze gusts in along with that little sliver of light, rising from your feet like a cleansing [[horizon]].

God, those lights are fuckin [[bright]].

Did they have to store all the contestants into little dark boxes before thrusting them out into a field that is basically a polished mirror? *God fucking shit*, you have to shield your eyes even more than they already are. And that's saying something given the extra scarf and goggles you now have on (courtesy of T). You look fucking ridiculous, like some duster from the desert plains that just stopped by and left their buggy by the grazing horses. *Buuut*, you'd much rather look ridiculous and not be imprisoned than the [[opposite]].

You take a breath, bracing yourself. God, and it's loud. You never realised how loud it'd be down on the arena floor, but it's fuckin *loud*. The crowd is losing their shit, cheering and clapping, waving flags and lights of all colours and sizes. It's a sight to [[behold]].

You step out into the arena proper, one foot after the other, and everything suddenly amplifies. [[You're really here]].

You're hard pressed to remember exactly what each of those colours mean... But you know that there's some sort of system to them, like a house's coat of arms, or a champion's personal colours. You suddenly remember how seriously these matches are taken, as if it'd just occured to you. Not during the lengthy screening and registering process you and T bluffed your way through. Not when you were being searched for explosives above 3rd tier grade. Not even on the journey across the bridge to get here. As if those moments hadn't even really happened. It'd all just been a blur that you didn't actually experience. [[Until now]].

You're [[really->arenachoice]] here.

You're really here and everything is happening. The contestants fan out in their own directions and groups, presenting themselves to the crowd, some preening and strutting like prized cattle. Others holding themselves with strength and integrity, giving a sense of pride to the whole ordeal. You wonder which of these categories you fall in, with your head down and steps steady. You look to your left, and there's T, boasting. Oh God, why did you think you could perform like this??? / [[I don't know I don't know I DONT KNOW-]] / [[Everything will be fine, stop worrying so much. Everything. Will be. Fine.]] / [[Bitch, I was BORN for this.]]

You move with the crowd steadily as it disperses into the field, keeping as respectfully close to T as possible. You'll get through this. You want to get through it, and you will. And you'll have a damned good time while you're at it. Nerves ain't gonna stop you from fucking this shit [[UP]].

You ready yourself, head lifting, now held high and proud. The crowd is pulsing like a livewire, releasing an energy that is contagious as it spreads through the champions and contestants. Sounds and colours merging into one big cacophony of noise. There's tension there as well, the kind that charges you up for battle, readies you in a way you can feel in your gut. It's [[intoxicating]].

Shitshitshitshit[[shit]]shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit-

Boots tied, check. Dagger in hand, check. You did pick up your herb sweets, right? Yep, there they are, on your hip. [[Check]].

Okay. Okayokayokay, it's all cool. Nothing is even happening yet it's all fine. It's all *fine*. You can do this, piece of piss. Just one foot. Then the other. That's all it is. Steps. Just steps. First step, [[check equipment]].

Okay. You're okay. You always end up okay so just stop it stop it stop- "You doin [[okay there]], dude?"

It's T. [[Thank god]]. You're not sure you could handle one of those well known extravagant fuckers drawing attention to you right now.

You don't even raise your head as you give them a thumbs up with one hand, lightly grasping at your throat with the other. It was a signal you'd established as teens. One that said 'can't talk, struggling, but I do hear you. I am [[listening]].'

A useful thing, really, when you're about to be thrown into a huge battle with mechs of all kinds and your partner goes silent on you. "Okay. I hear you. We need to get to cover though. Can you [[follow?]]"

You nod. Fuck sake. It'd been months since your last one of these. God *fucking* damn it you're better than this. You know you are. Just keep going. Follow T, keep moving those feet. One after the other. [[Just steps]].

There's a voice speaking over everything, you suddenly notice. Deep, echoing, it cuts through the din of the crowd and announces rules, and then names. One by one, the champions are listed off. Some getting more of a reaction from the crowd than others. Some even getting none at all. And then there were those getting boo-ed at and *revelling* in it like a good old story book villain. It's enough of a long list, and a distraction, that when the newcomers are announced (including you and T) you're calm enough to even join T in a polite wave to the crowd. The worst of the panic over. A claxon then rings out, signalling the start of the first round. You take in one of those readying breaths[[...->arenabattle start]]

[["Let's do this."]]

You have your dagger, your wits, and your lifelong friend to watch your back for you. These fuckers don't stand a [[chance]].

The atmosphere just *bleeds* hype as you breathe it all in, and fuck if you ain't ready to fuckin [[wreck shit]].

"Let's fuckin [[do this shit->"Let's do this shit."]]!"

[["Let's do this shit."]]

[[...->battle]]

Swing left, dodge right, dodge left, in for the kill... methodical progression... watch your six, make sure none of them flank you. Another to your right, *quick* [[- duck -]]

That was a close one. Hammer to the chest wouldn't have been a nice way to be phased out of/end the match... Wait. Shit [[- JUMP -]]

Now [[THAT]] was a close one. Almost lost your feet to a blade-armed robot there. Good job T got em before they could swing 'round again.

Time goes on, and as you look up you see that the field is just a mess of men and women all screaming. For good or bad, you have absolutely no fucking idea, but you notice the humans are thinning out by the second as the rounds tick by. You think you might actually have a [[chance at this]].

You both fall into a rhythm easily enough. Once you figured out T's pistol range relative to how far the machines are programmed to travel from their original spawn point, it was a piece of cake. Just a matter of baiting them out close enough to finish them without any of the other contestants getting in the way. This *was* a competition after all. Points mattered as much as survival if you wanted to [[win]].

By your count, it's just turned over to round seven, and you're beginning to feel the strain. Your movements are slower, heavier. And you're relying more and more on T to save your ass from your stupid split-second decisions of which way to roll and who to bait next[[...->colossus]]

And that's when [[it happens]].

There's a current crackling to life around you. You can feel it on your skin, tingles that raise the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck. You can smell it, even. The telltale scent of ozone permeates the air. Faint, but getting stronger and stronger, building up to something [[big]]...

Until there's finally a *snap*, and that 'something big' appears right in the centre of the arena in a blinding cloud of steam and smoke. The crackling sound amplifies into a thunderous roaring noise befitting of a waterfall, dangerously deafening to all underneath it. And then the air clears, and you're not too sure about what [[reality is anymore]].

[["Holy fucking shit."]]

A hulking colossus of metal and wire and *energy* comes prowling out like a herald of fucking destruction. Plumes of mist escape it periodically and water pools in orbs around it, as if in their own little [[fantasy world]] where water actually *does that water is not supposed to do that what the fu*-

You see a furnace is in the centre of it all, releasing heat and magma in veins twisting along its torso, a filigree of fire across the smooth black panelling. This was not in any way, shape, or form like those [[runts]] that'd been thrown at you previously.

Ohhhhh no. This was someone's baby. Their pet project. And they'd finally deemed it ready for a test run. [["Oh fffffuck..."]]

When you finally start having thought processes again, you realize that this is something you most definitely want to be out of range of. Like. [[Now]].

You book it backwards, stumbling a little in your haste, but ultimately you end up vaulting over the same bit of cover as T. "Well...[[That's new]]."

"That's new??? Are you fucking kidding me right now, T?" You quickly check yourself for injuries while you're sat still, being sure to pop a sweet while you can. "A walking building just fabricated itself out of thin air, and all you have to say is 'that's new'???" There's one shallow cut on your forearm, but otherwise you're pretty unscathed. You give T a once over for good measure, even though you're pretty certain you did a good enough job that none of the smaller units got too close. Sure enough, they're all good too, from what you can see [[at least]].

"What? It is!" They counter back heatedly, seemingly just as shook but handling it better. "I ain't never seen one of those fuckers in here before!" You can hear it's footsteps, loud grating scrapes across the smooth floor, as it pretty much decimates the battlefield. There's splashing sounds, as well. And a noise similar to the bellowing of a furnace. You remember it from when you were younger and in your mother's workshop. Before the money changed everything. Shit. Shit shit shit [[SHIT->colossus choice]].

Okay. Okay okay okay, think. THINK, damn it... What did you see? What can you use? / [["The water..."]] / [["The fire..."]] / [["The floor!"]]

There is the introduction to go through first, though. That little speech the presentor does, naming all the champions and their different factions and shit. All that propriety stuff. It's boring as all hell, but it gets the crowd riled up just that little bit more before everything begins properly. When the round number is announced and the mechs start spawning in. Then, it's [[showtime->battle]].

Water... There was a lot of it, all floating around out there and shit. It's got to be important. Possibly something to do with either the power generator or some kind of temperature regulation system. But what can you [[do->colossus choice]] with that information?

It looks like the main power source for the whole contraption... and that coupled with the water just has to make for a very delicate balance on the inside. [[One cracked pipe->colossus choice]] and the whole thing should go up in steam and embers...

Okay, so if it's powered by a very precariously crafted series of tubes and wires, all filled with various fluids, it could be pretty easily messed with. You've just gotta get up there without getting knocked out. [[Or..]]

You could get it to come [[down here to you]].

[[...->could work]]

That could actually work. All its legs are pretty spindley once you get past the massive feet. So, if you could get your hands on something to bind them... maybe some of those [[streamers]]...

You have a [[plan]].

“Cover me.” “Wait, what?” T watches you as you hop over the little wall you’d been using as cover. You can hear them shouting a few seconds later, calling you crazy, insane. A fearful, shocked exclaimation of "what the fuck are you doing" fades into the background, but you’re already [[running at the thing]] by the time they even fully catch on.

You’re gonna have to time this perfectly. There’s definitely a pattern there, somewhere. There always is with these types of machines. You just have to find it by the time you find a way to get off the ground. How are you gonna find it, though?? / [[Stick close to it, study it’s movements, and find an opening.]] / [[Go check the walls around the perimetre. There has to be a way up.]]

You circle it a few times, just to get your bearings, and you notice it swings its arm out every few stamps to rebalance itself. You can use [[that->colloss]].

The walls are as smooth and reflective as everything else in here, but there are some streamers hung in the space between the entrance doors. Long drapes of bright red cloth just hanging there, secured loosely to the walls with rope-ties. Conveniently enough, they seem just as tall as the wall itself. If not, a little [[longer]].

The feet are still a problem though. They have valves on them that spew out excess molten fluid with every firm stamp. The liquid spreads and solidifies in thick sheets, trapping many a champion near enough and leaving them wide open for [[elimination]].

It’s goddamn [[brutal]].

To be honest you’re surprised you’ve lasted this long without getting caught. But you do eventually manage to maneuver yourself on top of one of the valves… and [[instantly]] regret it.

“Fuckshitbollocksfuckfuck*FUCK*,” you string the words together as you bolt along the thing’s limb. It’s a bit fucking hot. Go figure, really. You can even feel the warmth of the metal seeping dangerously quickly through the soles of your boots as you run and climb, using your grapling hook to catch onto the panelling and create some usable footholds. Right, gotta keep moving. Get to one of it's arms, reach one of those streamers... [[Piece of piss->it's targeted you]].

*Perfect*. You have your way up. You start your [[climb->it's targeted you]].

You suddenly hear a loud, echoing *BEEP*, and then notice the red laser dot on your chest. It’s targeted you. It’s finally targeted and locked on to you, and you can’t see anyone else left down there to draw it's attention [[away]].

Oh [[fuck]].

Okay. Okay okay okay. It's fuckin [[showtime]].

It reaches it's rake-like hand out for you, water droplets spraying your cloak as you launch yourself upwards, narrowly escaping it’s grasp. The cloth of the flag below you tangles in it’s fingers, catching on the hinges, and *that’s* when you cut it loose from it's pole. You drop, sliding down the length of it, swinging with the momentum to wrap it around one of the colossus' legs, right under the ‘knee’ hinge so it gets caught in the mechanisms there. Then you're on the floor again and running. Running as fast as your feet can carry you between it's legs and over the puddles at it's feet. You have to use it's own strength against it at this point, tangling the cloth where you can, all those little nooks and crannies no one thinks would be a problem, but [[you know otherwise]].

Good job that cloth was somehow strong enough to withstand it's thrashing as it tried to crush you. The weaving motions you'd used soon rendered it sufficiantly stunned and unstable enough for it to stumble in exactly the direction you wanted it to. It slips, crashes to the ground, and you need to get in there fuckin [[quick]] if you want to end this now.

It's thrashing even harder now, like some weird amalgamation of metal fish out of water and caught in a net. But you manage to traverse the labyrinth that is this thing's appendages to get to the core in it's torso. Which one? / [[Cut the red wire.->lll]] / [[Cut the blue wire.->lll]]

You reach down with your dagger to cut the wire, but before you can you're grabbed and dragged down from behind. You kick and bite but this fucker get's you in a fucking choke hold so fast all you can remember before the darkness takes you is your distinct thought process of 'if this fucker takes credit for this I [[swear to FUCKING GOD-]]'

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->chapter3]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- -----[[Chapter 3 - The Job->jobchapter]]----- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

When you come to the first time, all you can see is the floor beneath you moving. There's a haze over everything, like when you're looking through someone elses glasses. Everything just looks... off. There's a headache there, as well. It's starting to throb just behind your eyes. And fuck, moving ain't helping it fade any. God, you feel like [[utter shit]].

It was so hard just to keep your eyes open. You need to though. You have to stay awake. Stay aware. You don't know what's happening you need to find out have to find T have to- But... it's just so much easier to slip back under again. To welcome the [[dark]] creeping in the corners of your vision...

The next time you open your eyes you make sure to *keep them OPEN*. No blinking for too long. No blacking out like a little bitch. God, that shit is so bad for your brain how could you let yourself go like that[[-]]

You're still moving, you notice. Being dragged forwards by the arms by some big burly mechs. [[Fan-fucking-tastic.]]

At least they were nice enough to hook their arms *under* your armpits so your face doesn't drag along the floor. Granted, your boots would need a shine after this, but honestly you'll take what you can get in this kind of [[situation]].

Not the [[first time]] you've been drugged and dragged to god knows where.

And thinking on that you really need to re-evaluate your prior life decisions, given they've somehow led to you being able to [[actually say that]].

[[...->life decisions]]

But yeah, being bodily dragged through some really dark hallways, although familiar, is not how you thought this day would go. You're not even sure who you could've pissed off [[so badly]] that it would even warrant an impromptu kidnapping...

You quickly check to see if your hood's still there. Yup. Goggles too. So whoever it is either already knows who you are, or isn't bothered by that at all, and is more interested in what you've [[done]].

Shit, what have you done in the last 48 hours? Wait no, what if it *is* your parents?? You doubt they'd actually want anything to do with you specifically, proud as they are, but still there's always that possibility of them wanting *something*... Everybody always wants [[something]].

Just as you're contemplating all of the ways you could have possibly fucked up in the last few days, you're tossed into what looks (and smells) like a prison cell. Fuck sake. You bet it *is* your parents. This is probably your father's way of being petty and punishing you for everything you've 'done to them' with your '[[inappropriate behaviour]]'.

You blink, allow yourself that much of a repreive, and it must have been a longer blink than you thought it'd be, because when you open your eyes again you're looking at polished marble instead of metal. The off-white stripes inbetween the tiles all merging together into a distant fog... You don't even manage to put two and two together before you're [[fading again]].

Ahh [[fuck->T]].

The bots close the gate behind you with a definitive clanging noise. The lock and bolt sliding into place shortly after. Welp. You done fucked up [[somewhere]] here.

"Oh, thank fuck you're alright." ... [["T?"]]

"God, am I glad to see you breathing. I'd thought the worst when they didn't throw you in here sooner..." They're in the cell next to yours, holding onto the bars with their head leaning heavily between them. They look ragged, and too relieved to see you for this to be anything but a very *bad* situation. "Wait, why the fuck would I be dead?" You ask, confused all over again. "And who's 'they'??" They obviously knew something you didn't if they were as [[shook up->ARGUMENT]] as they looked.

“WELL I DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO ACTUALLY *WIN*!" They bite back, words just as venomous and angry. Accusing *you*. "WHAT HAPPENED THAT LAST ROUND?? WHEN DID YOU GET SO FUCKIN STRONG??? YOU USED TO BE A WEED [[WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED???]]”

"There's always a fucking wall," you mutter to yourself, sick of this shit all over again. "Why is there [[always]] a fucking wall?"

No need to go crashing parties and making a [[spectacle of yourself]].

[[...->party]]

It smells nice, like grass clippings mixed with rain. And the view ain't half bad either when you get high enough to see over the first set of tree canopies. You choose a secure little knook to sit, have a rest, and enjoy it for a moment. God knows the next time you'll be able to do that. You look out, and it's only the green of the forest for as far as the eye can see. And then the sky just opens up to swallow everything. The first of the triple suns bathing everything with warm light, and you realise very suddenly that you're probably one of the only people to ever see this. *The* only person to see it exactly as you are now. It's actually the first time you've ever felt truly alone in the world in years, and you're [[okay with that]].

The world is [[so much more]] than what you are, anyway.

But anyway, you've got a wall to climb. There's got to be an opening [[somewhere->thornwall]] here.

You keep going, taking regular breaks for sleep, snacks, and the odd drink or two... You have the idle thought of what it'd be like to live in a wall like this. It's like you're in another world for a little while, completely cut off from everywhere else. Granted it'd also come with the imminent threat of one wrong step sending you tumbling down to a very probable death, but hey, at least it'd be pretty much [[instantaneous]] from this height.

You keep going, getting more and more [[frustrated]] with each swing and *thunk* of your blade against the solid mass of root.

After you've wasted valuable energy on trying to cut a single root with a width bigger than your entire body length-wise, you decide it's probably wiser to go over the problem, rather than through it. [[Dumbass.]]

Well. [[Here we go again.]]

You sure you don't wanna stop now? You'll probably wear yourself out otherwise. / [["..."]]

/ [[Bitch]]

/ [[I]]

/ [[Will]]

/ [[Cut]]

/ [[You]]

[[Your call.]]

You spend many an hour on that one single root. Making absolutely no progress whatsoever. Are you happy now? Will cutting this root make you [[feel better]]? At any point??

Or are you just seeing [[if you can]]?

Because I'm telling you now, that root ain't budging for [[anything]].

Even your fire enchantment isn't leaving so much as a [[scorch mark]]-

[[...->fire]]

[[That'll do it.]]

You'd sunk your blade into the bark as far as it'd go. Granted that wasn't all that far, but it was far enough. A small fire bursted from the incision, shrivelling the insides of it up into dust. That singular section of the root crumbles in front of you, and you're free to move onto the next. [[Lucky fucker.]]

You make it to the other side by sundown, and, to be honest, you feel pretty good about yourself for it. First obstacle's been taken care of. On to the [[next]].

Still though, you have to come back to reality at some point. Can't brew your own beer on top of a bramble bush like this. How'd that even [[work]]?

It's close to sun set when you finally see it. A gap where you can see the other side [[and->Lucky fucker.]] also fit through without the fear of either getting stuck, or falling and impaling yourself on a thorn. God that sun is pretty though. Turning the sky an angry red like that. You're kind of sad to be on the opposite side of the wall and miss the full display, but you've come here for a job, you remind yourself. Not to sight see.

You carry on through the trees on foot, the roots big enough to be the bridges you take to travel further east. You'd gained enough experience in the past to know which trees to leave be, which ones are fine, and which ones you should give a wide fuckin berth, so the journey isn't all too difficult. You camp once to get an hour or so of shut-eye, and then set off again. By the crack of dawn, you reach [[it]].

Another. Fucking. [[Wall]].

To be honest, you can't be too mad. It's not even half the size of the last one. But it is made out of [[stone]]. You're not too sure what to make of that.

Stone meant hand made. And hand made meant people. Guess you made it? [[Yaaaaay]].

You take a moment from your avid *excitement* to acknowlege just how big what you're doing is. These people want nothing to do with the outside world, but you're going to have to sneak your way into their society, and then abscond with their princess in tow. God, you hope she's the agreeable type. Or just nice in general, to be honest. Maybe have a rebellious streak? Shit, how were you going to do this if she was one of those prim and proper types? Drag her kicking and screaming? Fuck you can't do that that's actual kidnapping you can't kidnap a goddamned [[princess]] you fucking-

You hear a chain rattle somewhere. ...[[Drawbridge]]?

God, you hope so. You'll be damned if you're climbing another [[fucking wall]] this week.

You walk along the wall towards the sound, and sure enough, there's a drawbridge. [[Thank fuck]].

There are people crossing it. Tall, lanky people, all in straight lines and dressed in armour with sharp edges and bright gold and purple bodysuits. Fancy. Probably some special military faction. People never changed, no matter how different or far apart they are, there's always a military. Which spells trouble for you. Had they just finished a patrol? God that's good timing on your part. The early hours were always good for [[sneaking]].

It was a close one, but you somehow manage to get inside without the soldiers or the archers in the towers catching you. One had almost clocked on when you'd ducked into a backstreet, so you hid in a nearby crate of... some kind of root vegtables(?) until he [[passed by]].

You take a calming [[breath]].

You did it. You fuckin' [[did it]].

You can't believe it. You'd laugh if you didn't think you'd get found and stabbed for it. While you're sat there, you think to put that scarf and those stupid goggles back on. Less to see, less to identify as foriegn. You also need to find a different hiding place to stay in. You'll probably be here a while, and since an inn is definitely out of the question... You'll find [[something->dsfgdf]].

[[You always do->The kingdom]].

The next party happens within a week. And in that week, you'd gotten used to slinking about in the shadows, lifting an apple or something from a market stall and leaving some gold pieces in it's place. You're not sure what currency they use here, if they even use currency, but it felt skeevy to just take from them and not give anything back. You weren't raised that way. Everyone had to make a living somehow. But yeah, there was a royal party happening in the castle on the hill, and *everyone* was talking about it, since they were all invited. Looks like there'll be enough people for you to merge in with... [[Hopefully->party start]].

Eventually, after observing the castle for a while, you decide that entering with the servants would be the easiest route. They tended to be shorter, and wore these full-face veils with baggy white robes, so you could probably get away with passing as one for a little while. It's just to get in, you tell yourself. Suddenly so, so glad you'd started wearing gloves as a norm some time ago. You'll ditch it when you're in. Stick to the shadows, and you should be fine. Just stick to the shadows... That's not what [[happens]].

[[...->week]]

It takes about a week until something noteworthy happens. There was a party at some point, you'd seen the lights and flocks of brightly dressed people on the hill from all the way down in the markets. They were all heading towards the royal castle at it's peak, where the party was being held. An event open to the entire kingdom, so you'd heard while eavesdropping. Seemed like fun. You'd toyed briefly with the thought of going up there yourself. The princess could *possibly* be there, you mused. It was the castle, afterall. Where else would a princess spend her life? Only thing is... you'd not heard any mention of her the entire time you'd been in the kingdom. Not a peep. Not from the market stalls, not the kids, not even from any of the soldiers on duty. It was enough to make you think that *maybe* [[there was no princess]].

That's when you see them all scatter out the doors and run down the hill, as if being chased by a pack of feral beasts. [[Huh]].

You hear stories of a princess after *that*. And all of them were spoken the next morning in hushed tones. They were all [[scared]].

Not of her, you think. Maybe *for* her? Something *bad* had happened up there last night, but all you could gather was that the current queen was dead, and the princess wasn't much better. They say she's being holed up in 'The Temple'. You think this to be that one building with the painted glass windows and constantly smoking chimney in the centre of the kingdom. A long ways above the markets, but not quite anywhere near the schools or blacksmiths up top. It always stunk of incense around there. At least you knew why now, though. If it *was* a [[temple]] of some sort, that'd just make sense.

This was weird. So goddamn weird. Once the morning had come and gone, you'd had a chance to see the kingdom in action. And it was weird. The people here were pretty much *blue*. None of them wore shoes, ever. All of ‘em had docked ears, and they were all so fuckin lanky you were sure they’d been pulled out the womb and then stretched on a rack their entire pre-pubescent life. Hell, some of the kids you’d seen playing with marbles were nearly as tall as you were. That just [[wasn’t fair]].

You stand at it's front doors in the light of the morning, wondering how the fuck you're going to get into this fortress of stone. The windows were always locked, the chimney was constantly in use, no back door or even a garden. Your thoughts? / [[Try the front door]] / [[Break a window]]

You're crowded into a small group by the most intimidating 4ft lady you've ever seen. She's wearing an apron styled robe which makes you think 'chef', so she's probably your 'superior' or something. Then you're ushered to grab a platter with bottles and glasses on it which, holy shit was that shit glowing?? Or was it the glass making it seem that way?? Before you can think on it anymore you're shoved none too kindly out of a revolving stone door and into the goddamned *ballroom*. [[Oh fuck]].

Keep cool. It's fine. You can do this. Just circle around, stay quiet, and whatever you fucking do don't drop the shit. Last thing you need is to make a loud crash when you're supposed to be an invisible royal servant. Just let things [[run their course]].

After a while you come to a conclusion. Being a servant, while fucking boring as fuck, was probably the best decision you'd made so far. You're pretty much invisible to most, and to others you're only as important to the as the drinks you can offer them. All in all, you're learning a [[shit ton]].

Mainly who's sleeping with who, but still a shit ton. Like how the current king was only recently widowed, and remarried right after the late queen's funeral pyre. Like, goddamn. Shady as fuck, right? Poor woman. Cheated on while on her deathbed. You hope she [[haunts him]].

Just as you have that thought, you're approached. It's a woman, a head taller than you and dressed in swathes of gold. You look up and it looks like someone had made a nest out of the dark hair on her head. A very elegant nest of ribbons and curls, but still, you're not sure hair is supposed to do that and stay put. The natural laws of physics still worked on these people, right? That wasn't something you'd missed? Anyway, she walks up to you calmly, eyeing up what you'd now guessed was, indeed, alcohol, and wearing the best poker face you'd ever seen. Must've been a rough night. You say as much, given you're relatively secluded over here and bored out of your mind. Plus, being silent isn't really getting you anywhere fast. Had to dip your toe in [[some time]].

To your surprize, her expression changes so fast it could have given you whiplash. Even through the veil you saw their eyes visibly change shape, the blue ring of their iris expanding into the saddest, most frustrated puppy eyes you'd ever seen. Then, it was gone again. A blank slate. And god, that was fuckin weird. "You have no idea." She says back, and you actually believe it. You have absolutely no fucking idea. They could be a dignitry, a merchant, a priestess, literally anything. The gold tells you nothing, because anyone who was anyone was wearing some varient of it. From the king sat in the throne, to that one weird lady that wouldn't shut up about rocks for about half an hour. She did have [[darker hair]] than anyone else there, though... Maybe that said something?

God, look at you. You're just stabbing in the dark now. You need something solid. You know it's the king and queen up there on the dais. And there is one empty seat next to the king. So there is a child or heir of some sort here somewhere. You've just got to [[find them]].

You hand the woman a glass in the most respectable way you can muster, filling it all the way to the top. Given how done they'd sounded, they definitely needed it. They take a [[sip]].

"You must be Roderyck's youngest sibling, [[yes]]?"

You stutter once you realise the question was directed at you. God, what do you say? / [["Er..."->Conversation]] / [["Yep, that's me!"->Conversation]]

"He said he was trying to get you a job. I see he succeeded. I'm glad." She seems sincere in her words as she takes another sip, looking directly into her glass afterwards, swirling the glowing liquid. She must be done if she's choosing to stay near a servant rather than [[mingle]].

She's quiet as she stays near, probably keeping tabs on the bottle you're holding on your tray. You're not complaining. She's better company than the rest of them, who all look down their noses at you and any other servant that crosses their path. But it does limit what you can do in terms of information gathering. It's like you've made a [[silent agreement]] to stay put or something.

You decide to break the silence. Weirdly comfortable as it was, there was definitely an undercurrent of something there, and it was starting to make you anxious. / [["You okay?"->drink]] / [["Another drink?"->drink]]

She turns to you with the smallest grateful smile that seems to say more than her words. "As long as you keep offering to fill my glass, tonight might not be so [[insufferable]]. Thank you."

"Everything is exquisite, my dear. As is customary with every one of your father's grand soirees." He says, in a voice so full of itself you could feel your eyes roll. But then you do a double take. ... [[No.]]

That's the fucking princess and here you are making small talk like an idiot. Well... You ain't dead yet. That's got to mean something good, right? [[Right?]]

You give her another once over. Look at how she analyses the Duke. How she does it without him knowing that she's doing it. The grace with which she handles him, insults him without actually insulting him, a behaviour you'd once delighted in yourself, but in no way could pull off without getting into serious shit... *'your father's grand soirees'* Oh shit. [[That's the princess.]]

The Duke leaves soon after, well and truly snubbed in the kindest, politest way ever, and you can't help but feel you missed [[something else]] in their exchange.

"I think he's sleeping with my father." The woman, the *princess*, says casually. You almost choke on your own spit, taken off guard by the [[admission]].

"Are you well?" She asks you, the crease in her brow showing concern. Actual concern. But before you can answer, a gust of wind enters the hall like water, and you're hard pressed to keep your platter from falling *and* your veil down at the [[same time]].

"Good evening, my lady." Ah, shit. Another noble. Male this time. And one you knew, sort of, if you cared to remember a name... "Good evening, Grand Duke Lyspatche." The woman greets back, features once again schooled into that expressionless mask. "It's so lovely to see you again. The third time this week, in fact. I hope everything is to your liking?" Her words were calm and collected as she talks with the man initiating pleasantries with her. As impressive as it is, seeing that switch, it's pretty [[painful]] to watch.

But then, just as you fear you've been sussed out, there's the [[scream]].

It pierces the air, blood curdling in it's frequency, and you can't help but cringe at the sound of it in your eardrums. The princess though, she physically recoils at the sound as if it pained her, but then she's running towards the cause of it like a woman possessed. You can hear her bare feet thudding in the silence that followed the scream, and you decide to follow her towards the dais. You wish you [[hadn't]].

There, sat in the queen's throne, was a limp, bleeding body, who looked nothing like the queen, but most definitely was her. Lacerations carved up her face, and one of her eyes had been gouged beyond recognition. Dark blood pooled in her lap and plastered her once fair hair to her not so face-like face. A face that was now stuck with the expression of a silent scream. It was a fucking [[horror show]].

You quickly put yourself between the princess and whatever the fuck is happening. You need her, and if she dies here that's game over for you and T. As you do this, you see the crowd parting and pulsating with fear, all of them moving this way and that to either get away or get closer to see to the danger. As if it were a [[spectacle]] to see. Could you blame them? It's what you did at first thought.

Then you see the shadow above the corpse. It has no form, no shape. Nothing about it is solid, and yet it moves like a force, looming ominously over the dead woman with a presence that said it was *pissed*. It pulsed again, frayed at the edges, and then it was wrapping itself around the woman's head again. Whisps swirled, cocooned, engulfed, spinning tighter and tighter until something gave. It was the woman's [[other eye]].

"Oh my fucking fuck what the *fuck*-" It turns to [[you->shadow]].

It surges forward, and for one deathly still second, you could've sworn it was all over. But then it phases through you. And it's the most bizarre feeling you've ever felt. Like someone touching each and every one of your organs at once while you're drunk off your ass. Now that. That's never fucking [[happened before]].

You turn when you realize you're still breathing, see the smoke entity surrounding the princess, lifting her dangerously high into the air. [[SHIT.]]

It all happens so fast after that. She drops as the smoke disperses into thin air, and your attempt to catch her is feeble at best. Hurt like fuck, too. But you did catch her. She's unconscious. Breathing. Whole. But unconscious. To be honest, you expected a lot [[worse]].

She's scooped up from your arms by some buff dude in uniform, and when he turns to leave you can't help but think bitterly, 'and where were you 2 minutes ago, huh?' ... You suddenly realise you've put yourself in a very compromising position, sat there in the middle of the hall, where it all happened not seconds ago. You stand to follow, to bolt, but then *you're* being scooped up by another dude who's built like a brick shit-house, how are these people so fucking strong [[what the fuck- ]]

You struggle like fuck, hoping to break their hold and flee, but then you notice they're taking you the exact same way as the princess. Will you go quietly? / [[Like fuck I will LET ME FUCKING GO-->Temple]] / [[Can't risk losing sight of her... If shit goes wrong I'll book it, but until then...->Temple]]

Either way, you end up detained. God fucking damn it, what do those super sodiers [[eat]]?

Damn it, should've just kept out of it. Now you're in some kind of temple, in a guarded room, and you're pretty sure they've figured out you're not a native. You're [[pretty fucked]] at this point.

You need to [[get out of here]]. And then you can go find where they're keeping the princess.

There's [[no way]] that would wor-

You swing around the back of the building again, looking for that one [[floor level window]] you'd seen before.

[[...->well fuck me]]

Well fuck me running, it's unlocked. And there's no-one manning the other side of it. Luck seems to be on your side. [[For now]].

There's two hallways branching off from the main foyer, both lit with several bunches of candles that have melted down into solid, singular masses of wax. Which way? / [[Left.->elusive]] / [[Right.->elusive]]

You find it fairly easily. Not as if it'd moved or anything. After doing a quick check of your surroundings (all clear), you slam the hilt of your dagger into it. The plane shatters into tiny pieces that fall uncerimoniously to the floor. You brace for any sign of attention the [[sound]] may have caused.

[[...->window]]

Nothing. Good. You have your [[way in]].

You step in carefully, making sure to avoid the broken glass on your way through. No need to get a silly injury like that at a time like this. You look up, and you can either go left or right. Which way? / [[Left.->elusive]] / [[Right.->elusive]]

[[...->hallway]]

The process wasn't an easy one, but you somehow managed to get yourself out of that room and into one of the many empty hallways. Time to find little miss [[elusive]].

You're [[lost]] before you know it.

Good job, dude. Congrats. You're lost in a [[creepy as fuck]] monestary.

As if to prove that point itself, the next corner you turned, there was a mural. Artistically speaking, it was gorgeous. Swirls of dark blue and purple painted a sea of shadows, and in that sea iridescent sparks of crystal surrounded a woman-like creature, chained to the seafloor. Was it a sea? You think it is, with the way everything was floating in the image. It was [[beautiful]].

Except... the woman had no [[eyes]].

She was sightless, and yet she saw straight through you. Saw everything that could ever possibly be seen in your very soul and it creeped you the fuck out. You look away, physically turning yourself away from the wall, and you see a [[lit doorway]].

It's a staircase. And it leads down. ... Might as well, right? It's not as if you're making any real progress yet. What could be the [[harm in it]]?

You head down, bracing yourself on the cold stone wall. Each step you take echoes and bounces back to you. God, this whole set up just set your nerves on edge. It practically vibrated with bad energy. You half expected someone to randomly scream the phrase [['IT'S BEHIND YOU']] from the bottom of the stairs.

You're walking for minutes before you hear something other than your own breathing in the darkness. And it's accompanied by a flickering blue light from below. It's a voice, pained and whimpering. But then there are other voices as well, singing low and humming an eery tune you just know you'll never be able to forget. But then the light flashes bright in the hallway, illuminating the last few steps you need to take. And then the [[screams]] start.

[[Wherever that was.]]

God, those screams will haunt your fucking [[nightmares]].

You peek around the corner, and the words tumble from your mouth before you can even think to stop them. *[["What the fuck."]]*

You're in an observation room, filled with people in dark robes. And beyond the glass they're looking through... There's a woman tied down, the one screaming, and another woman is... drawing on her? Leaving lines of light in her bare skin while a choir sings that strange ballad all around them, all of them holding candles and wreathes and incense burners... You feel like you've just walked into either a very important ritual, or a very barbaric one. Possibly both. And you feel [[sick to your stomach]].

"What the *fuck* is going on," you repeat. No. You *demand*. But no eyes turn to you. No one even moves so much as an *inch*. They watch the events beyond the glass like people posessed. Like if they were to look away, for even a second, something catastrophic would happen. So you get [[louder]].

[["WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE!"]]

You're ready to start causing a real scene if someone doesn't fucking fill you in soon. A restrained and screaming woman is not. Fucking. *Normal.* You have to help somehow. Have to get to the other side of the glass, have to stop them have to- You're cutting your way through the onlookers when you're suddenly bombarded from behind and tackled to the [[ground]].

No amount of thrashing could help you, there was just too much weight, too many bodies, too many arms picking you up and carrying you out and up- One of them finally has enough of your shit and pricks you on the neck with something. You're [[out like a light]] before they reach the top of the stairs.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->chapter5]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- ----[[Chapter 5 - Break out]]---- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It's been three days since that night you interrupted the [[ritual]].

And it was a ritual. Someone had finally - *finally* - told you so. Not in the kindest terms, but at least they had the decency to tell you [[why]] it was happening.

They'd been near constant the first night. Long bouts less than minutes apart. You'd [[counted]].

It was an exorcism, of sorts. Something about her royal bloodline making her prone to possession. Just when you thought things couldn't get any fucking [[weirder]], the princess you needed to recruit might possibly be fucking *possessed*.

Not that any of that really mattered right now, anyway. You'd been thrown into another one of those chambers. One exactly like you'd seen the princess being as good as tortured in. Except that it was dark, and empty. You bound exactly as she'd been. They check on you every few hours, providing food, water, let you take care of your business, but you know better than to think that's an exclusively good thing. Could just be biding time until the current matter is dealt with and want you to survive until then. You haven't slept. Not really. The screams hadn't [[let you]].

The second, you're not too sure. Could've been actual screams, could've been your mind playing tricks on you in the dark. They were pretty much the only thing you could hear down there, so it was a good possibility your brain would conjure up the sounds to make itself feel better. Sensory deprivation was one [[hell]] of a fuck-y thing. Made you think screams were better than silence.

The third - you think, at least. They'd suddenly stopped checking on you so time was also pretty fuck-y at that point - everything was... Just still. You wonder idly if these rooms were originally meant to be like dungeons, or if that came later. The building did seem [[pretty old]]. Older than the castle, even. Not that it mattered any, really.

[[...->temple cell]]

You're not sure you can pull another escape out your ass with this one. Shackled as you are. And with fewer and fewer visits from what you assume to be members of the temple... But what else can you do? Sit and wallow in your own misery? No-can-do dude, you've gotta get out there. T is counting on you right now to *not die horribly*. You need to sort yourself *out* and *think* of something. *[[Fast.]]*

God, you're so *[[fucked.]]*

[[So?]]

/ [[Check the chains.]] / [[Check the walls the chains are attached to.]] / [[Check the floor.]] / [[Check yourself.]] / [[Check the door.]] / [[... I got nothing.]]

Yup. There they are. Rattling away as you shake them in frustration. You'd been staring at these fucking things for god knows how long, trying to think of some way to break them. If you could somehow get the full-hand cuffs off... You hadn't come up with [[anything->So?]] yet.

Yep. There it is. A wall. The chain fastenings are bolted to it pretty solidly. Ain't no way you're [[budging that->So?]].

Your feet are on it, thank god. You're so fucking glad they hadn't suspended you in the air. That shit fucking *hurts*. It's pretty clean, considering. And cold as fuck, since they took your boots along with all your other gear. Why do these people have such a vendetta against shoes? ... But other than that, [[what else->So?]] is there to say?

You'd seen better days. Tired and grimy, you're starting to feel the weight of everything. ... Best not to [[think too hard on it->So?]].

You can't reach it, but you can look at it. It's a solid round stone on a spinning pivot. Like a spinning coin, but, yaknow, heavier. And locked. Or you're pretty sure it is. You'd hear a mechanism shift inside it everytime the person checking on you would close it behind them. Not that it needed to be locked, really. Not like you were [[going anywhere->So?]] anytime soon.

[[Damn it.]]

There has to be a way. There's *[[always a way]]*.

Stories don't just end with "[[And there they died. Stuck in the ass end of nowhere in a secret temple murder dungeon.]]"

That's not how it works. It [[can't]] be.

[[...->boom, princess]]

You [[wait]]. There's not much else you can do.

You're not sure how long it takes, but you know you're fucking starving by the time you next hear that [[door open]].

When they're in the room, you breathe a sigh of relief at the presence of another person down here with you. [[Simple things]].

You don't raise your head when you hear the footsteps pad cautiously towards you on the cold stone floor, choosing instead to listen. They didn't [[lock the door]] behind them.

You don't even take a moment to think about how unusual that is, how abnormal, because you're out of ideas and this stranger just offered you one. This is probably your one and only chance. / [[Use it.]] / [[See what happens.]]

You [[tackle them to the ground]] as soon as the cuffs are off.

You wait, head down in a sign of resignation, solemnly looking at your hands in your lap. You wait even as they reach into your personal space to unlock the cuffs. Cloth-wrapped hands from white puffed sleeves delicately twisting the key in the lock. They hiss between their teeth with the motion. That's when you take notice of the faint [[glow]] bleeding from underneath the wrappings.

It's a desperate move, really. Made with adrenaline rather than tact, but it gets the [[job done]].

Then you see the [[glowing lines]] on their skin.

[[...->tackle]]

Oh shit, you just [[tackled the princess]] oh fuck oh shit oh fuck-

You pause, shook, the light from her marks so bright you're surprised you didn't notice them before you [[threw yourself]] at them.

Why the fuck are they here?? And what the fuck are you doing get up get up apologize you [[fuck->princess meeting]]-

You scramble backwards, so fucking confused you're not sure what to say. What are you [[supposed]] to say???

"I, I apologize, I-" Great, now they're apologizing. And they look fucking terrified. [[Good job]].

"No!" You bark, cringing when they flinch at your tone. "No no no, *I'm* sorry, I'm the one that just assaulted you, I mean-" You pause, take a breath, and then calmly offer your hand to her, hoping against all hope you're not misreading the situation. God, you hope this is some sort of 'fellow detainees breaking out' thing and not that *she's* the one they sent to [[give you food]] or something.

Should you bolt? You could bolt. No one would blame you. Just get up, run, and [[hope for the best]]-

Your head bolts up. It's the [[princess->cuffs]].

She can probably tell from the look on your face that you're confused as fuck, but she doesn't stop to acknowledge it. Just unlocks both cuffs and stands again, as if to leave. ????????? / [[Scramble to follow.]] / [["...what the fuck?"]]

[["W-wait!"->"...what the fuck?"]] You yelp, berating yourself for the way your voice sounded in that one syllable.

"I know you must have questions," she says, quietly, "but we must leave before the Head Priestess realizes I've wandered from my chambers." She speaks well, you notice, but it's with a voice rough from abuse. [[Go figure.]]

"Wait, what?" She's already on her way out the room. You follow, more questions on your tongue. "Was that the woman with the crazy pen that-" "Traveller, please." She's curt as she inturrupts. "We need to be [[quiet]]."

Shit that'd be [[bad]].

Shit, you need her to come with you, you idiot, you can't just hit and run and then come running back like- "[[HEY]], I know we got off on the wrong foot but fancy coming on a week long journey with me to come see this one weird dude that wants to meet you real quick?"

[[...->proposal]]

"Pardon?" ... SHIT DID YOU SAY THAT [[OUT LOUD]]???

She takes your hand though, grunting as she pulls herself up. As if the action took great effort on her part. Which, really, isn't so unbelievable, given [[recent events]].

You stutter, at a loss for words, but trying really hard to provide some that'd make sense in this situation. / [["Why the hell are you here?"->"...what the fuck?"]] / [["What the fuck is even going on?"->"...what the fuck?"]] / [["What?"->"...what the fuck?"]]

Oh. Oh yeah. [[Fair]].

You hold your tongue as you follow the lanky tower of a woman through halls and stairways you most likely would've gotten lost in again should you have done this alone. Good job things had worked out this way, really. You're still confused as to why, though. And you really feel like you should be getting an answer from that [[particular question]] before you trust this woman to lead you out of this stone maze.

"I saw you try to stop them. Before they dragged you out. I felt I should return the favour." You blink, honestly surprised they'd even been coherent at that point. "But I didn't-" "But you tried to. And that is more than what any of my [[own people]] did for me."

"Still, though-" The incense is so thick and dense in the air here you have to stifle a coughing fit into your cloak. The noise still echoes, though, all through the hall of tapestries you're both currently making your way through. The princess stops dead in her tracks, shoulders tense, her ears twitching. She holds a hand out, and you instinctively hold your breath. Those must be some fucking ears she's got on her. You [[can't hear shit]].

It's a few tense moments before she puts her hand down and starts walking again. The danger apparently over. You start again. "Still though, I could be anyone. A thief, or a murderer, or... anything! Why help when you know absolutely [[nothing->princess motive]] about me?"

She's quiet for a while as you traverse the building. It's a lot more empty than you expected it to be, but there are still some 'initiates' in white robes you needed to avoid on the way to the main doors. Turns out they'd been the ones holding onto your stuff. You managed to swipe it all on your way out with the [[princess' help]].

It's day time when you get outside, and you've never been so glad to see the first sun in your entire life. The warmth of it coupled with the fresh - well, fresh-er - air is heavenly to your tired body. Just as you're thanking the universe for this clean break you'd been granted, your companion turns to you with an apologetic look. The light of the day deepening the shadows of guilt on their face. Oh fuck, what's about to go wrong [[now]]?

You ask as much, exhaustion showing in your voice. And her answer was better than you'd thought it'd be. Turns out she just wants to get out of the kingdom, and needs your help to do it. Lucky you, huh? / [["I'd be happy to help. Riiight after some sleep."]] / [["What's the catch?"]]

"Yes, of course. But..." She stops herself, unsure. ... You're gonna regret asking. [["There's more, isn't there?"]]

"Catch?" She seems confused. You're not sure whether it's put on or not. "There's always a catch," you clarify. "Come on then, out with it so we can [[deal with it]]."

Hoooooo was there *[[more]]*.

Because who needs a break in life? Not - fucking - [[YOU]] that's for sure.

She wants to go and pick up something before you both go, and guess where that thing is?? That's right. In the fucking *[[castle]]*.

Hooooooooooo boi was there a [[catch->more]].

"I can go there on my own," she says, and your tired heart almost fucking sings. But still... [["Are you sure?"]]

"There's no need to worry yourself, traveller." Despite the succinct way she dissmisses your concern, her words sound kind, somehow. "You need to rest, and I will find it much easier to traverse the castle unseen on my own. I have spent the last thirty years of my life doing that exact thing, after all." There's no sarcasm there, no humour. Only a statement. And maybe one or two things were starting to make sense to you now. "This way should also allow us to leave more quickly, yes?" She asks, and you can't argue with that logic. Not that you really want to, given your current [[state]].

Wait. "Don't you need rest, too? I'm not the one that got carved up-" "I've rested enough." She's quick to interject, and you're starting to see a pattern. Note to self, *don't mention the marks*. "And I will be perfectly fine." She continues. "Meet me at the main gates by [[high noon tomorrow]]. I will be there."

[[...->main gates]]

Well, here you are. Fed. Well rested. At the main gates. High noon. [[...->where]]

[[Where the fuck is she??]]

You'd been stood here waiting for a good hour, and you were starting to get some weird looks. Turns out travellers weren't so uncommon, apparently. Not every 'elf' wanted to live within the kingdom's walls their whole life. So really you just had to keep your hood up and scarf on. Oh, and not look [[shifty as fuck]].

You [[really->run]] wish you'd known that beforehand.

Shit, you should've gone with her. Subterfuge while exhausted would've been better than this. You're just stood there, waiting. Hoping that this woman, one you hadn't even learned the name of yet, wasn't being held against her will in a castle probably filled to the brim with gaurds, and preists, and initiates or whatever the [[fuck->escape]] those temple people called themselves...

You should've gone. You can feel the anxiety building as you wait longer, wondering if it'd be better to go up there yourself to see what the fuck is going on. Shit, you could miss her though. Take alternate paths to get to each place... What should you do? / [[Go and find her.->GO prompt]] / [[Stay put.->GO prompt]]

Before you can even act on your decision, you look up towards the hill the castle is on. There are people running down from it. A [[lot]] of them.

There were so many you could've sworn there was a dust cloud trailing behind them, just like in those old battle paintings your mother had commissioned that one time. The one with the two armies running head first to collide with one another. You swallow hard, hoping it's [[not]] for you.

[[...->Gate escape]]

You know better than to [[assume]] it's not, though.

As the stampede gets bigger and bigger the closer it gets, you're almost [[certain]] you've caused it somehow.

[["God fucking damnit."]]

You ready yourself to run, bouncing on the balls of your feet to put some use to that anxious energy that's building up in your limbs. Why did you think this was ever going to be [[easy]]?

Sure enough, there's the princess. Or, at least, you think it is. Just at the other end of the markets, making a beeline towards you, weaving and ducking under stalls of all kinds as a white cloak billows out behind her. Wait, was that a longbow on her back?? *Nice*. A range fighter. You could work with that. Aaaand there went that dudes apple stand. [[Poor fucker]].

"Well. *Shit*." You need to get past the gate, need to get it open as quickly as possible so you can both get *[[out]]*-

You scan the chains you can see on this side, looking for a seam in a link you can use your dagger on. You move quickly, grabbing onto the chain and using your heated blade to sever said link. And then you're really moving. your grip on the broken chain propelling you up with it, straight into the watchtower with the control levers. And a very, *very* [[surprised]] watchman.

"Oh, *shit*-" [[-DUCK-]]

It's a good job you'd been there all morning, really. [[And]] that you'd spent most of your time scoping out the bridge for access points that didn't involve shouting up to the people manning the controls to open it for you...

She had some speed on her, though, you'll give her that. The distance between her and what you can only assume is a horde of palace guards was a pretty decent amount. But they were gaining. [[Fast.->gate break]]

Honestly, you'd hoped for the best case scenario of the princess being here by now to do said shouting. But nothing ever happened the easy way anymore, [[did it->gate escape]]?

You narrowly avoid the left hook he swings at you, returning one of your own right ones to his jaw. It knocks him just enough for you to get a foot to reach the release switch, jamming your heel into it with all the might you can muster. You hear the mechanism scream and grind as the drawbridge drops, probably much, much quicker than it was ever supposed to, if the [[crumbling supports]] you can see beneath you are anyting to go by.

You bail, your job already sufficiently done, thank fuck, but not before she takes a swipe at you, catching the very end of your cloak and trapping it in the wooden floor. SHIT FUCK CUT IT [[QUICK]]-

And then, as you're trying to avoid the cracks forming in the tower, that one dude gets back in your face, and his friend must have heard the commotion because in she comes, guns blazing. Or more like stick blazing?? Because that is definitely a halberd and you do *NOT* want to get hit with that thing, no [[sir]].

It's a fucking close one, but you manage to cut and tear the fabric quickly enough to get out of the way of a kick aimed at your head. And then it was out onto a [[window ledge]].

Shit. You never planned a way [[down]].

[["FuckshitbollocksFUCKINGFUCK-"]]

You glance [[down->drawbridge moat]].

Then there's another swooshing sound, the blade of the halberd narrowly missing your fucking *head*, and you decide to take your chances. You leap for it, the ledge collapsing as you make the [[jump]].

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->chapter6]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[Chapter 6 - A Journey, But In Reverse]] _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It did hurt. A lot. But you're alive at least! [[Yaaaaaaay]].

The gaurds hadn't been able to follow right away, given the state you'd left the bridge in, and the archers didn't have a good enough vantage point over the wall to properly aim at you. So, all in all, a pretty successful departure in your opinion. Altough, the princess had needed to help fish you out before you'd both been able to book it into the [[forest]].

[[...->NAMES]]

You should probably exchange names at some point. Not sure if you can keep referring to her as 'the princess'and not feel rude for doing so. ... Or was that how you're supposed to refer to royalty? Did that change when you travelled with them?? And what if they're technically not *[[your]]* princess?? There were too many semantics-

"Watch yourself, [[Traveller]]!"

"Oh [[SHIT]]-"

That did it. They all flinch, but one barks a single word, what feels like a [[command]], but does not answer you.

Shit, you hope this doesn't hurt as much as you [[think->moat]] it's going to...

You could jump for it?? There's water under the drawbridge, maybe it's deep enough to [[not->bridge]] break your shins??

Aaaaand you're tripping, falling, and landing somewhere you didn't really want to be right now thank you [[very]] much universe that'll do for now *THANKS*-

You've gotten yourself into a little knook under one of the root bridges... [[Could've been worse.]]

"Are you well down there, Traveller?" You hear from above, and you're hard pressed to just... not answer. You know she means well from her tone, but seriously, you're starting to think that just a single night of sleep just isn't enough. You answer in the affirmative, anyway. No need to be [[that much]] of an asshole.

"Thank the spirits..." ... Well [[now->stuck]] you feel like an asshole anyway just for having the thought in the first place.

But then she's jumping down to follow you, slotting herself to sit right next to you in the cramped space. You don't even have enough time to question it before footsteps are trampling overhead like a thunderstorm beating down on the bark of the bridges. ... [[Huh.]]

You hold your breath waiting for them to pass, and only when absolutely certain there was some distance between you and them did you speak. "That was a close one." You breathe the words out with a sigh of relief, checking the ground beneath you to see if it was safe to stand on. "You definitely know how to make an [[entrance]]."

She doesn't miss a beat. "Perhaps it was more of an [[exit]], than an entrance?"

"Ha! Guess you got me there," you admit, shifting your weight this way and that. Seems solid enough. You sit up, tilting your head back to take in another of those calming breaths before letting it out in an amused huff. "[[One hell of an exit]], if you ask me."

Both of your breaths soon settle, and in the stillness you're reminded of your previous thought patterns. "I, uh. I never did ask your name, by the way." You turn to see her looking at you quizzically, as if waiting for the rest of the sentence. "Which was, um, pretty rude of me honestly. [[Considering]]."

She blinks. Her eyes much rounder than when you'd last seen her outside the Temple doors. She looked innocent almost, hugging her bow to her chest with her knees tucked under her chin. The pose made her look deceptively small. Nothing like the assertive royal that'd pretty much single-handedly broken you out of prison. Probably after breaking herself out first, too... Maybe it was [[situational]] confidence?

You finally decide to bite the bullet, seeing as hinting at a social practice wasn't getting you anywhere. "May I know [[your name]]?"

"Oh! Of course. Since we are to be travelling together, it would only be rational to share names." She straightens her spine, chin lifted, the action made as if rehersed, ingrained into her very being. Her expression looks stiff, though. As if forced unwillingly to snap back into a mask that didn't quite [[fit]] anymore.

Huh. "On a scale from one to ten, how much did that [[hurt to say]]?"

She looks taken aback by your question, so you quickly change tactics. "Got anything shorter for me? Can't really yell out all that when you're the one running face first into a pit, now, can I? It'd just [[take too long]]." You add a smirk at the end, hoping the humour in your tone translates.

"Lyran." She jumps on the question, as if excited at the prospect of someone using her first name. "I much prefer Lyran. [[Please]]."

"Okay! Lyran it is, then." You hold your hand out to shake on it, but she just looks at it all confused again. There's a [[beat]], and then she mirrors the action, pressing the back of her hand into your palm.

But then she asks you for your name, and your brain [[shorts out a bit]].

She's quiet for only a second, and you brace for impact. "Do you not have a name?" How do you [[answer]] *that*?

"Uhh, not really? Not for a long while now, [[at least->name trouble]]."

You have [[absolutely no idea]] how to answer.

What should you say? / [[Uhhhh... 'Traveller' seems to work?->name decide]] / [[Call me... Whatever's easiest?? I guess??->name decide]] / [[Pick a feature?->name decide]]

You can't stand the silence that follows. You stand [[abruptly]].

"'Traveller' should do. It's worked up to now, right? Don't fix what ain't broken and all that..." You're speaking quickly. You know you are. Classic defensive behaviour, but hey! If the princess can have sore subjects then [[so can you]].

"Alright. Traveller it is, then." She says the words so non-chalantly, seemingly perfectly alright with the sudden change. You [[appreciate]] it.

That unbroken stare was really starting to creep you out, though. Did all the elves have eyes like that?? All black where the white was supposed to be and shit?? You didn't really pay much attention to many of them at eye level, and a majority of them did wear either those veil things or helmets, so it was hard to see if they had normal eyes... Well, normal to [[you->name exchange]], you remind yourself.

"My name is Lyran'Ael Yieht Amynros, daughter of High King Aelis Raliv Amynros and Late Queen Lyrin Yieht Amynros." The marks that climb up the side of her neck and onto her chin crease into the corners of her [[frowning mouth]] by the end of the sentence.

[[...->handhold]]

It's weird. And awkward. It's weird and awkward and you can feel the awkwardness seeping into you. But do you really have the heart to actually tell her that that's... not the way??? This usually goes?? / [[Just go with it.->Your name]] / [[Just roll with it, dude. Move on. If you open this can of worms you might make it worse, like, what does a handshake mean in her culture that she would act so confused that you'd offer one?? Shit, do they even have a greeting that involved physical contact-->Your name]] / [[Correct her.->Your name]]

"OKAY. Let's get a move on, then! Hopefully we can circle around those gaurds before they reach my old camping spot. Shouldn't be [[too]] hard."

It wasn't really. The first party you'd come across were all so heavy footed you were able to give them a wide berth from a decent distance away. You'd think they'd have quieter soldiers in a search party, but hey, you're not [[complaining]].

You and Lyran had spent the majority of your time in relatively comfortable silence, but every once in a while she'd pop up with a question. Each much more random than the last. The first was simple enough. She'd asked about your feet. "Are they not too warm? How can you keep your balance with a slither of - what is that? Leather? Wood? The elevated part at the [[bottom]]."

"Do you mean the sole?" You ask, hopping over onto another root when the one you were walking on started curving downwards. "You manufacture material out of [[souls]] for your *feet*???"

[[...->foot convo]]

She sounds like she's honestly ready to believe that, and when you look over you see such an open look of astonishment on her face you're hard pressed to hold back a bout of [[hysterics]].

Fuck it, you laugh anyway. And it feels pretty fucking good to do. You have to stop walking for a second before you *do* lose your balance and end up falling into another, *[[way]]* further down pit.

Your sides are aching by the time you've calmed down enough to look up again. Tears are stinging your eyes as you look up at them, an honest to god shocked look on their face, and that just starts you up [[all over again]].

Eventually you have to take your goggles off to wipe at your eyes, and then you take in some deep breaths to try and calm yourself down. God, you'd [[needed->laugh]] that. It'd been a while.

"Sorry - sorrysorrysorry, I didn't mean, it's just-" Another breath. "No, no we don't. Like. Would that kind of technology even exist??? I just can't imagine it..." She hadn't seemed to have taken any offense from your outburst, and thank fuck for that, really. Travelling together would've been so much more difficult if she'd been the easily offended type. No. She appeared completely nonplussed. As if veiwing a [[novelty]]...

Shit, you were pretty much a novelty at this point, [[weren't you]]??

You're not sure how to feel about that, but it does sober you up some. Enough that you both start walking again, the air feeling a bit lighter than before. It's a while before the next question gets tactfully thrown at you. "Your people... Do they all [[look like you]]?"

And wasn't [[that->your people]] a loaded question?

"Where I grew up they all pretty much did... But then I got out into the world. Met all different kinds of people..." "Where did you [[grow up]]?"

[[...->home]]

"I grew up in a city to the west. [[Skirone->recognition]]."

"The Metal Kigndom???" She suddenly seemed ecstatic, running out in front to get your full attention. "You grew up there? What is it like? Does it truly glow like a hearth fire on the horizon when night falls?? And what of the chasm said to be so deep no light has ever seen the bottom??" "I see you know of it, then?" "Oh, my mother used to tell such tales of the great Metal Kingdom! I never truly believed them, mind, but it was all so [[facinating]], the idea of such a place..."

She regales you of the stories her mother had once told her while you make your way through the forest. She seemed so much more animated, more free when talking about her mother. But you can tell by the way she speaks of her, and the sad smile you sometimes see on her face, that she's so very sorely missed. Maybe passing on her stories made Lyran feel like she was keeping her alive, somehow? You didn't really mind. It was kind of nice, actually, seeing such love and admiration in action. [[Especially]] given recent events.

You're glad she experienced at least [[some]] happy memories before everything went to shit. Everyone deserved a happy childhood. To feel loved and nurtured by family and friends... God, you miss T.

They all stood amongst themselves, the atmosphere around them jittery and paranoid. And with good reason to be. One wrong step and they'd be chewed up and spat out by this place. And by the looks of their armour, tarnished with dings and smears of questionable origins, they'd already had some sort of run in with *something* in the past few days. These fuckers just didn't [[give up]], did they?

Time passes relatively quickly after that. The odd stop here and there for sleep and food, a random story or question thrown out from Lyran that you'd try your best to either answer appropriately or confirm the [[legitimacy]] of...

She'd gotten *really* excited when you told her that the mountains were real the last time you'd camped. Didn't even flinch when you told her they were also pretty damn high up and so fucking *freezing* you questioned why anyone would *want* to go up there *for FUN*. All the same, she'd lit up like you'd given her a [[gift]] over the fire or something.

It was at that point you'd thought it would've been the perfect time to ask her to come with you after you got over the wall. To tell her you were travelling back home to Skirone, past the thrice-damned mountains and the cursed Bog Pits... But then the moment had passed. Gone as quickly as it'd come, like hot cinders in the breeze. It's been a few hours since then, and [[daylight]] is fast approaching.

... Well. It was their [[princess->plantscene]] they were looking for. So, really, kudos for them. All doing their jobs and shit.

Didn't make getting past them any easier, though. How should you handle this? / [[Go right over their heads. No need for bloodshed.]] / [[Sneak attack. They won't even know what hit 'em.]]

You look over to Lyran, who seems just as frustrated as you are at seeing the gaurds this far out. When her eyes turn to you, you point upwards, to the root bridge above you both. It takes a moment, but then she nods her head in [[understanding]].

You walk to the edge of the bridge, dropping to shimmy along around to a more defensible position. One they wouldn't see you coming from. Lyran follows, gritting her teeth against the ache in her marked and abused hands. You idly wonder what it'd be like to be possessed. Would you, the host, know about it? Is it a willing deal type of thing? Or more of a 'free real estate' kind of thing where someone or thing just... takes over your body for you. [[...->sneak attack plant]]

You get moving as soon as you've both had at least some sleep, and you're starting to think that maybe this journey isn't actually short, given how much longer it's taking compared to the last time. You wonder if it's because you're taking extra precautions, like having at least one of you be on watch while the other sleeps. You didn't do that normally... But, given the fact you're being hunted by some kind of [[royal gaurd]], you can make an exception for the princess' piece of mind.

You're still making good time, though, all things considered. By your calculations you should reach the wall by sundown... Or at least that was the idea, until you both saw the soldiers [[blocking]] the route ahead.

Both on the same page, you head over to the edge of the bridge to drop down and gain a foot hold on one of the large trees. Once there, you carefully, and with as much respect as possible, start climbing. Lryan climbs next to you, hissing every once in a while when her hand wraps slip and rub against the marks on her fingers. You take a moment to think on what those marks mean, how you'd been told she could be possessed by something... Honestly, at this point, you're fairly certain that it's just religious scaremongering to control the masses. It was a gut feeling you'd had then, and it was a gut feeling you had now. And you trusted your gut. But what if she actually was [[possessed]]...

You don't like to think on it [[too hard]].

Just get her over the wall. Get her over the wall and then get her to Skirone. That's all you need to do. That's all you need to do to clear your's and T's debt. Simple as that. Simple. As. [[That]].

You both get to the bridge above without issue. ... Well that one vine [[had]] snapped at you, but you were pretty sure it was just a warning snap and not a 'I'M GOING TO END YOU' snap. So really, all's well. You're not dead yet, at least.

You heard the snapping again, however, and quickly turned back to face the tree you'd climbed. It's roots were still. Deathly so. [[As if...]]

As if [[frightened]].

What the fuck could *frighten* a tree [[that size]]???

You're tapped no the shoulder, and you jump so hard you feel your heart beat against your ribcage. Lyran's looking at you with confused concern, and you don't know how to tell her how [[fucked->plant opens]] you could both be right now...

But those are the last thoughts you have before you honest to god *feel the earth [[shatter]]*.

Your heart almost stops. You remember this feeling. You remember it so fucking well and it scares the absolute fucking shit out of you. You drop to your knees, quickly prompting Lyran to do the same before covering your ears. The first shriek was always the worst. When the ground first splits apart and that *thing* comes burrowing out, fucking *screaming* like a banshee. God, you hated this thing so fucking much. What the utter *FUCK* had those soldier fucks done to fucking [[wake it up]]??

Shit. Didn't matter. Not right now. You need to get the princess [[out of there]].

You brace yourself, uncovering your ears as you stand. God, it's so fucking windy now what the *fuck* even is this thing that it can cause sonic booms and air currents what the fu- Okay. Okay okay okay. Focus. *[[Focus]].*

You need to start moving. Where are you going first? / [[Check the princess.]] / [[Look for where that thing is.]]

You steady yourself against the wind on the swaying bridge before going to kneel down in front of an almost prone Lyran. She'd done as you'd instructed, you think. You hope. Or maybe the heavy air filled with wet sounds and tiny individual screams just had that effect on people, anyway. Regardless, you needed to get her up and moving before that thing runs out of prey down there and starts [[climbing]].

You stumble over to the edge of the platform and yep, there it is, in all it's mangled, twisted glory. It's a huge, foul thing. All teeth and barbs and how, just, HOW the FUCK did a fucking *plant* evolve to have those big, fuck-off teeth??? Seriously. One of those fuckers are pretty much the length of your [[forearm]].

Talking would do no good in this wind, you realise, so you shake her shoulder. No response. If anything, she screwed her eyes shut tighter. Curled further in on herself. Probably trying to block it all out, you think. But that was bad. Really fucking bad. The ground was getting really fucking unstable at this point and if you don't get her moving soon you're both dead. / [[Force her chin up, coax her out of it.]] / [[Slap her.]]

You do so as gently as possible, trying not to touch any of her marks, but with everything happening all at once you don't think you can really do this in a gentle way. You start with one hand on the chin, but her eyes were closed so tightly her entire face contorted with them. She was trying to curl in on herself again. So you used two hands, thumbs under her chin, forcing it up, all thought of [[gentleness]] gone in the wake of the singular mantra of 'shitshitshitcome on *COME ON*'.

She reels back from the hit as if you'd punched her instead, but at least her eyes were open now. That was one problem down. On to the [[next->slap a bitch]].

You shudder at the thought, choosing at that moment to pull yourself up and try to forget about that stuff. It's not helping you right now. All you need to do is get the princess to Lord What's-his-face. That is literally it. You've just got to get through a few of these dudes, [[first->plant opens]].

There's a [[beat->opening eyes]].

[[Two.]]

Thank fuck she opened them on three because you were about to [[slap a bitch]].

She's scared, eyes frantic as she locks them on yours. You try your best to stay calm and get through this. To get you both [[through this]].

You mouth encouragements as you stand, and her hands come up to grip your arm tightly. Probably for the best, really, if one of you [[goes over]]-

The bridge is fraying, splitting apart as those god damned [[tongues]] make their way up here shit shit SHIT-

You start running, grabbing lyran's hand and leaping from fibre to fibre as the root beneath you both shakes and [[crumbles]]. But then the princess is being torn from your hold mid-air and oh fuck oh fucking *shit*-

It wasn't by the plant you realise when you land. Thank fuck. You grunt as you stand up, turning to see Lyran under the bulk of an armoured soldier. At ground level. Where [[that thing]] is.

[["SHIT."]]

You're on your way down even before you've properly thought of a plan to get out. Again. But there was no time to plan, only to do, to act, otherwise... You needed to be down there [[right this second now]].

When you hit ground level, that thing is completely oblivious to you. It'd be much more interested in a double helping that doesn't seem to be able to fight back than a tiny morsel with a dagger in hand. But that doesn't mean it's [[defenseless]].

There's the chasm it came from, causing cracks in the earth and making the ground unstable. Not to mention the extra vines it has snaking around, all with minds of their own and looking for more food. / [[-JUMP-]] / [[-DUCK-->for now]]

You jump across the chasm before anything has a chance to properly ensnare you. And anything that tries gets cut down [[immediately]].

You can't kill this thing, you know you can't. There's no telling how deep down it actually goes, or if it even [[can]] be killed.

But that's not a thought [[for now]].

You don't stop until you can hear your own [[heavy breaths]] again.

You use a serpentine path to get to her, slicing at the vines that'd gotten too close for comfort. And by that you mean the ones that'd already gotten the soldier by the throat and was lifting, dragging him back towards the mouth. They drop like a sack of rocks to the floor and you kick them over on their back, getting them as far away from Lyran as possible. Probably opening up some airways, to boot, if that long gasp was anything to go by. You call it your [[good deed]] for the day, scoop Lyran up, and start running.

[[...->after the plant]]

It was way past sun down when Lyran finally [[came to]].

You'd made camp by then. And had gotten a fire going. You'd started to worry when you'd seen her injuries. Being tackled from that height by a fully grown dude in armour... It [[wasn't good]].

And she was awake now! Shifting on her stomach and trying to lift herself from the bedroll. You place a hand on her back to stop her before she hurts herself. "Easy there, Lyran. You took some [[heavy damage]] back there."

You suddenly really hope that she doesn't have a problem with you treating her wounds. You knew how some people could be [[really pissy]] about that sort of thing...

[[...->injured friend]]

But, thankfully, you'd managed to grind some of your special sweets into a paste, sort of like a poultice. It was something you could use to heal any outer damage, at least. The real damage was inside, though. And you could only hope that the moment she woke up you could get her to [[eat some]]...

And there were [[a lot]] of them.

You could see them all, it's grotesque mouth gaping wide and just chock-full of those arm length teeth. All in uneven rows that squirmed and twisted in anticipation as it's many vine-like tongues finished gathering up the remains of their prey. It was a scene you'll not soon be forgetting. You both need to get moving. [[NOW.->Check the princess.]]

T was an absolute nightmare with that shit. Insisting on wrapping their own bandages, splinting their own leg... Hell, they would even refuse a sweet if they had a migrane, the [[fuckin' idiot]].

God fucking damn it. You're so [[whooping their ass]] when you get them out of this shit.

Lyran was quiet, but she did as you said, settling back down with a groan you sympathized completely with. You felt a need to let her know what had actually happened back there. Words to fill the silence, yaknow? You ask her what she [[remembers]]. A good way to check for head damage.

"I... I remember, the air was shaking. Rattling my skull. Glass shards in my eyes. Darkness was better. Comforting. Nothing was happening, a vacuum, a place nothing existed, but that was wrong too and then-" She looks up so suddenly you breathe a sigh of relief her reflexes were fine. "[[You.]]"

"You were there to pull me out. To bring me back. But then... a wall? And I was falling..." "Yeah, you did have a [[pretty nasty fall]]. A soldier got a hold of you and took you down with them."

"Roderyk." "Hm?" "His name was Roderyk." She tells you this as if it changed everything. "I saw his face and then - and then those things wrapped around him and-" She's starting to look panicked again, and that's not good. So you attempt to calm her by telling her you did cut him free before running. And that he [[was]] breathing when you did.

She visibly relaxes, laying her head back down in her folded arms. As if the weight of this one life had been of particular importance. "Thank you," she says, and you can feel the weight behind the words as she says them. You suddenly [[really->soldier]] hope he got away.

You tell her not to mention it. You don't really know [[what else]] to say.

"Why are you helping me so much?" She asks instead, breaking a silence you hadn't realised was there until it was broken. And holy shit how can you answer this? / [["I mean, I couldn't just leave you to be eaten now, could I?"]] / [["Okay. I'll be real with you. I kind of need your help with something."->exactly]]

"That still does not explain why you were in the Kingdom to begin with. Idle cusiosity does not bring one into the depths of a [[quarantined]] Temple by chance."

Sharper than you'd hoped. Granted, her putting the pieces together did paint the picture of a healthy brain, so really... You were still fucked, though. If she [[refused]] at this point...

You really hoped she wouldn't. Kidnapping and abduction weren't [[exactly]] your strong points...

So you tell her. You spill every detail of you and your friend being in dept, how that Lord had asked you to get Lyran to come and meet him in order to clear it. By the end, you feel pretty empty. Like just speaking the words had drained you of everything. Of energy. Of hope. God, T better be okay. It'd been a long few weeks. And that bastard had better be feeding them properly. Otherwise he's going to be [[catching your fists]].

When you're done, you resign yourself to listening to the fire crackle while Lyran thinks. After a while you think to clean your boots and dagger. Considering you'd not hours before been running through God knows what fluid was on the ground near that plant thing, it seemed like a good idea. Maintaining equipment, and all that. It's when you've almost fully de-gunked your dagger that you think to speak again. The silence strangely unnerving this time around. "You don't have to help me." You say, and you sound as resigned as you feel. Honestly, if the princess chose not to, what could you really [[do]]?

"I could probably mount a rescue or something. Pull some strings on my way back, gather a party-" "[[I'll come.]]"

You pause, stop breathing almost. [["What?"]]

"I'm coming with you. I want to help." [[...->why help]]

You're too relieved to even voice the '[[BUT WHY]]' that your head was shouting at you.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->chapter7]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[Chapter 7 - Coming Home (Again)]] _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Lyran's wounds seemed to have healed overnight, which was... kind of scary, given the severity of them the night before. Seriously, you'd felt at least one bone break when you'd checked. But come the next day Lyran was up and walking as if she hadn't been crushed 24 hours prior. You'd both been pretty disturbed by it, but because of this, you'd been able to get moving again by the time midday hit. And then in no time at all the wall was [[crossed]] and left behind. So, small miracles, really.

You still can't believe she'd agreed to travel with you, though. Honestly, at first it'd set off some alarm bells. No one just *wants* to go out [[travelling]]...

Well, travelling with a *stranger*, at least. You stomp down the little voice in your head telling you '*but that's exactly what you did you hypocrite as soon as life at home got too much you fucking ran you cowar-*' Okayyyyy, that's [[enough of that]].

But yeah, that'd been your train of thought for the last few days. At least, it was. But then you'd reached the Bog Pits of Solasia. And her face was an [[absolute picture]].

No one could possibly come by that type of child-like wonder unless it was come by [[honestly]]...

Noooooope. No questions. Just get the princess back to Skirone just get her there don't think about it [[don't think]]-

[[Right?->Bog pits]]

You hear something make an uncharacteristic *[[crunching]]* sound under your boot.

You kick over some of the wet foliage you'd stepped on to find... [[What the fuck]]??

[[A hand]]??

Well, it was a robotic hand, but *still*. Why the fuck was there a *hand* out here?? Was it from an automaton?? And if so... Where's the [[rest]] of it?

Lyran shambled up next to you curiously. Shoulders practically raised to her ears as if to stave off a chill. It was a little colder today, you supposed. Poor fucker. Probably not used to the [[weather changes]] yet. And her cloak had probably seen better days... "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"

Something like guilt twisted in your gut at the sincerity of her tone. "Uh, nah. I'm fine. It's just-" "What is that?" She asks, towering over your shoulder. You can't think of any other response than "Probably [[trouble]]."

You tell her to stay put for a second and start scouting ahead, where some unusual tracks seem to lead. It looks like there was some sort of struggle here, and after you clock on to that you turn back to tell Lyran that some cover would be appreciated. "That would be... with my bow, correct?" "Exactly so," You agree, not even bothering to question the strange phrasing. Some idioms, you'd found, just didn't [[translate]] all that well.

You turn back to follow the tracks as she draws an arrow, body charged and [[ready for anything]]-

[["OH SHIT-"]]

[[...->ROBO pit]]

Honestly, you need to stop making a habit out of this. You tripped over the lip of a damned crater and [[fell ass over tit]] onto a-

You gasp when your brain catches up enough to realise what you'd fallen onto. A god damned [[automaton]].

It's body was a twisted, mangled mess of snapped wire and broken tubes and it had a *[[face]]*.

It had a fucking honest to god human shaped face with flesh and everything. Granted it was torn and peeling from the edges of it's jaw where the skin ended BUT STILL. This was not normal. This was *not* protocol for normal automaton construction what the fuck what the *fuck*- You scramble away from the thing you'd landed on, wet tubes and plates scrape and slide as you back the fuck up away from it. Then you realise. It has [[no eyes]].

There's a film of skin over where the eye sockets should be and you can't help but think of that mural you'd seen back in that temple. How it'd creeped you the fuck out. You then notice the noise. Like a fan starting up. It's [[breathing]].

"Are you okay, Traveller?" You near jump out of your oun skin as you look up at the princess, extending a hand towards you. You take it eagarly. "I see you found where that other piece came from." "You don't say." You bite back, trying not to sound as shaken as you feel. But then the damn thing lifts it's head. It's slow. Jittery. And looks like it's... in pain almost. And if it were a person, you'd be inclined to believe that they were, given most of their innards are now [[out-ards]].

"We have to help them." Your head swings around so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. "What? Are you *[[insane]]*???"

"Can we help them? They seem to be in pain." You look at her incredulously. You don't have *time* for this! But then that look softens slightly when you see the pleading look she's giving you. It was so [[familiar]] it was difficult to look at.

It was similar to the one T had given you many a time before, when things were simpler. When responsibilities were as basic as 'dress appropriately and leave that mutt outside.' You grit your teeth, turn to the broken thing in the hole. It looked pitiful down there, all bent out of shape and scattered. It's face all screwed up in a grimace. You have the vague thought of 'maybe that's why it had one in the first place. For humans to empathise with.' It didn't help that it'd [[worked]] on her companion here.

You sigh. You're so going to regret this. [["We can help."]]

[[...->robo]]

You both worked to patch and tie together what you could with what little you had. You used cloth and wire to bind most of it together again so that you could finally get it out of the hole and see what the real damage was. It wasn't as bad as you thought, but it was [[still bad]].

With your dagger and Lyran's persistence, you'd managed to patch it up into some kind of functioning order. Enough for it to stand and [[hold it's own weight]], at least. Lyran had found a soiled plate at some point that said 'PI-X420' and you'd bet a decent amount that that was this thing's serial number. Lyran had started calling it Pix after that. You didn't say anything.

Now that is was standing, and had a *name*, you decided you liked it even less. It's shape was vaguely familiar, even if it was the most human-looking robot you'd ever seen. Human-acting as well, as you watched it shuffle from 'foot' to stump. Hey, you'd tried. Not everything had been [[salvageable]].

But yeah, the way it moved, how it fidgeted and breathed, it was all entirely too well done. As if someone had poured decades upon decades of their life into duplicating the human form in metal and silicone... It was too uncanny, and your brain didn't like it. Nope. Not one bit. Lyran, [[on the other hand]]...

She'd asked it questions constantly. Asking if it was okay, where the pain was. She was talking to it as if it were a *person*. But, it couldn't be. Right?? / [[I mean, maybe?]] / [[No way...->I mean, maybe?]]

God it was just so weird. You'd grown up around these things. You knew what they were and weren't capable of. And how they responded to Lyran's questions, to it's new *name*, with shakes and nods and happy gestures... [[That was new]].

And then, as if knowing the exact inner struggle you were having, she asked if it was afraid before. And it nodded. It was the final nail in the coffin for you, you're sure of it. The way Lyran had glanced from the machine, to the floor, and then to you, had been your undoing. And you hated it. Hated your weakness for not just putting your foot down in the first place. For not even properly [[arguing against]] the idea.

But... You'd like to think you knew good intentions when you saw them. And with how weak and distressed this thing had seemed... God, why did it have to be so goddamned [[endearing]]??

Anyway, you fixed them up the best you could, used your dagger to fuse some of the more important panels back together, and by the end they were walking again, if a little lopsided with the missing foot. It hadn't spoken, thank fuck. You're not sure you could handle a voice as well as a face. But it expressed it's gratitude through an attempted hug to both of you and a smile with stitched lips. You'd tried to duck away... unsucessfully. That thing was *fast*. Now what? / [[Carry on, I guess?]]

And so you do, wiping your oily hands off on your cloak as you (at Lyran's insistence) actually *say* goodbye. [[It follows you]].

"Wait, what? Nooooo. No, no, noooooooooooope." It's face contorts into that of a kicked puppy. It's the same face Lyran has, too. "But-" "Noooooooooope." "Please?" It's like their combined powers just do critical damage on your willpower or something. [["..."->FINE]]

You swear internally. And then *externally*. "GOD FUCKING DAMNIT *FINE*. BUT," You turn to the bot, finger pointing so accusingly it withers under the scrutiny. "If I see one goddamned red dot on my body at *any time* I will [[end you]]. Got it?" It nods so excitedly that it's head tubes rattle with the action. God, this was such bullshit. Getting ganged up on like that that's just not fucking *fair*-

The rest of the journey was blissfully uneventful. Well, bar those two fae with the suspicious cart you'd helped in the mountains. You'd been absolutely certain they were smuggling something weird and illegal. And the moment they'd taken a shine to Lyran, you made a point of getting the fuck out of *that* [[shady situation]].

When you saw the city gates come into view, you could've wept for joy. This was probably the longest you'd ever travelled with companions, and honestly, you understood the appeal at first. A story each night was fun, even if it did delve into the origins of an eyeless deity in Lyran's culture. Seriously, a woman betrayed by her betrothed and blinded before death is *not* an appropriate bedtime story. For anyone. But yeah, the novelty had finally worn off, and you were just... [[tired]].

The quicker you got in, the [[better]].

[[...->mansion]]

It was quiet when you got to the mansion. Too fucking quiet. It was midday, where the fuck were all the people?? They usually flocked to this part of the Heights at this time... Everything just felt off, from the readily opening door to the silent automatons that lead you all through the hallways. Something was just [[wrong]].

Lyran felt it too. You could tell from the tense, bunched up shoulders. The way her eyes constantly shift and her hands grip the string of her bow. Even the damned robot seemed on edge, it's core whirring unsteadily with every missmatched step. It even seemed to be edging closer to either you or Lyran at any given time. None of this felt good and you had no idea *why*. This should be the end of the line, a job well done. But the air felt heavy with unspoken fear. It hadn't felt like this [[before]].

You're all escorted into the throne room, and that bad feeling intensifies. The Lord is sat waiting on his pedastal, head laid leisurely in one hand. He's just as pompous as you remember. And if not, then more so, what with the way his head tilts back when you enter, his lip curled in vague disgust. He greets you as he did before, but this time he stands to do it. And his head... it, it just, moves weirdly. Disjointed almost. He congradulates you on [[doing as told]], and you try not to snarl or snap at him for the words he used. It's what you did, after all.

You demand to see T. "All in due time, my dear." Woah, did his voice... change? No, you're just imagining things. You're stressed, angry, tired... You just want to see your friend unharmed. But then he's walking. And something is so very wrong with the way he does it. Just a second off beat with the rest of his movements. And he's coming [[towards you]].

"Would you like to know why *I* sent you to get this lovely creature here?" He waves a delicate hand towards Lyran, running his fingers along her braid, dragging it out of her cloak in one smooth motion to lay over her shoulder and almost at her feet. She freezes as he does it, and your blood fucking boils. How fucking dare he. "I don't want to hear your stupid fucking monologue. I want to see T alive and [[in front of me]]."

"Oh, of course you do, my dear. That's what all of this was about, after all. Correct? The young hero crossing acres of land to find a princess. All to trade for their little friend's life. How... quaint." His voice had definitely changed. Or at least how he talked. You were sure of it now. Much more... vague. Less succinct. Before he'd been just polite enough to be classed as good company in the society of Skirone before sweeping you out the door and out of his business. But now he talked in circles. Was purposely involving you in the conversation. Was fucking [[prancing around]] in his dark robes as if a man posses-

As if a man possessed. That one thought zings through you in a wave of irrational fear. You're getting jittery, jumping at shadows. You need to calm down. Get through this. Find out where he's keeping T. "*[[Why, then]]*?" Despite the calming breath you took, you still snap the words out venomously. Anxiety and fear mix together, putting you on the offensive.

"Why, for [[marriage]] of course!" He practically sing-songs and okay *what the fuck is happening???*

"This lout, in all of his infinite wisdom, decided he wasn't *powerful enough*, so what does he do? He calls *ME*," His voice has turned from a lilting tone to a more annoyed one. "ME. Minding my own business in the beyond, casually plotting my return. You know, like all murdered people do..." Okay you're very sure you don't like what is happening here and that *that* is not the Lord anymore. "But then, hohoho, *then* I learn what year it is here." The thing places twitching hands on your shoulders, the weight of it barely anything, but it feels like a ton of bricks to your nerves. "You know what year it is here?? Exactly 337 years since," they suddenly get quieter, leaning in further "my *little* [[accident]]."

"And that's a loooong time, really. Well, not as long as all the others, but it sure as hell was for me. And then this man, this *'scientist'* calls on me for *help*?? HA." "So I send him on this wild goose chase. A pear from the wilds, a wooden stake from the east, a hand crafted shipment of metal work before the next triple moon alignment... But I think he was catching on, you know? So I thought, hey, may as well try. And so I sent him to find the daughter of the man who had me killed." "And guess what he did? He sent [[you->Reveal]] instead."

"And you delivered! I couldn't believe it! This *teeny tiny little mortal* went alllllll that way to go find this princess, just because their *fwend* was in *twouble*." They say it mockingly. And my God you want to hit them. / [[Fucking knock them out the fucking prick how fucking dare-]] / [[What's the point? It's not the Lord anymore, how do you even know if it'd hurt them or not?->Fucking knock them out the fucking prick how fucking dare-]]

You swing anyway... They catch it. "It's so precious you think you have any control here." / [["Fuck you, prick!"]]

And they laugh. They laugh and laugh until their voice splits and warbles into a shrill mess on par with that carnivore plant thing. And then they throw you clear across the room. "Traveller!" "YOU DIDN'T EVEN TELL HER YOUR NAME! OH, THAT'S TRUE FRIENDSHIP RIGHT THERE!" / [["SHUT THE FUCK UP-"]] / [["WHERE THE FUCK IS T YOU FUCKING-"->"SHUT THE FUCK UP-"]]

But they're just laughing. Laughing and cackling like- Lyran is next to you now, helping you up, talking to you but you can't hear her through your absolute fucking rage where the fuck is T who the FUCK ARE YOU- "Me???" They quickly compose themselves, as if they'd never even lost it to begin with. "I can't believe you haven't heard of me before, dear. And frankly, I'm insulted." They sound it, as well. As if you'd genuinely insulted them. / [[Good.]]

"I..." Black smoke spills from the Lord's every orifice like thick tar. From his lips, his nose, his *ears*- And then his eyes burst, and a torrent of just black comes [[gushing]] out of his skull.

"What the fuck," You hear Lyran whisper under her breath, and at any other time you'd feel pride at her use of language, but right now you're just fucking *shell shocked*. The stream slows as it pools on the floor, the Lord's body collapsing behind it like a puppet with cut strings. What the fuck, indeed, like, *[[what the fuck->shadow woman]]*-

The darkness ripples, cascades into the air in a rush of whisps and then- There's a woman. There's a woman made of shadows walking towards you, her hair floating like the veil of a drowned bride behind her. And she had a face. "Call me [[Mother]], dear."

"You're *not* my mother," you hear Lyran shakily say. Her hand like a vice on your arm. You look over, peeling your eyes away from the apparition in front of you. She looks livid. And fucking terrified. "You're [[NOT]] my mother."

"Oh, I know dear. Not yet, at least." The voice is much more fitting now they've shucked the corpse costume. "First, I need to marry your father..." She grabs at Lyran's chin, lifting it harshly before she has a chance to dart out of the way. "And for that I need your face." ... [[WHAT.]]

"Then I'll kill him to eternalise the union. With *your* hands." "WHAT." You hiss. What the fuckwhattheFUCK- They look towards you, smirking sickly. "I'm glad my plan worked out this way. You're so *responsive*." Oh god, you think you're going to be [[sick]].

But then the robot just comes out of nowhere and fucking *[[body slams]]* the fuck out of the spirit woman.

... Maybe you're starting to [[warm up to them]].

They wrestle and zap at the dark whisps now clinging to it, and the woman's voice shrieks. Holy shit. / [["WHOO! GO PIX! FUCKING DESTROY THAT MOTHERFUCKER!"]] / [["I SWEAR TO FUCK IF I HAVE TO PIECE YOU TOGETHER AGAIN YOU'RE FUCKING GROUNDED, YOU HEAR ME???" ->"WHOO! GO PIX! FUCKING DESTROY THAT MOTHERFUCKER!"]]

But then there's a frustrated "ERGHHH!" and you see them get thrown over your head just as you'd been. "We have to go!" It's Lyran telling you this, pulling you up to your feet, making sure you follow her as she runs out of the throne room. You made sure to [[scoop up Pix]] on your way through the door.

You stick close to Lyran as she leads you through that maze of hallways once again. Pix wrapped tightly in what's left of your cloak to keep them together. Poor fucker was glitching like hell, arms jolting out every so often, knocking you off balance. But like fuck were you just gonna drop and leave them there *now*. Brave bastard had thrown themselves at a goddamned shadow woman for you... God, you're so glad Lyran has the spatial awareness to remember all of these different turns because if it'd just been you right now, you would've been so *[[fucked->halls after spirit]]*.

And speaking of fucked, how *fucked* was that fucking woman??? And just this entire situation??? Holy shit what spiritual fuck had you somehow wandered into what the fuck- "This way!" Lyran yells, and you don't think twice before following. Until you see where she's taking you. "Uhh Lyran?!?" "Trust me!" And then you're both vaulting [[through a window]].

A window that was on the second floor. "OH [[SHIT-]]"

And then you're breaking through *another window* and into... Someone's bedroom??? "Who [[the shit]] are you!?!"

It was a very guilty looking teen, dressed all in black and with an arm full of silverware. ... / [["Er."]] / *[["Well, who the shit are you?]]*

You all just stand there like children caught with their hands in the buscuit tin. You, with your suspicious ball of scrap you could've very well just stolen from next door, and him with his little pouch of rattling cutlery. Lyran is just standing there, as if she was some sort of [[mediator]], ready to break up anything too serious.

"[[I asked you first!]]"

*[["I asked you second!"]]*

There's a moment where you both size eachother up. The boy practically [[murdering you->mediator]] with his eyes.

But then there's foot steps behind the door and it's getting rammed down and- "SKIRONE GUARD, GET DOWN ON THE GROUND GET DOWN-" "Oh, fuck-" "I DIDN'T DO SHIT" "[[HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE-]]"

Well. [[Could've been worse.->Jail]]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->chapter8]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[Chapter 8 - Prison Again]] _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Yup. In prison. [[Again.->Thief]]

You'd all been lumped in with the kid, thought to be thieves stealing valuables from the Dulante family. And boyyy didn't that just add [[insult to injury]]?

They hadn't tried too hard to identify you yet, thank fuck, but sooner or later they were going to. And then you were really fucked. Well. More fucked, anyway. God. What the fuck had happened back there??? Spirits??? Marriage??? God they were probably going to pin the death of that Lord on you too. No matter he was consorting with demons and spirits for *however long* before you'd even met him. All these people saw was [[theives]].

Fucking hell. Was T even still alive? You drop your head down further into your hands, your back pressing hard against the stone wall of the Chasm. God fucking damn it. [[Did you ever even have a chance]]??

They even took Pix from you. 'Confiscated goods' they'd called them, along with all of your gear. Your hood, your goggles, the scarf T had given you... / [[I'm not fucking crying. I am NOT going to cry-]] / [[What even is the FUCKING POINT-]]

Tears flow down your cheeks anyway. No matter how stubborn you are about not acknowledging them. God this was so fucked up. All you wanted to do was visit a friend and all this shit happened what the fuck- Lyran comes to sit next to you in her cell next to yours, and grips your hand through the grid in silent understanding. 'She's not crying,' you tell yourself, 'so why the fuck are you, you fucking idiot just stop it stop-' You grip back and [[cry harder]].

You swing your hand to punch and pound at the wall behind you, but it doesn't help. You stand up to kick at it instead. Nothing. Nothing gives and you're just so fucking angry at it and everything and nothing and yourself and- "[[Traveller, you'll hurt yourself.]]"

"Oh my godddddd! Trust me to get thrown in with a bunch of lovey-dovey cry-babies." Both your heads whip up so fast the kid shrivels back a bit. Or maybe it was your combined glares. [[That could've done it.]]

"First time?" He ventures a guess. Probably trying to build up his bravado again. "Hardly." You bite out, voice thick. You're trying so hard not to chew the kid out for being just that. A kid. "I grew up here. Probably spent more days down here in the Chasm than you have alive, kid." "I'M SIXTEEN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!" And didn't that just [[say it all]], really?

You ignore him, cleaning yourself up some. This was getting you nowhere. You need evidence. You have to know. You can't just carry on and [[not know]].

You hear her say it from her cell next to yours, her own head down between her folded knees. The words are resigned. Pained. She doesn't even look at you. Not even when you shout back a childish [["SO?"]]

"Believe it or not, I care about your well being." "WHY?" You scream back, needing something to direct yourself at. Something to focus on. You realise [[you're crying]] when you taste salt.

"Jeez dude, calm down. She's just tryin' to help." You snap your eyes to the boy sitting across from you in the other cell. He recoils slightly, and you only just have the piece of mind to think what a mess you're making of yourself if you're [[scaring a kid->That could've done it.]].

You breathe in. Out. "What's your name, kid?" They look at you as if you've offended them. "Why [[the shit->kid in cell]] would I tell you that?"

"Hell no! It's my stash for the week!" Shit, how often did this kid get caught? Must've been plain old bad luck you'd bumped into them on your way from- Don't even think about it. Don't think. Just do. "What about if I could give you a [[key to a family vault]] up in The Heights?"

"Fuck off! I ain't that daft." "Your loss." You go and sit back near Lyran, hoping the kid [[would bite]].

You take her hand in yours, trying to express some sort of comfort through contact. The marks on her hand flare slightly, and she squeezes back. Hard. But you can't find it in you to be mad about it. "Wait." You turn your head back to the kid, who's making a face like he's physically hurting somehow. "[[What house?]]"

Oh god, can you even [[say it]]?

"I'll do you one better," you reply instead. "How about I *show* you which one it is? When we *all* get out of here." They're on the fence. You can see it in the way they make a show of scratching their chin. "How do I know you and Inky-locks here ain't just gonna ditch me after I get you out?" [["You don't."]]

That get's him. The unknown gamble always gets them. To his credit, he takes some more time to think on it a little, and then he's thrusting his hand through the bars to shake on it. "Deal." You stand, heading over to shake his hand. A single pick is in his palm. [["Deal."]]

While you're working to unlock Lyran's cell, she pushes a hand through the bars and into your line of sight. You look up, trying to keep the tumblers you'd already figured out as still as possible. She's looking at you expectantly, and with a determination you wished you felt. "Uh..." / [[Shake like normal.]] / [[Slot the back of your hand to her palm, like she did all that time ago.]]

She nods once. A very deliberate action. "[[We're finding your friend.]]"

She smiles as you do so. A small, fond smile. But then she corrects the hold herself. Giving a decisive shake. "[[We're finding your friend.]]"

You don't really know what to say. Honestly you'd expected her to hightail it out of there as soon as she could. No one needed this shit. And running was a perfectly plausible option. Hell, you practically advocated it. Probably the best one, too, now that you thought about it. What was keeping that entity from just storming the prison and [[taking]] what, or who, it wanted?

Surely you were [[missing something]] here.

But then you're clicking the last of the tumblers into place as if on auto pilot, rising to your feet when Lyran steps out. / [[Thank them.]] / [[Hug them.]]

It's brief, but very much needed right then. You'd never even realised how much. God, this must be what it's like to grow up properly [[around loved ones]], huh?

You do so quietly, but sincerely, and [[she hugs you->Hug them.]] instead.

"Oh, for shit's sake, *come onnn*." You break apart easily to acknowledge the kid as he closes his own unlocked cell door. "This is no time for dopey reuions. We still need to get past those guys upstairs. They ain't just gonna let us walk out of here, ya know." Okay. Yep. Kid's right. "You got a plan?" You ask, fresh out of ideas since they'd somehow managed to do an entire re-modelling of this place in the last decade. "Well, yeah. *Duh*. Only works with one though. Unless you can make some rappelling gear outta that stuff of yours?" "Need to [[find it]] first. Then I'll see what I can do."

[[...->prison cells]]

"God, for someone named 'TRAVELLER' you don't half get lost, do you?" You pause, turning to give the brat the side eye. "I'm gonna take that as a rhetorical question." "Take it however you want, you're real shit at this." / [["Now see here, you little shit-"]] / [["Says the kid who got caught stealing SILVERWARE of all things-"->"Now see here, you little shit-"]]

"Child. Traveller. I think Pix is this way." "WHO YOU CALLIN' CHILD???" Aaaand she's gone around the corner, not even acknowledging the kid's irritation. You're absolutely sure she heard him, as well, with ears like that. So she was actually choosing to ignore him. You could [[almost laugh]] again.

... You pick up speed, anyway. Just to be safe. What do you mean you're getting seperation anxiety all of a sudden [[shut up idiot]] shut up shut up shut-

"Soooooo, what's with the whole," the kid gestures to their face, "thing about?" ... "What?" "Your companion? Inkylocks? That's not normal is it?" You're not sure what, specifically, the kid is asking. But given the crack at your sense of direction, you decide to mess with them. / [["The tattoos?? Oh yeah, she's part of the mob. Pretty good cleaner, actually."->"Oh my god, kid. You can't just ask why someone's blue."]] / [["Oh my god, kid. You can't just ask why someone's blue."]]

Oh good god their face is *priceless* right now! It's only when you see them turn away looking dead inside that you say, "Honestly kid, you should probably just ask her any questions you have. Maybe not right now though, eh? She's got a lot of shit on her plate at the moment." And just as you turn the corner, you see her crouched over a prone body, unhooking some keys from a belt loop. She holds them up [[triumphantly]] before going to unlock the huge metal door Pix was behind. Your chest swells with pride when you see the other two bodies. *And* they're still breathing. And you hadn't heard a damned *thing*.

But then you hear Pix's core rev, and you're quick to cross the threshold of the room when you see *them* suddenly stop breathing, the sound of their fans stilling after that burst of energy. You get your hands on them to check their vital signs as quickly as possible. Core is intact, torso is still together, no major breaks or missing parts... They've just gone into power saving mode. You breathe a sigh of relief, head dropping to their breastplate as you tell Lyran they're going to be fine. They just need some sunlight and a good sleep. She shares the sentiment and almost deflates with the sigh she gives out. But now comes the issue of [[carrying]] Pix out of there.

[[...->Escaping prison again]]

"You sure you're alright over there, old dude?" You bristle at the comment, shifting Pix's weight on your back one more time before gripping onto the [[cloth]] you'd folded over the zipline.

You take a breath, and wait for Lyran to be ready to go next. ... You look down to see her legs shaking. / [["You okay there, Lyran?"]] / [["Having trouble, princess?"]]

"We need to find Pix as well, Traveller." Lyran says resolutely, brooking no room for argument. "We can't forget them." Not that you planned on arguing, anyway. [["We're not leaving without them."]]

A zipline that *went across the chasm* you just had to remind yourself. "Shut up, kid! You've got just you to worry about." Lyran was having trouble gripping her cloth, so you'd had to tie it somewhat to her wrists, around some leather strips to stop it cutting in. And then there was Pix's dead-weight strapped to your back in a makeshift harness... Shiiit, if any of you dropped here that'd be it. Game over. Ain't no way anyone is [[coming up]] from down there.

"Hey! I need you to show me where this goddamned vault of yours is. And that means I need you to get across. So quit your bitchin' and get over here!" Shit, if this kid didn't shut up, the last of the gaurds on night duty were gonna catch on to your little [[escape plan]]. And that was just one more thing to add to the shit-ton of problems you had with this plan... God, you wish it was a wall. You could deal with walls.

You laugh, despite yourself. "Smart. You wouldn't by any chance have any picks on you?" 'Or possibly know if they've changed the locks in the last ten years?' you leave out, given they were only sixteen. "Pfft. Course I have." They reach into the knot of their hair, brandishing at least three picks. / [["Can I nick one?"]] / [["Hand one over, will ya?"->"Can I nick one?"]]

"Y-yeah. Yes, I'm fine." She grips the cloth tighter in her hands, not even flinching from the possible pain of her flaring marks. "I. Am fine. Never thought I'd see the Chasm in all it's splendor quite like this, is all." To her credit, her voice is steady as she says it, even as she stares down at the [[abyss]] beneath them.

That does it. She looks at you over her shoulder as if you'd just insulted her honour. Her eyes hardening into daggers she wants to stab you with for using that title. She makes a "hmph" sound, and then [[backs up a step]].

She'd been pretty quiet this whole time, and you were getting worried. This whole thing was pretty fucked for you, sure, but it hadn't been 'I'll become your mother by marrying and killing your father in your body' fucked. A shiver runs through you at just the thought of it. You can't even [[imagine]] what Lyran is feeling right now.

But damn, you'd kill for ears that good. Maybe you could actually navigate a bit better then... Although, you're just glad you'd both found your normal gear back there in some flimsy wooden boxes. Meant Lyran had her bow on her and a decent chance to put down anyone she got the drop on. Otherwise, you'd be a bit [[anxious]] right now.

She gets across easily enough, then. Running and jumping as if she'd done it a hundred times before. Spite was always the best motivator when [[fear]] was involved.

Next, it's your go. 'Falling wouldn't be the [[worst way to die]], right?'

She lifts her chin, then, and takes a step back. "If it makes you feel any better..." / [["I'm shitting bricks, too."]] / [["This line has probably held a lot heavier than you before."]]

She scoffs a laugh and says a confused "*What???*" with such a baffled face you have to stop yourself from full on laughing along with her. "It's a funnier way of saying I'm scared, too." You clarify, glad to have gotten an overall positive reaction. And possibly distracted her enough from imminent death from *[[splattering->come to]]* to finally take the leap.

"That means nothing, Traveller. If anything a well used line is more likely to break." "I mean, yeah. But you're not going to be the one to break it any time soon. If anything that'll probably be me, since I've got Johnny-dead-weight here." You take their stump leg and kick it up with a smirk to prove your point. She looks unimpressed. "Oh, come on. With all the shit we've dealt with, we can do this. *You* can do this. Plus," You take a quick glance behind you, pretty sure you see some of the lights on one of the staircases start moving. "I don't really think we've got the time. Those soldiers are sure to [[come to]] soon, and we kinda need to get gone before they do."

She takes a deep breath- "OH COME ONNNNN. I CAN DO THIS IN MY *SLEEP*." -and opens her eyes to glare at the kid. Nice to see your [[influence->backs up a step]] is taking hold.

You snap your brain back from that intrusive thought. But not before you can imagine yourself falling into that darkness down there. It actually seems kind of peaceful. But no. It's not that time yet. Probably for a while. You've got [[shit to do]].

[[...->chasm is done]]

In the end you all get across without a problem. And then it's on to the surface. The climb was... easier than expected, which you were grateful for, you're not denying that. But it was long enough for you to think. Specifically, to think on how the fuck you were gonna get back into that mansion's prisons without getting caught and fucking *[[liquified]]*.

So you [[ask the kid]].

"Look mate, do I look like the kinda bloke who goes regularly breaking into prisons?" You look them up and down, the scruffy renegade look doing them absolutely no favours for that argument. "Yes." You answer, very matter of fact. This is business now. The kid had to know someone who could [[help you]].

But the fact that it was smooth sailing didn't mean that the journey wasn't long and *grating*. The bot could only go so far without a system flush, given the faulty plumbing, and on the way you'd learned that, while having a bow, Lyran couldn't shoot for shit if the target was moving. It'd made hunting in pairs sort of an awkward ordeal. Also, you were the only one that could really light a fire, or cook. Basically you were the responsible adult here, and it sucked. But you were [[almost there]], now.

The kid just scoffs, carrying on down the cliff to the old graveyard your 'family' kept their vault in. "Come on, kid. If this vault is untouched, I'm giving you thirty times the worth of that one lock pick, at *least*. Just give us a name and a place." "What do you mean 'if this vault is untouched'?" He demands, voice pitching up and cracking in the middle. Ah. Probably should've [[mentioned]] that.

You tell him, leading with the whole 'travelling for ten years' thing. He takes it well. And by 'well' you mean with a lot of anger, swearing, and flailing arms. Could've been worse. Could've been the [[violent type]].

And as much as you'd butt heads with the kid, you really didn't want to have to put him on his ass. In the end, you don't need to. Lyran does. By roasting his existence to [[dust]].

She tells him, none too gently, what had happened in that cold mansion hall. Tells him of your entire journey and then some. About nearly getting eaten by a plant and almost seeing a lifetime friend *die in front of her to said plant*. About her father, as stubborn and promiscuous as he was, and how she didn't want to actually *kill him he was her father for Spirits sake* and that she didn't want *an evil spirit woman wearing her mother's face to possess her body to do it.* You go to place your hands on Lyran's shoulders, to try and calm her down, to show support or *something*, but she shrugs you off immedietely in one harsh movement. "NOW, child. Will you HELP US, or NOT?" "I-I, uh-" Probably a lot for a kid to process [[all at once]], to be honest.

But you [[let it happen]] anyway.

She needed this, and if it got the kid on your side... well, that was a [[bonus]].

Honestly, you were probably due a bit of a [[break down]] yourself.

"I might know someone." Fucking *score*. "But you never heard it from me, [[ya hear]]?"

[[...->The Fae]]

Turns out the vault had been left exactly as you'd remembered it. More vines than before, but that was to be expected really. The key was exactly where you remembered it being, as well. So you handed it to the kid and told them to be careful with it, and to put it back where they found it once they were finished. You only felt a tiny bit guilty when you first saw the kid go in. But it's not like your family had actual hierlooms in there. Just some extra supplies of metal, coal, and some clips of spare cash. You tell them to be careful just before you [[head off]].

He'd given you two names, a phrase, and an address. At least it was somewhere you were [[familiar with]].

[[...->inn 2.0]]

Granted there was a bunch of dudes outside all crowding around one of their friends that was throwing up, and possibly bleeding... But still. It wasn't like that was a strange occurance here. "Is that not rude to do here?" Lyran asks, pinching her nose. The corners of her eyes crinkle and you suddenly feel a pang of sympathy. This is probably the first time she's ever seen somewhere like this. "Depends on if they [[clean up after]]." Is your honest answer.

You turn up at The Inky Quill just after midnight. The lantern outside it lit like a hazy beacon you follow down the foggy street. It's exactly as you [[remember it]].

Lyran thinks on this for a second, pulling her hood back up. "Such strange customs..." she mutters, holding the fabric close to her face. "You get used to it," you say, trying to sound empathetic but not sure if it really comes across. You give her a smile as well, just to be on the safe side, but it may have been a little bit [[forced]].

And who do you see [[sat at the bar]]?

None of this was [[ideal]], after all.

You readjust the lump of nonreactive scrap metal on your back, suddenly wishing you'd taken Lyran up on her offer to switch a good hour ago. And then you're heading inside, pushing that door open and striding in like someone [[on a mission]].

Those two fae from the *[[fucking mountains]]*.

You both exhale in unison; "Oh, God." "Oh, Spirits." / [[Turn around. No one needs that noise. You can probably figure some thing out just please no-]] / [[Oh, good God, just get it over with.]]

You turn around, grabbing Lyran on the way quick before they see you- "Hey! Look who it is~" Ohhhh, [[fuck->fae]].

You greet them just as [[enthusiastically]] as they do you.

One of them - the... man? You're not too sure, they look very feminine but something's telling you they could be either? Both? You've no idea what the fae are actually like biologically or socially soooo yeah - they've recognised you and called you over. God, would it be rude to refuse? It would wouldn't it, goddamnit you remember your aunt telling you about being rude to fae and to specifically. [[Not.]] Do it.

So, you plaster on a smile, not too wide, and take the invitation as if you were a young teen at the [[dinner table]] again.

You turn to notice Lyran looking around curiously, taking in the bar, the boothes, the rowdy patrons... You then see her very pointedly turn her head to look at one specific table. One completely surrounded by standing bodies all cheering and goadingly singing a familliar tune... Accompanied by the very distinctive '*thunk*' '*thunk*' '*thunk*' '*thunk*' '*thunk*' of a blade hitting the table repeatedly. You have to push down the wave of despair that threatens you when you realise [[what it is]].

"I am so sorry," Lyran's saying to the fae that'd invited you over, and you're suddenly incredibly grateful for her diplomatic talents, "but I'm afraid my companion and I never learned your names?" ... You're suddenly less glad. "Um. Lyran, you shouldn't just ask-" "Nonono it's perfectly fiiine! If our little berry blossom would like to know our names I'd gladly supply mine. [[Ifff~]]"

[[...->drinking]]

You brace yourself. "If?" "If... she can beat me in a [[drinking contest]]!"

It very much *[[could have been worse]]*.

Worst case scenario, Lyran loses and has her very first drunken experience on human-made alcohol. Best case... you learn the name of a fae. You're curious, you can't deny it. But it is [[Lyran's decision]]-

"You are *absolutely* on." Aaaaand she's [[already]] sat down holy shit??? She seems pretty eagar and that honestly throws you for a loop-

"*That's* my girl! Sindra! Another round of your best!" Holy shit Lyran was gonna get [[destroyed]] and you're oddly excited to see it happen. Did that make you a bad friend? It probably did didn't it-

Friend. Lyran was a friend now. *Your* friend. Holy shit they were, weren't they? Did they think the same? You hoped so. You hoped that after all this shit was said and done you could introduce her to T. They'd probably not mesh too well at first, but [[after a while]], maybe even a drinking contest like this-

You have to stop yourself there. Too many feelings over the '2 feelings at once' limit coinciding. You resign yourself to watch the elf and the fae have a drinking match instead. God T would [[love]] to see this.

[[...->drinks end]]

It's a close one, you think. They've almost drunk Sindra out of house and home at this point, and there's a huge crowd gathered over from the five-finger-fillet table to see the end of it. At least, you'd thought it'd been a close one. The fae started off chatty, but had gotten progressively less talkative and pretty much only slurred when they did talk. Lyran, on the other hand, hasn't said a word the entire match, downing drink after drink without so much as flinching. And this was some strong shit, you'd had a sniff out of curiosity and literally felt between your eyes burn. So what the fuck were elf guts made of?? Lead??? Was lead even alcohol retardent?? You couldn't remember- point was, some fuckin [[strong shit]].

The fae sits up again to eye Lyran across the table, "I jusht knew you'd be a fun one, I knewww it~" "Do you yeild?" She just says back, not an ounce of drunkeness in her voice what the fuck- The fae just laughs, giggles really, before heavily nodding their head with a content smile. "I do, I do, my little blossooom. A [[deal's a deal]], after all~"

They sit up properly again, back straight, before making their way across the table to whisper, "I, am Sieki." And as if that hadn't been a weird experience for both you and Lyran, they then move to stand with the most grace you've ever seen a drunk person have, and bow, hand outstretched. "At your service." And just before you can start questioning what the fuck just happened, you're putting two and two together. That was [[one of the names]] the kid had given you.

Well, then. Good work Lyran. Finding the kid's contacts and shit. Now to say that phrase. ... What was it again? / [["Ice burns as hot as fire?"]] / [["Wait, I had this. Ice, something, something, geese?"->"Ice burns as hot as fire?"]]

Sieki just looks at you for a good second, eyes suddenly squinting suspiciously, and you have a moment of thinking you [[done fucked up]].

But then they laugh, so much so they're keeling over the table like a fainting Dame. You look to Lyran for guidance, but she's as lost for words as you. "Ohhh, that young boy Gen sent you, didn't he? That little impish *devil~* He's always sending customers our way with these litle codes of his. Keeps us on our [[toes]]."

You can't deny that, so you don't. You tell them what you need. "HOOO that's a *big* job. You'd need at least six of our little *~gifts~* to get into the dungeons of a fortress like *that*." They whip their ponytail back over thier shoulder in a naturally flirtatious manner. "I'm happy to help, of course. My associate, on the other hand-" A knife comes flying across the busy room to embed itself in the wood of the table, right in front of your folded arms. You try to pretend you didn't almost shit yourself. "They might need some [[convincing]]."

"Gen?" Was that the kids name? Must've been. Good to know, really. A little petty part of you rejoices in learning it, especially when the kid had been so adamant in you *not* knowing it. "And that must mean you're [[in need of our services]], yes?? He wouldn't have sent you to us *otherwise~*" Sieki drawls, casually leaning over the table, head in hand.

You look up, and another fae, a woman, presumably named 'Diz', is glaring at you from across the way. One dark and one milky eye staring you down like prey. You can immedietely see the business dynamic these two had. The bubbly ray of sunshine, and the silent, broody wall of muscle. The latter of which, if you were a gambling person, you'd bet was [[challenging you]] to a game...

Literally *sore* losers, since you knew this game well enough to know you could very well lose a finger if you're not careful... You break the staring match you'd somehow entered to look at the knife in front of you. It was a nice one, sturdy make, well cared for... / [[Take it and play.]] / [[Take out your own knife, the one you always played this game with.]]

Holy shit, you just realised why all those people were outside. They were probably the sore losers of whatever [[game]] these two were playing.

You take the hilt of the knife in hand and yank it out on your way over. It feels nice, too. Comfortable in your grip. You twirl it, testing weight distribution. It's practically flawless. / [["Alright. Let's go."]]

They don't seem insulted, or even bothered by the fact you sit before them now with old faithful in your hand. In fact, they just seem excited, in their own, intense way, at just being challenged again. Seems they hadn't lost [[once]] yet.

Maybe you could give her [[a run for her money->beat T]].

They grin at your eagarness, probably mistaking it for misplaced bravado, and lay their hand spread out on the table, blade in hand. More fool them, you think. You'd spent so long in this tavern on this particular game you could probably play from [[feel alone]].

Was that too cocky? Probably. But you had spent the majority of your youth perfecting your skill in order to [[beat T]]-

You decisively place your non-dominant hand in front of you, fingers spread, knife raised in your other hand, blade down. You use it to tap at the wood next to the outside of your thumb a few times, just to practice the rhythm. One, two, three, [[four]]-

Aaaand you're both off. / [[One - Thumb]]

/ [[Thumb]]

/ [[Two]]

/ [[Middle->Lose]] / [[Index]]

/ [[Three]]

/ [[Middle]] / [[Ring->Lose]]

/ [[Two - Index]]

/ [[Three - Middle]]

/ [[Four - Ring]]

/ [[Five - Pinky]]

/ [[One]]

You hiss as you nick your skin, your aim slightly off. There's a new cut where the blade hit, small, but noticeable from the bead of blood oozing from it. "Shit." "Again?" The woman asks. Her voice isn't smug like you thought it would be. More amused that anything else. / [["Again."->four]] / [["Can't I just pay you?"]]

/ [[Four]] / [[Five->Lose]]

/ [[Pinky->Lose]] / [[Ring]]

/ [[Five]] / [[Pinky->Lose]]

"You can, actually. But you have to admit that you lost, first." / [["I'm fine with that. I just need your help."]] / [["Pfft, never."]]

/ [[Four->Lose]] / [[Five->Lose]] / [[Pinky]]

You carry on. Going around and around, again and again, faster and faster until- One of you [[slips up]].

So you settle on a price, to everyone's disappointment, and you're putting the knives away just as Lyran and Sieki come [[walking]] over.

"Suit yourself. Again, then?" / [[Hell no. You've only got a finite amount of blood.]] / [[... God damnit yes.->four]]

You go to tell them as much. To tell them to stuff it. But then you remember [[who]] you're talking to.

You go [[again->four]].

Huh, you hadn't noticed you'd just left Lyran on her own at the mercy of the eccentric fae. And she's making sure you know it now, if the daggers in her eyes are [[anything to go by]].

She crosses her arms, a mother's 'and what do you think you were doing' look on her face. Huh. You can't remember the last time you had one of those directed at you. / [[Wave her off.]] / [[Apologise.]]

The fae stops, dead still, and then lifts her hand up. She's looking at it as if it were a stranger's, and that's when you see a small drop of blood seep out from a fresh cut on her thumb. ... [[You've won.]]

Well. Maybe not. You don't think you could ever be that joyful while carrying the possible death of your friend on your shoulders... But you [[try anyway->dinner table]].

"Fancy seeing you two lovelies again, eh? What a small world it is after all~" Oh god, that champagne and bubbles disposition, you'd forgotten how potent it was. Then again, the last time you'd heard them speak was just after being dug out of a mini avalanche, so, it may have been dampened a little back then. "Yeah, [[small world...]]"

You kept up with a *[[fae->won knife]]* in a game of five finger fillet.

Said fae stands, offers a hand to you, and you try not to show how fucking bewildered you are that you [[actually won]] holy shit-

You stand and take their hand, grip firm as you both give one decisive shake. The only sign of approval you'll probably ever get from a woman like this, and you take it proudly. The bar has broken out into some bouts of cheering, but all you can hear is the blood in your ears and Lyran's voice distantly congratulating you. Okay. Fun's over. Back to business. Time to talk [[explosives.->Back to business.]]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->chapter9]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The look she's giving you stays the same, but you can see her giving ground. "I'm a grown up, Lyran. I knew what I was doing." "Tell that to the blood on your hand." She gives you a cloth to clean yourself up with. "Okay, okay, I'll be more careful the next time a fae challenges me to a [[knife game->Apologise.]]."

She seems to accept this, eyes softening slightly. How on earth did you manage to acquire a [[mom-friend]]? You, of all people?

Anyway, with that whole shin-dig over and done with, it's back to the matter at hand. You need to do some [[business->Back to business.]].

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[Chapter 9 - Reunion Redux]] _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It takes you [[a week to prepare]].

You stay at the inn, fixing Pix up in yours and Lyran's shared room as best you can. The fae had even offered their assistance in this regard. Sieki offering goods at a discounted price, and Diz helping with welding and the like. Turns out, they're [[not too bad a pair]] once you get used to Sieki's huge presence and Diz' resting bitch-face.

Lyran had been quiet the first night, but you chalk that up to the fact she threw her guts up the moment you were alone in the room. And you were actually kind of glad she did. Not to undermine her suffering, but... it was like the laws of the universe had finally started making sense again. No living thing should be able to keep that amount of poison down without consequences. You congratulated her on making it that long and for getting to the bathroom on time. She pointed her pinky at you in a very 'I'm flipping you off in my language' way, and you [[laugh so hard]] you have to sit down.

God, you're becoming [[delirious]] from all this shit.

Oh, you'd also learned that Lyran's tattoos were of fae design originally, which was fuckin weird, but still interesting as fuck when you thought about it. How the fuck had a kingdom in the middle of nowhere managed to get it's hands on an ancient fae ritual and change it into... what exactly? An anti-possession shield? Sieki tried to explain that it was more complicated than just a 'shield'. More a 'door' of sorts. It'd gone straight over your head when they started using a load of [[terminology]] you didn't quite understand. But Lyran had sat there in silence, soaking that shit up like a sponge.

At least, you assume that's what the silence meant. She could've been spacing out as much as you were at that point. It'd been a long day of [[metalwork]] for both of you, after all.

Anyway, you'd kept Pix in a forced shut-down for the majority of your time there, only manually reactivating them when you were absolutely sure you'd done all you could. When they boot up again, Lyran make's sure she's there, and so do the fae couple, surprisingly enough. Pix's core [[whirs to life]], an encouraging sound.

Then they're expelling steam in a whoosh, and sitting up. If they could blink, you feel like they'd just be blinking at you right now. Sat there like they were, staring at you without eyes. It should be more unnerving, you think. But you had been staring at that face for a good week now. Plus, you did carry their lifeless corpse around town for a good while before that, soooo... "Well? You okay there, dude?" You ask, the silence becoming [[too much]] for your awkward brain to handle.

They look down at their new hand, giving it an experimental squeeze, before looking around again. You're actually kind of sad you hadn't been able to install a voice box of some sort. Would've made communicating sooo much easier... But then they're smiling, the artificial flesh (and it *was* artificial, you'd checked) stretching and creasing into one so naturally. Even their eyebrows move properly now, climbing up into a look of absolute [[astonishment]].

Their arms are around you before you know it, the movement too quick to track, let alone fend off. / [[Hug back.]] / [[Let it happen.]]

"Glad to have you back, dude." You say, squeezing just a little bit harder. It's not as if you could break them with a hug. ... Or at least, you hope. Your work isn't [[that shoddy]], right?

Your hands are just hanging awkwardly in the air, so you use one of them pat Pix on the back, hoping to convey your relief at their continued existence in that way. You think they get it, because then they're hugging just that [[little bit tighter->that shoddy]] than before.

"Okay," You concede, pulling away. They go from hugging you to noticing Lyran and hugging her just as eagarly. She greets them warmly, arms wrapping around their frame easily and without hesitation. It's a bizarre image, really. The first robot the princess had ever met and she adopts it as her own, almost. It actually [[warms your heart]] a little.

"Okay, okay, okay," you say, because you need to break this nice, warm atmosphere before you fall too deeply into it. "We need to get going soon. And as much as an asset and *badass* you are, I think you should stay here while we go and find T." They turn to you then, a hurt and confused crease in their brow as if to say a sad [['what??']]

"Don't give me that look. We all just spent the last week fixing you after what that phsycho did to you last time. You think I'm letting that happen again?" They look even more distressed than before, more steam hissing from their vents as they start to get up, as if to prove they're fine, that they can go. 'Don't leave me here while you go out there without any evidence to prove you'll come back.' ... Woah, look who's [[projecting]] their guilt, huh? *Fun.*

"Traveller, if they want to come, I don't think we can stop them from doing so." ... You sigh, heavy and just so done with [[everything]].

"You're probably right." The bot perks up, then. Hopeful non-eyes turning to you, it's whole face lighting up with a smile. God, how can this robot be so goddamned expressive without fucking eyes? "It was [[worth a shot]], though."

[[...->the metal wall]]

You meet the kid, Gen, outside the wall you need to blow up. Apparently, he'd offered his services when he'd last seen Lyran on a metal run in the marketplace. Something about not liking the thought of 'owing someone anything'. You took all the help you could get. "About time you lot showed up." He barks out, shaking in the night air and rubbing his hands together to get some warmth into them. "Was about to call this whole thing off. I got some boys manning the tunnels. All they need now is the [[fireworks]]."

He looks so small and pitiful you lob what's left of your cloak at him. It's oil stained and torn from where that halberd almost hit you all that time ago, but it should be better than the rags he's got on now. It's not like you'll be needing it anymore after this. "OI, I don't need no charity, mate!" He looks indignant, insulted all over again. What was it with teens and pride nowadays? / [["Shut up and hold it for me, then."]] / [["Just take it, you idiot. I'm not gonna need it in there, am I?"->"Shut up and hold it for me, then."]]

He huffs, but wraps it around himself anyway, doing up the well-worn clasp with a 'click'. You turn to the two fae and their cart, Pix sitting between them and Lyran riding comfortably on the horse as they pull up. "You got everything?" "Yes," Lyran quickly confirms, succinct as always. She climbs off the creature once it stops. "Good. We've probably only got one shot at this. Let's make it a [[good one]], yeah?"

You go to get the explosives out the back. And they're.... They're fucking [[dildos]]???

You're so shocked you don't even know what to say. "How do you think we get our wares through checkpoints, hm?" Diz rasps, hefting one of the open boxes onto a shoulder. "No guard wants to get too deep into the papers on illicit wares like these." She walks off, and you're left there in silence for a good few seconds before your brain catches up. And then you're practically wheezing while holding back a bark of surprised laughter. "Oh my God, I'm using dildos to [[blow up a wall]]."

[[...->getting in]]

You're surprised you're the only one that finds the dildo thing [[funny]].

Seriously. It was so unexpected to you. But apparently to the others it was just par for the course. And you thought *[[you'd]]* seen some shit.

Anyway, you were getting ready to detonate, spending an extra minute or two just making sure all the kids Gen had rounded up were *out* of the tunnels. And then it's the count down. Three, two, [[one-]]

You have the piece of mind to quickly cover your ears before the wall explodes in a flash of heated gold that you feel drum against your chest. It's over as soon as it starts, the smoke cloud rising even as you're moving to get a better look at how it [[affected]] the wall.

It worked, is all you can say. There's a person-sized hole torn into the metal and you're quick to jump through it and into- Some sort of [[torture chamber]]?

There are skeletons tied to racks and hanging in cages above burnt out fire pits. As well as a table exactly like the one you'd seen Lyran tied to in the temple. There's so many pages and books and ink wells scattered about you trip over a pile while you're trying to make sense of it all. Then you spot the [[circle]].

It's carved into the centre of the floor with so many fucking symbols on it, and god fucking damn it you don't even want to know. You don't. All the classic horror stories always begin and end with some shit like this and it just fucking pisses you off to see people mistreat ancient practises time and time again like this it's just- You turn away, looking for the door. You find a spiralling stairway instead. "Okay. We all through?" You look back to see Lyran right behind you, and Pix right behind them. Gen is looking through the gap with a look of [[pure disgust]].

"You say this guy's dead?" He asks, and Lyran nods. "Good." He spits, figuratively and literally, into the room, and it's a sentiment you find you can both finally agree on. Then the fae are there next to him. "You be careful, you hear?" Sieki says, a note of seriousness in their tone. "I don't want to be hearing any talk of funny business. You get in, you find your friend, and you get out." You nod, despite knowing it probably won't be that easy. It [[never usually is]].

Diz hands you another of their 'gifts' in a cloth bag, on the house. "Just in case." You really hope it doesn't come to that, but you thank them all anyway. [[Just in case.]]

[[...->in the mansion]]

Pix leads the way through the halls, fingers crackling with energy a similar colour to Lyran's glowing marks. It's a sharp contrast to the cold rustic feel of literally everything you can see around you now. Where it'd all once been well lit and lined with tapestries of gold, the place now shrunk with the shadows. It stinks of damp and filth and you could almost swear that the walls were closing in on you in the dark. You watch everyone's back and your own, keeping your place at the back of the formation to keep Lyran at a safe distance from anything that could come flooding out of that darkness. She needed that distance, [[more than anyone]].

This is how you traverse the mansion, slowly but surely making your way to where the prison cells are. And when you get there, you're so relieved and fucking terrified to see [[a body]] in the bed of T's cell.

You could weep for how tightly wound you are right now as you grip the bars. You're too fucking scared to call out to them. What if they don't respond? Oh god that could be their corpse oh *god* what if it is their corpse- You [[call out]].

You can only see their back, since they're curled up into the fetal position, but you're absolutely certain that's [[T's back]].

Your voice croaks, your eyes stinging and stomach swirling but you *[[have to know-]]*

There's [[movement]].

There's movement and a groan and your heart fucking *[[soars]]*-

[[...->T moving]]

It's the [[wrong->Tmoving]] movement.

It's the *[[wrong. Movement.]]*

[[It's.]]

[[It's...]]

[[You can't.]]

You [[can't breathe]].

You can't breathe and yet you're breathing too much you're breathing too much too much not *enough* *[[too much-]]*

You have to stop but you can't you can't you *can't* you need to [[fucking stop-]]

[[STOP.]]

You're being dragged. Dragged from the bars and Lyran has your head in her hands and they sting my God they *[[sting-]]*

You're looking at them but you're not you're not *seeing* everything is blurry and *loud* everything is fucking *[[loud and it won't STOP.]]*

Then she fucking slaps you, and it's like reality *snaps*. It snaps to one lense, just for a moment, but a moment was long enough for her to get your feet moving, to put those breaths [[to use-]]

You're [[running]].

You don't remember running. You don't remember when or how you started, but you have both Pix and Lyran dragging you forward. Away. Away from- "W-wait," you're trying to stop. To think. To breathe anything but the cloying tar in your throat and lungs. "No, Traveller, we can't, we- we [[have to-]]"

You've stopped. "*Shit.*" Lyran hisses. There's [[a door]] infront of you.

You've gained enough awareness to see it. To notice that it was [[bad very bad-]]

You turn around when you hear scratching, accompanied by a sick sounding laugh. The kind of laugh you'd hear from someone with the flu. Or the plague. Throaty in a very, very bad way. Bad in a '[[my throat is collapsing]]' way.

You think you're ready to actually see, but you're not. You're so, very [[not->T corpse]].

It's their face. It's definitely their face. But it doesn't *fit them* it hangs and bulges in places that there really shouldn't be bulges. And then there's the lack of nose and *[[eyes-]]*

God, they have *no e y e s* they're just holes, holes you can *see though* oh dear fucking God you [[can't-]]

You can't bear to look at them and yet you can't fucking [[look away]].

The bones of their still meaty fingers scrape along the wall in a sick, heavy caress. The limb not lifting properly and leaving a streak of viscera where it touches. "Isn't this what you wanted *'Traveller'*??" The voice that is theirs but *isn't* taunts, and you feel so sick your stomach churns. "To see your friend, right now, in front of you???" Their jaw hangs at an odd angle when they show themselves into the light of your circle. "[[WELL HERE THEY ARE~]]"

It's a sick smile on a sickly split face, tearing at the seams as they throw themselves at you. You've just got the amount of brain power to hold your arms out, to try and shove them back, but they're so fucking heavy and you're buckling as they snap their teeth at you with an almost unhinged jaw where's your dagger where the fuck did you- Then there's a [[pulse]], blinding and *loud* and the thing scurries back as if burned.

Then Lyran is there, grabbing your arm again and pulling so insistently- They've [[got the door open]], apparently.

You can hear the thing scrabbling and snarling in the shadows and you have to remind yourself that it *is* a thing. That it's just wearing T's face. A charlatan [[wearing a carcass like a mask]].

You have to get that thing out of them. You need to get their body back to bury it or burn it or *something*. You can't just let this fucking freak have them and keep them as a costume for fucking sunday best. It's the least you could do for them now. And your friend [[deserves so much more]] than that.

"OH, MY GOOOOOD," you hear shriek from above and all around you, bouncing off the walls as every sconce lights itself consecutively, one after the other, going around in a circe until the whole hall is lit in hazy green spiritfire. You're in the [[throne room]].

"HAVEN'T YOU FIGURED IT OUT YET???" You turn, and there they are, exactly where the Lord had once been. They're sat in the throne, head in hand at a crooked angle, and giving you a conspiratorial smirk. "Your fwend - this 'T' - They don't fucking exist on this plain anymore. They're dead. Gone. Vamoosed. This body of flesh and bone? *It means fucking nothing to them.* And it means *less than nothing* to me." They lean back, looking at you down the bridge of a nose [[long since gone]].

"So you can have it for all I care. I just want *one thing* in return-" They look pointedly past you, and you don't even need to turn to know what they want. / [["Over -my- dead body, Fucker."->"Get fucked, Bitch."]] / [["Get fucked, Bitch."]] / [["..."->villain convo]]

They sigh, tiredly, and it's as if the sound came from somewhere else, from all around you instead of that decaying, rancid mouth. And then the body oozes, black first seaping from the eyes, and then every pore. Pouring down the throne, down the sides, the front, the steps. The drips trail forwards once on the floor, and then the woman is back, each step soaking up more and more of the liquid black until her full form is standing before you. "It's such a shame when they try to [[play the hero]]."

... [[Seriously?]]

And then she's coming at you, . / [[Knife -SLASH-]] / [[-DUCK-->villian fight]]

You bring your knife up in a wide ark just as she tries to strike, the whisps of her part as the knife goes through them, the smallest evidence of burning showing on her face when she coalesces behind you. It's a body of shadows and dark, nothing solid or corporeal, but now when you look at it there's a glowing streak of fire slashed [[right down the middle of it]].

You dodge out of the way just in time before they got - what you presume to be - very real and physically existing shadow claws into you. That would've hurt like [[FUCK->right down the middle of it]].

She screams in frustration, rearing up into the air and phasing forwards through you, again and again, too fast for you to react, and it feels like your insides are moving without the rest of your body following. Then Lyran is there, bow in hand, and yelling as she lets out a pulse of energy and [[what the fuck-->lyran power]]

You didn't know she could do that??? It sends the spirit woman reeling, skittering out of existence for a moment before coming back together just in time for Lyran to shoot at her. But the arrows just fly through, coming out on the other side [[trailing smoke]]. Lyran screams in frustration and throws the bow down, letting out another of those light surges as she does.

It looks like it hurts for her to do it. You try to slash at the spirit when it gets too close to the shield thing Lyran's got going on, but it's gotten wise to your actions, and just circles, eyes never leaving Lyran's. It's like a battle of wills, and you feel like a third wheel all of a sudden. Like you're the 'damsel' being saved. You need to do something. / [[Look around.->boss]]

[[Pix]] is behind you, working on the door, trying to cut it open from this side. You're glad they at least listened to you and didn't just throw themselves at the thing this time. [[The room]] is fucked, to put it nicely. Dead robots have just been piled up into the corners, and the support beams look like they presumably saw the fire fight that led to the bots demise. The ceiling is ready to come down on you. [[Lyran]] is still staring the thing down, shifting this way and that on the balls of her feet as the spirit paces. She snarls at them when they go for another surge forward, her pulse keeping them away while you and Pix work on an exit plan.

You turn to see how they're doing on the door. Not too good. It'll take a good hour [[to get through this thing-]]

Maybe you can [[use that?->The gift.]]

You have no idea how to help her. Her teeth are bared and her arms are shaking and you just don't know how to help [[can you even help there's nothing you can-]]

[[The gift.]]

You feel for the pouch secured to your pack, taking out the explosive there with an idea forming in your head. You tap Pix on the shoulder insistently, showing them. They nod, take the thing from your hand and gesture for you and Lyran to [[get gone]].

You give them a thumbs up, and go to try and edge Lyran away from the door [[without the spirit noticing]].

/ [[Run between them, hoping Lyran will follow.]] / [[Run -and jump- between them. That'll get their attention, right?->Run between them, hoping Lyran will follow.]]

You take off across the room, yelling and waving your arms, the whole shebang. It got the spirit's attention, at least. [["OI YOU, YEAH YOU, YOU DICK SWAB NUT KERNEL YOU-"]]

"WHY DON'T YOU PICK ON SOMEONE YOU'RE OWN SIZE HUH??? TRYING TO POSSESS YOUNG PRINCESS' BODIES, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, THOSE FUCKERS AT THE TEMPLE??? I BET YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO POSSESS ERK-" They have you by the throat, lifting and lifting until you're choking on your own spit and the edges of your vision start letting the shadows in. She brings your face close to hers, the whisps of her hair surrounding you in a curtain. "You have no idea how much of a mistake you've made," She bites out at you, the words hot with anger but still oddly amused. "You didn't even need to come here to know the fate of your precious T. You could've just fucking [[asked them.]] And I *can't do that since I'm now stuck in this god forsaken building forever*"

You allow yourself to be handled once you know it's Pix. Trying to keep your eyes open. Trying to keep aware of the building collapsing or the fire burning or the smoke, there's a lot of smoke- [[Where's Lyran?]]

You're [[thinking]] about this?

It's a *corpse* what kind of person would you have to be to ACTUALLY CONSIDER trading your LIVING FRIEND for your [[DEAD ONE'S BODY???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????]]

AND YOU'RE [[STILL GOING??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????]]

Your struggling literally does nothing, and having your brain hyperfocused on staying alive, you don't quite properly catch that last bit until she's already monologing on about herself. About her lover. Her wedding that never happened because she wasn't good enough for him. The woman she murdered for stealing her dream. "I only want what was taken from me. Is that too much to fucking ask of you people? My love was *forced* to kill me as a show of loyalty to the people and yet I'M THE BAD GUY??? [[HOW DOES THA-]]"

And then there's the explosion. Thank fuck. You're not sure you could handle another second of [[that drivel]]. or the choking to death. There was that too.

They're [[metal ones]].

And thank *[[fuck for that]]*.

You're pretty much flying through the air from the force of the bang, though. The hand at your throat gone for now but the lack of oxygen leaves you hazy and unfocused as you watch the fire and the smoke dance in the air when you fly by. But then there are arms grabbing you mid-air and you're trying to thrash and fight [[and-]]

You reapeat the words so many times but your throat hurts and your words are so small, where is she??? [[She should be here where is she-]]

[[...->Out of mansion]]

The spirit circles around to you as if sensing your distress, keeping out of range of the bubble. She laughs. "You're absolutely right. There is nothing you can do. You're absolutely powerless, you can't change anything, and doesn't that just [[eat you up inside.]]"

"Because there is nothing you can do. And when there's nothing you can do, you run. You run where there's more space, where there's more things to see and distract you from the fact you can't do [[shit->villainldhfg]]."

"And then your 'friends' get dragged into it, don't they? The friends who don't even know your true name-" There's [[a blast]].

It's a blast of fire and light and heat and it threatens to sear your skin but it doesn't. It hurts your eyes, though, so you cover them, kind of missing your cloak right about now. But then you peek out to see Lyran, marks unnervingly dull as she looks at you from kneeling on the ground, eyes wide and frantic. She looks [[scared->Lyran boss]].

She runs to you, feet slipping in her haste and she's tripping and falling- You catch her by the shoulders and haul her back up, the flames around you climbing higher and higher up the walls, consuming the heaps of deactivated automatons. "We have to get out of-" you [[start->jlsdgs]].

But you're [[interrupted]].

"[[Kill me,]]" she says. Her voice shaking and the entirety of her following suit and-

[["What." ]]

"Kill. Me." She repeats, just as terrified. "I, I think she got in, and, and I can't. I can't see that I can't let it happen he's my *father* I just - [[I can't-]]" She's panicking and babbling and you're right there with her, your brain not quite comprehending what it is she's telling you to do.

"Are you sure, I mean, are you sure she got in she might just be tricking us, she could be because then if you're dead she can use you like she did T and-" "It doesn't work like that!" She's crying and yelling at you now. "I'm a *locked* vessal, Traveller. That's what Sieki told me. We MERGE if she gets in. And I *don't want her in my head*. But if I die, she dies with me." She grabs you by the shoulders, the tears streaking her cheeks reflecting the angry fire around you. [["Do you understand me?"]]

You're silent for what is probably only a second or two, but it feels like a lifetime until she's repeating again, [[more firmly-]]

[[...->Lyran decision]]

*[["Do You Understand Me."]]*

[[What are you going to do?]]

/ [[Okay.]] / [[I can't.]]

You whisper the word, looking into her eyes for any sign of hesitance or betrayal. You see none. Only determination and pure fucking agony. Her face twists and she let's out one forced smile before pulling you to her in a bone crushing hug. A sob threatens to leave your throat as you hold her back. You swallow it back down, trying [[in vain]] to control your breathing come on get yourself to-fucking-gether you absolute piece of fucking shi-

The words are [[barely audible]] from your lips.

Both of you are scared and panicking and hyperventilating until you're not. And then you're loosening your grip with one hand, dropping it to grab your dagger. Then you're both breathig heavy again but this time you can't stop. If you stop you won't be able to do this. And you need to do this she's telling you to do this and oh dear God this is so fucked so majorly fucked and you don't know if you can do this you can't do this [[there has to be another way there has to be-]]

She holds you tighter as if sensing where you thoughts are going, why your hand is suddenly shaking so much. She takes your hand, holding the dagger with you, and presses the blade of it [[to her throat]].

Both of you have your eyes screwed shut and your foreheads pressed together, [[bracing]].

[["Do it."]]

[[...->kill]]

[[...->end pix find]]

[[You do.]]

*[["What?"->lyran end]]*

"I can't." You repeat, louder. "I can't fucking *kill you* Lyran I just can't there has to be another way-" "There *is* no other fucking way, Traveller." Is her answer, heated and angry. [[Betrayed.]]

"PLEASE. I can't spend my life not knowing if it's me or *something else* making my decisions for me. I can't- I can't not know if I'm [[ME-]]"

You tell her no again, and she shoves at you. Hard. You stumble back, only just stopping yourself from falling under a clump of falling debris. "No??" She asks, voice gone up an octave. "She asks you this *one thing*, and you can't even do [[THAT->villain convo lyran]]?"

That's not Lyran. It's a disjointed thought. She looks the same, no dodgy body parts or movements or anything it's just Lyran but it's [[NOT-]]

You're filled with such hot seething rage you stop right where you stand, dropping into a power stance and *[[charging-]]*

But what are you going to do? / [[Run.]] / [[Take them the fuck out.]]

You run past them, towards the door, but you're tackled before you get there, their body weight pinning you and their thumbs clawing and pressing at your [[throat]].

You run at them with such speed you tackle them to the ground. There's clawing and biting and somehow you're overpowered, [[pinned down->throat]] under choking hands and eyes taht are so familiar and yet are not.

You slide your dagger between their ribs. They roll off of you screaming like a banshee and you can see your dagger searing it's way into her flesh. You watch as an internal battle wages itself infront of you, a person battling with themselves to *take the blade out no keep it [[in]]*

So, you let it happen. You're not a pretty corpse. They choke the life from you, your sightless eyes watching them do it, and then they walk out, leaving you to [[feed the flames]].

Then those hands are sliding up, over your face towards your eyes and you know exactly what is going to happen- / [[Save yourself, stab them.]] / [[Let it happen.->end]]

Not the [[ending]] you'd had in mind, eh?

In the end, she's just laying there, twitching, eventually letting out such a genuine smile it *[[breaks your fucking heart please God no-]]*

You sit there when the silence hits. Unmoving. Unblinking. You can't look away from [[that face-]]

Pix eventually [[finds you.]]

They save you from the wreckage. Only crying tears of their own when you're both safe and [[out of there->mansion escape]].

They shake with sobs as you sit, legs over the side of the building, watching as the mansion [[burns to ash and cinders]].

As fitting a funeral pyre as there could ever possibly be, you think. Planning to be gone by sunrise. You don't care where you go. As long as you're [[gone.]]

Both Pix and Lyran are next to you, which, thank fuck, but you can't help but think that something is wrong. Or that something [[should]] be wrong.

You go to sit up- "Don't." Pix tells [[you-]]

[[...->pix reveal]]

[[...->EndingEpilogue2]]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->chapter10]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_- [[Epilogue]] _-_-_-_-_

You've been travelling for years. Decades even. You broke off contact with Sieki, Diz, and Gen as soon as you stepped foot out of the gate. Pix follows you, wordless as always, even if you tell them not to. It's just easier not saying anything now when you know you won't get an [[answer back.]]

And it had been a long time of not getting answers back. Of drifting from Inn to Tavern. You'd even hopped seas at one point. You had no idea where you were. And you needed that feeling [[constantly]].

It had been decades of this, and only this, until word of a [[murdered elven king]] reached you.

[[...->Epilogue3]]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->Eppilogue 3]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_- [[Epilogue->E3]] _-_-_-_-_

They saunter into the grand hall as if [[invited.]]

You wake to cool night air and a sky filled with [[smoke]].

[[FINE.]]

Fine. You hesitate, and the entire room [[feels]] the silence that follows.

[[...->youknow what no]]

And then you were heading back the way you came. Hopping that ship and whatever wall stood between you and that kingdom. You turn to Pix. [["No more running."]]

[[-*To be continued*-]]

[[...->end pix find]]

But they're [[not.]]

A dagger in their hand glints as they brandish it, holding it out as if it were nothing more than a bloodstained flower in offering to the man, the only one left in the castle, sitting before them. "Hello, love," they say, [[saccharine sweet.]] Their hand gripping the wet handle tighter, a single drip audibly hitting the floor...

[[...->end 3]]

[["Did you miss me?"]]

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[*-Consenting to End-*]] _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Double-click this passage to edit it.

[[PIX]] *tells you*.

With their *[[mouth]]*.

[[And it's-]]

[[It's-]]

[["T?"->end bit]]

They grin at you, so wide and bright you forget the people all around you and the burning building and to [[even breathe-]]

You- you can't, you can't just- it has to be a ruse it *[[has to be it can't be them-]]*

"The one and only, dickhole. Who'd ya think's been saving your ass all this time? Some random bot?? *[[Please->T robo]]*."

You look at them. *[[Really]]* look at them.

The sly grin, the popped brow- It was very much [[a T look.]]

"..." / [["FUCKING WHAT"]] / [[PUNCH THEM.->"FUCKING WHAT"]]

You throw an awkward left hook, and your hand makes a crunching sound when it hits their face. "OW YOU SHIT MONGERING FUCK WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU FUCKING [[TELL US BEFORE WE WENT INTO THAT SHIT HEAPING FORTRESS OF FUCKED UP VENTRILOQUY SHIT YOU FUCKING BITCH ASS COCK CHOPPER???]]"

"BECAUSE I DIDN'T FUCKING KNOW YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. I COULDN'T JUST BE LIKE 'HEY! DON'T GO IN THERE! I'M RIGHT HERE' BECAUSE I COULDN'T. FUCKING. *[[TALK]]*"

"YOUR MOTHER NEVER FUCKING TEACH YOU TO WRITE OH MY FUCKING GOD T YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOU ABSOLUTE-*hic*-[[FUCKING-"]]

And you're crying, and they're hugging you and you're hitting them with all you've got, which isn't much [[to be honest-]]

And then you're hugging it out and fucking crying all over the place and shaking like a leaf and laughing and crying again. You're a mess. You're just a complete and utter mess but you don't *fucking care* because it's *T* THEY'RE NOT GONE [[YOU CAN SAY EVERYTHING]] YOU CAN SHOUT AND SCREAM AND-

You just apologise. Over and over and over again, and you're holding them and babbling you should've just said no you should'nt have come back you should've just broken them out [[to begin with you should've- ]]

They just hold you tighter, metal joints pinching your skin but you don't fucking care it's them and they're [[real-]]

"Alllright, snots-a-lot. You'll rust up my shoulder at this rate," they joke, loosening their hold, but don't let go, and you just stay there for a few seconds more before backing up. You look to Lyran then. She's here, alive, looking at you with those wide, concerned eyes and you're so goddamned grateful she got out of there. You lift a hand to make sure, not trusting your eyes after everything that's happened. Her marks seem duller than before as you trace your fingers over her cheek, but you suppose that's [[a small price to pay]] for saving your life and that of those around you...

Once satisfied that yes, they exist, they're here and alive and breathing- [[You laugh.]]

It's small, but it builds into utter hysterics. They both soon join you, thier own little chuckles and snickers adding to your state of euphoria and you have to lay down to survive the coughing fit that happens from it. You sit there in silence that follows your little fit, all three of you, and watch the mansion burn down to the ground. A blaze of fire on the horizon bright enough to rival even the blood-red crimson of the rising first sun. "You absolute fucking idiot," [[you finally say]], holding both Lyran's and T's hands.

This. [[This you could live with.]]

[[...->prologue1]]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- [[-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-->epilogue one]] -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

-_-_-_-_- [[Epilogue->1]] _-_-_-_-_

It's been many years since that night, and you still see T's old face in your nightmares sometimes. But then when you wake, they're right there across the campfire, [[keeping watch over you and Lyran]] as you rest.

It's been years since that night, and you've seen so many other places since then, travelling with your companions to wherever the wind takes you. Showing them all that you'd seen in your travels before and then some. Rather than drifting, this time you were truly experiencing the world and all it had to offer. With both T and Lyran at your side to enjoy it with. And that made it [[so much better]] the second time round.

[[...->epilogue-good]]

You enjoy many, many decades like this. Discovering every inch of the world... Until [[you can't anymore.]]

While T may be rusting, and Lyran's marks may be fading, they haven't [[aged]] as quickly as you have.

While visiting Sieki and Diz one last time in The Inky Quill, [[you pass in your sleep.]]

And that's where [[your story ended.]]

[[...->endend]]

But it's not where [[there's did.]]

Lyran turns, her marks fading to dull scars shortly after your passing. She shuts off from everyone. Packs and leaves in the middle of the night, purposely on her own. T sees, but doesn't follow. Instead, they stay. They stay by your bedside and then by your grave when they finally bury you. Stones are stacked above your resting place meticulously, your dagger buried with you with your scarf wrapped around it, and years upon years later when all has been and gone, empires risen and fell, your grave still stands. [[One lone bot rusted still beside it.]]

-_-_- [[*-End-*]] _-_-_

Double-click this passage to edit it.

And then yOU BRANDISH YOUR FUCKING KNIFE LIKE THE PISSED OFF PERSON [[YOU FUCKING ARE->"Get fucked, Bitch."]]