<h1>+When Bodies Collide+</h1>
<h2><p>+Preface+</p></h2>
<h3>This is a horror novel, inspired by gothic horror like Frankenstien, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Edgar Allan Poe. There will be unsavoury topics, would you like to see a conent warning list?</h3>
<p> [[●yes please|conent warning]]</p>
<p> [[●no thanks|prolog1]]</p>!content warnings
<center><h2>this list is subject to change as the game updates</h2>
-dead bodies of varying freshness
-grave robbing and desicration of a corpse
-paranoia
-general gore and violence
</center>
<p>[[●Back|start]]</p>Your hands are numb as you fastened the thick apron straps around your back. The task ahead would be gruesome, and truthfully you were not sure you would be able to pull it off.
At least the amphlitheater would be empty. No crowds of fellow students jockeying for position during your first dissection.
Silver linings and all that.
Steeling yourself with one final breath, you pushed open the thin door separating you from your [[grim task.|pg2]]
“You need to hurry.” Your professor doesn’t turn to greet you as you enter the operating stage, focusing instead on laying out various tools. “Bodies this fresh don’t come cheap- we may not have a chance like this again.”
Your sharp inhale was thunderous in the empty amphlitheater. The last thing your nerves needed was a reminder of the… //less than legal// methods used to get this body.
“I will not have my star student getting cold feet,” Dr. Frankenford said, his voice harsh as ever as he turned to hand you the scalpel, “are you or are you not prepared to do what must be done?”
“Of course, [[Professor.”|pg3]]
It really was a shame the university still lacked electric lighting. The dull glow of gas lamps barely lit up the room, and you had to keep in mind the position of the lights as you made the first incision.
The cut is bloodless- the heart long since stopped beating. Two clean cuts, starting at the shoulders and moving inwards towards the sternum, one long cut down the torso to the navel. Every movement exactly as you memorized from your anatomy lectures.
You've seen this procedure done maybe three times in the year you've studied here, all on bodies much less fresh than this. The cadaver may stink, but it’s nothing compared to the man left rotting in a field for days before being found and brought in. Your first experience in the autopsy theater left all but the doctor himself wretching at the stench.
The autopsy marches on.
Skin and flesh peel back to reveal organs and bones. Your professor watches over your shoulder, face carefully neutral.
<p>[[●The blade is steady in your hands.|pg3-a]]</p>
<p>[[●Your hands shake slightly.|pg3-b]]</p>Every movement is calculated and precise as you carry out the dissection.
There is no room for doubt or the sinking sickness settling in your stomach when it comes to medicine.
You work methodically, removing organs to be examined and preserved. Occasionally Dr. Frankenford comments on a specific organ or asks you to identify its purpose. Clinical and impersonal. Try to forget that this body was alive and moving yesterday.
His heart weighs 10 ounces.
His brain [[48.|pg4]]
Is it ever truly easy? To cut apart what was a few short hours ago a living person? To say nothing of the circumstance that brought the corpse under your knife. You can feel sweat dripping down your forehead as you try to block out nausea.
You work methodically, removing organs to be examined and preserved. Occasionally Dr. Frankenford comments on a specific organ or asks you to identify its purpose. Clinical and impersonal. Try to forget that this body was alive and moving yesterday.
His heart weighs 10 ounces.
His brain [[48.|pg4]]
What is left in front of you is a hollowed out shell, in the most literal sense of the word. You’re exhausted. The last of your energy washed away as you scrub your hands clean.
“Marvelous work tonight,” The deep voice of your professor breaks the thick silence, “I knew I picked right to take you under my wing.”
<p>[[●You should feel proud.|pg5-a]]</p>
<p>[[●You’re simply too tired to care.|pg5-b]]</p>
<p>[[●The compliment helps wash away some of the night’s events.|pg5-c]]</p>You should feel proud, right? Everything went smoothly. No organs were damaged. The dissection was a success and your stone-faced mentor just complimented you for it.
So why does everything feel so wrong?
Why are your hands jittering as you dry them on the rough towel? When did your breathing get so heavy? Why-
Why aren’t you fine?
A harsh slap on the back physically pushes you out of your inward spiral, forcing you to stumble forwards, correcting your balance to avoid toppling over.
“The first is always the hardest," Dr. Frankenford sighs, stepping close and putting his worn hands on your shoulders. Forcing you to focus on the familiar lines of his face instead of the macabre fruits of the night’s labour.
“Go back to your dorm, get some sleep.” He seems- older, somehow, in an instant. The room’s inky darkness creeps into your mentor’s face, pulling sorrow beyond his years out of the wrinkles and creases. His pale skin turned ashen and ghastly. “Don’t worry about class tomorrow- go do something to take your [[mind off it.”|pg6]]
God, what time even is it? You had to meet the professor at midnight, and now you’ve been here for… hours. The suffocating darkness of the room, the lack of any sun or moon, completely cuts you off from guessing how long you spent here. All you know is the ache in your feet and the heaviness of your eyes.
Turning away from the sink, all you can offer is a weak smile.
Dr. Frankenford sighs, stepping close and putting his worn hands on your shoulders. Forcing you to focus on the familiar lines of his face instead of the macabre fruits of the night’s labour.
“Go back to your dorm, get some sleep.” He seems- older, somehow, in an instant. The room’s inky darkness creeps into your mentor’s face, pulling sorrow beyond his years out of the wrinkles and creases. His pale skin turned ashen and ghastly. “Don’t worry about class tomorrow- go do something to take your [[mind off it.”|pg6]]
Dr. Frankenford’s words help wash down the bile rising in your throat. This was worth it. The weight of one corpse is barely a fraction of the lives you’ll save with your newfound knowledge.
“Thank you, Professor,” the words stick in your throat.
Dr. Frankenford sighs, stepping close and putting his worn hands on your shoulders. Forcing you to focus on the familiar lines of his face instead of the macabre fruits of the night’s labour.
“Go back to your dorm, get some sleep.” He seems- older, somehow, in an instant. The room’s inky darkness creeps into your mentor’s face, pulling sorrow beyond his years out of the wrinkles and creases. His pale skin turned ashen and ghastly. “Don’t worry about class tomorrow- go do something to take your [[mind off it.”|pg6]]
You know when you’ve been dismissed. Without another look, you move to push open the thick doors sealing you in. Your first breath of fresh air in hours is like a spark of electricity, simultaneously waking you up and washing off the traces of decay still clinging on despite your best efforts at the sink.
The thud of the heavy doors behind you sounds like finality as you pass back into the [[realm of the living.|pg7]]The walk back to the dorms is cold.
Early spring nights are cold. You don’t have a jacket.
The hollow, empty exhaustion after an endless night of gruesome work leaves you…
[[Cold.|pg8]]
Your stiff mattress feels like Tantalus’ apple, [[forever just out of reach.|pg9]]
You don’t bother trying to find a light when you finally get back to your cramped campus dorm. It wouldn’t be worth finding a match.
Methodically you set about removing the many layers of stiff, starched clothing. Making quick work of buttons, dumping the pile unceremoniously on the floor.
Tomorrow’s problem.
Now’s the time for rest.
To simply let sleep consume you and push tonight firmly into the [[past.|pg10]]
There is blood staining your clean, [[white shirt.|name select]]
this is the end of the current demo. You can follow the project here or follow my dev tumblr to get updates and extra content
<a href="https://whenbodiescollide.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">''When Bodies Collide Tumblr''</a><<nobr>>
<<set $name = "Jay", $surname = "Doe">>
<</nobr>>\
Please set the good doctor's name
preset names:
> <label><<radiobutton "$name" "Henry">> Henry</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$name" "Marry">> Marry</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$name" "Edgar">> Edgar</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$name" "Dorian">> Dorian</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$name" "Camellia">> Camellia</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$name" "Griffin">> Griffin</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$name" "Catherine">> Catherine</label>
Enter you own name:
<<textbox "$name" "">>
Preset last names:
> <label><<radiobutton "$surname" "Frankenstein">> Frankenstein</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$surname" "Hyde">> Hyde</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$surname" "Poe">> Poe</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$surname" "West">> West</label>
> <label><<radiobutton "$surname" "Monroe">> Monroe</label>
Enter your own last name:
<<textbox "$surname" "">>\
<p>[[●Confirm|pronoun set]]<<if $name is "">><<set $name = "Jay">><</if>><<if $surname is "">><<set $surname = "Doe">><</if>><!--[[pronoun set]]--></p>Please set the doctor's pronouns
[[1. She/her pronouns.|Next Passage][$heshe to "she", $himher to "her", $hisher to "her", $hishers to "hers", $himself to "herself"]]
[[2. He/him pronouns.|Next Passage][$heshe to "he", $himher to "him", $hisher to "his", $hishers to "his", $himself to "himself"]]
[[3. Xe/xem pronouns.|Next Passage][$heshe to "xe", $himher to "xem", $hisher to "xyr", $hishers to "xyrs", $himself to "xemself"]]
[[4. They/them pronouns.|Next Passage][$heshe to "they", $himher to "them", $hisher to "their", $hishers to "theirs", $himself to "themself"]]
Your name is $name $surname, and your pronous are $heshe/$himher, is that correct?
<p>[[●yes, that's correct|chap1]]</p>
<p>[[●no, take me back|name select]]</p><h3>Warm late morning light filters in through the blinds of the small, unfamiliar room.</h3> The sensation gently lulls you from your dreamless slumber.
This is the most peaceful wake-up call you’ve had in recent memory. No loud roommates, no classes to worry about, all of that done and over with your graduation last month. All of that is long behind you now.
With a slow stretch, you extract yourself from the thin blanket of your inn bed. After a whole week on the road, sleeping in a bed feels like heaven.
The room isn’t fancy, just enough room for a bed, nightstand, and wash basin, but you’ll be leaving soon anyways. Before you can worry about leaving, it’s time to get ready for the day ahead. Filling the basin with the provided jug, you set about washing off the weariness and grime you were too exhausted to deal with when you arrived.
The water is pleasantly cold and works wonders to clear the last dregs of sleep still clinging to your mind. Armed with a damp rag, you go through the motions of carefully cleaning off. Surgical precision a leftover habit from your time in the operating room.
The last thing anyone wants is to discover hours later that any number of unpleasant substances went unnoticed. You only make that mistake once.
By the time you deem yourself clean, the basin water is dark and murky. Proof of your tiring journey.
Well, on with the rest of it then, you turn to your open luggage. Time to find a decently fresh outfit to start the day. Harder than it sounds with such a small [[luggage bag.|Clothes 1]]
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://whenbodiescollide.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">''By Junebug''</a></div><<if $fashion is "plain">> All the better to face the day in something comfortable and familiar.
<<elseif $fashion is "fancy">> Nothing too expensive, but you do like to keep up with the times when possible.
<</if>>
On second thought, is this really your choice?
<p>[[●Yes, you're ready to face the day.|next]]</p>
<p>[[●No, on second thought...|Clothes 1]]</p>What outfit do you pick to face the day?
<p>[[●A blouse and skirt, nothing too fancy.|clothes comfirm][$fashion to "plain"]]</p>
<p>[[●Your average, day-to-day suit.|clothes comfirm][$fashion to "plain"]]</p>
<p>[[●A bespoke suit, up to date with the latest trends|clothes comfirm][$fashion to "fancy"]]</p>
<p>[[●A modern day suit, complete with matching skirt|clothes comfirm][$fashion to "fancy"]]</p>
And, there. With the last of the many buttons fastened, you’re finally dressed and ready to take on the day.
It is only as you start stuffing extra socks back in their place that you notice something else has fallen out of your luggage.
A letter to be exact. From Dr. Frankenford. The very thing that started you on this whole adventure, slipped under your door the day after [[graduation.|1pg2]]
<h1>+Chapter One+</h1>
<h2>[[The Manor in the Woods|1pg1]]</h2>
//Dr. $surname,//
You still feel a swell of pride- you, finally, a doctor. You know your mentor feels the same; he told you as much the last time you spoke.
//No doubt you are destined for great things. You have proven yourself more than capable as my pupil, and I have no doubt history will remember your name. Any position you apply for would be lucky to have you. However, competition for such a position is fierce, and given the circumstances, I cannot guarantee your grades and my recommendations would be enough to get you through the door.
So as an alternative, I have a rather unusual opportunity to present.
As a favour to a dear friend, I am offering you a job, working as a private doctor for the family. I am, unfortunately, in no position to disclose why they need a doctor on a permanent basis. But I can say the previous head of the house was a dear friend of mine, and I am compelled to see his wishes through. You are, of course, free to decline. My obligation lies only in extending the offer. But I do believe wholeheartedly in your aptitude for the position.//
[[Dr. Albert Frankenford|1pg3]]
A pit of regret settles in your stomach as you glare at the slightly crumpled letter. It feels foolish now, sitting in a glorified linen closet in the middle of nowhere, how you jumped at the first position offered to you and didn’t even bother applying anywhere else.
Before regret can turn into outright shame, you shove the letter unceremoniously back into the depths of your luggage.
Here you are, in a dusty inn room, the furthest away from home you’ve ever been, about to take a job as a favour to your professor. For better or for worse, it’s too late to turn back now.
The grimy mirror barely reflects an image back at you, but you take one last chance to look over your appearance before stepping out into the hotel proper.
First impressions [[and all that.|1pg4]]
Outside, the small village you came all this way for is waking up with the sunrise. People are milling about, getting to work, and starting the day's tasks before the afternoon heat can set in.
You can hear the streets coming to life as you make the short trek from the cramped room to the main floor of the inn. There are no windows on this floor, the only light coming from ever-burning candles. The flickering flame does little to chase away the darker shadows clinging to corners.
Oh well. After breakfast, you’ll only have to come back to collect your luggage and never have to see this depressing place again.
Speaking of [[breakfast-|1pg5]]
“Good to see you up and at 'em, Doctor.” The inn’s owner is about as old as dust. He told you when you arrived last night that this inn was the first building in the little town of Nightshire, and his father was the one who built it with his own two hands.
From the look of things, you’re inclined to believe him.
“Good morn-”
“Ah, come come!” the man, Harwin, if you remember correctly, cuts you off, “Let’s get some food in you before I talk your ear off.”
Harwin ushers you to the kitchen surprisingly quickly for a man his age. The kitchen, lit by the oven fire, is thankfully brighter than the inn at large. It’s a small, cluttered room filled with the pleasant aroma of freshly baked bread. Harwin cuts a generous slice from the loaf, assuring you it’s ‘fresh out the oven!’ as he coats it in what looks like blackberry jam. He passes you the plate, hands shaking slightly with age but with a genuine smile painted across his face.
Even if you weren’t starving, you doubt you could refuse the offered breakfast.
“Ah, good for the old heart to have a customer after so long. Not much travel out this far in the country, I’m afraid.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” you reply between bites. The jam is surprisingly good.
“Don’t trouble yourself over my old plight, doc.” Harwin waves a dismissive hand, but his face seems just a touch softer, “We’ll survive. We always do.”
The silence that settles over the kitchen is only mildly uncomfortable as you finish your breakfast. But soon the bread and jam are gone, and Harwin is ushering the plate out of your hand and into the sink.
“Don’t worry about washing up,” He dismisses when you offer to help, “my niece comes around at noon to help out- such a sweet girl [[she is.”|1pg6]]
After a bit of chitchat, the innkeeper ushers you outside to ‘see for yourself how lovely our town is.’ The streets are busy for a small town, but nothing compared to the hustle back at the (college name). It’s easy to navigate around people, even as they stop to give you curious looks. It’s honestly unnerving how everyone seems wholly baffled at the sight of you. Well, they’ll just have to get used to you. It’s not like you’re leaving any time soon.
There isn’t much to do other than wander, as small as this town is, so you wander. Familiarizing yourself with the sights and layout of the streets while looking for [[something to do.|1pg7]]
It’s about eleven when something catches your eye- a flash of yellow through a window just bright enough to hold your attention long enough to register what you’re looking at.
A man is sitting in the window, dressed in the most vibrant bright yellow vest and matching coat you’ve ever seen. The man’s smile perfectly matches the brightness of his clothes, and it’s a smile you know exceptionally well.
It seems you’ve wandered into your oldest childhood friend- after three years apart and a full week away from your hometown.
How do you feel, seeing Victor Rouse in this most obscure of locations after so long?
<p>[[●It is strange. What reason could he possibly have for being here?|1pg7-a]]</p>
<p>[[●You’re overjoyed! You really needed a friendly face.|1pg7-b]]</p>
Victor had never liked travel as long as you’ve known him. When you were eight, he cried and cried at the prospect of half a day's travel to visit his grandmother. He never warmed up to the idea. It is bizarre to see him so far from home.
But then again, you haven’t spoken since you left for medical school three years ago. A lot can change. Maybe you should go say hello and catch up? Or maybe you should just keep walking and pretend you never saw him. It has been three years after all-
Ah. He’s spotted you. Your fate is sealed as your old friend excitedly waves you inside, clearly recognizing you just as quickly as you spotted him. Though you’d imagine the blind could spot him in that outfit.
Looks like you’re having an [[early lunch!|1pg8]]
It’s been far too long since you’ve seen your childhood friend. You sent letters back and forth for a while after you left for medical school, but they got more and more spread out as you both got busier and busier. Besides, letters aren’t the same as seeing someone in person.
At the sight of a familiar face, some of the weight of your travels and the stress of worrying over a new job washes off. It’s all you can do to stop yourself from knocking on the window to get Victor’s attention. But you don’t need to get his attention; as you step closer to the window, he glances up and catches your eye. With that charming smile you remember so well, he excitedly waves you into the bakery to have a seat with him.
Looks like you’re having an [[early lunch!|1pg8]]The town bakery is still rather empty- which makes it easy enough to spot Victor from inside.
The midday sun catches his deep brown skin in a warm glow. He looks good. Perhaps even better than when you last saw him three years ago.
“$name! My friend, how good to see you after so long!” He stands and pulls a chair for you from a nearby table as you approach.
“Truly,” The hard wood of the chair is not comfortable, but you’ll make do.
What was your relationship with Victor before you left for medical school?
<p>[[●You were practically inseparable.|1pg9][$Vpast to "bff"]]</p>
<p>[[●Your feelings for him went beyond friendship.|1pg9][$Vpast to "crush"]]</p>
<p>[[●It was an average childhood friendship.|1pg9][$Vpast to "friend"]]</p><<if $Vpast is "bff">>You were neighbors growing up, and every bit of spare time was spent together. Partners in crime, even. Afternoons were spent exploring the city and running around your neighboring homes. Even as you got older, you stuck together through thick and thin.
<<elseif $Vpast is "crush">>He was your closest friend and, over time, your first childhood crush. You didn’t let your butterflies impact your adventures, even if some adults would coo about what a perfect couple the two of you would make. Your parents even joked about arranging a marriage on occasion, but your families are (thankfully) just outside the sphere of that particular custom.
<<elseif $Vpast is "friend">>Your friendship was primarily one of proximity. Victor was your neighbor and both your parents encouraged the two of you to spend time together. And you did, but neither of you were too close. You had other mutual friends, neighborhood kids, and school friends to fill out the areas lacking in this friendship.
<</if>>
“Ah, where are my manors,” Victor cuts off your musing, tapping his hands on the table before standing up again, “allow me to treat you to a pastry! The blackberry tart is particularly charming.”
Right, you’re in a bakery. Victor was eating lunch before you arrived. You let yourself take in the smells and sights of the shop as you look over at the counter. Fruits and fresh bread fill the air; it is a lovely little shop. And the baker seems quite skilled if the smell is anything to go by.
Hmm, what to pick? Knowing Victor, anything he likes is sweet enough to rot teeth.
<p>[[●Take his recommendation.|1pg10][$treat to "tart"]]</p>
<p>[[●Something less sweet, perhaps.|1pg10][$treat to "sandwich"]]</p>
<p>[[●Just a drink, thanks.|1pg10][$treat to "drink"]]</p>
<p>[[●Really, you’re fine. You’re still full from breakfast..|1pg10][$treat to "drink2"]]</p>
<<if $treat is "tart">>“If you insist, Victor, a tart sounds lovely.”
“Wonderful! I shall return shortly then, old friend!”
<<elseif $treat is "sandwich">>“I’ll take a sandwich instead, thanks.”
“Not one for sweets, huh, old friend?” He winks as he tucks in his chair, “I’ll be sure to remember that.”
<<elseif $treat is "drink">>“I’m truly not hungry, Victor, but you know, a drink would be lovely right about now,” You’ve been walking around the small village for a few hours now, after all.
“Of course! I’ll get myself another drink while I’m up, then.”
<<elseif $treat is "drink2">>“I just had a large breakfast,” You start, motioning for him to sit down again, “don’t bother yourself with me.”
“It would never be a bother $name, not for you.” Victor’s usual smile turns softer, “besides, I would feel bad eating alone. I’m buying you a drink, and you won’t talk me out of it.”
<</if>>
With the determination of a soldier, Victor walks over to the counter to retrieve your <<if $treat is "drink2">>drink <<else>> $treat<</if>>. Nothing could stop him on his mission, except perhaps chatting with the baker once he reached the counter. You can’t help but think that he really has come into his own in your years apart.
Victor was a nervous child, scared of strangers, and horrible at making friends. Looking back now, you’re sure the only reason he ever left his room with its storybooks and safe walls was that he wanted to be around you/that his mother wouldn’t allow him to spend perfectly good afternoons inside.
And yet here you are, watching him laugh with a perfect stranger as if they were old friends! It’s nice to see him doing so well. You try your best to swallow down the unpleasant taste it leaves in your mouth as he turns back with the promised <<if $treat is "drink2">>drink <<else>> $treat<</if>>
“Right, here we are.” Victor places the <<if $treat is "tart">>plates<<elseif $treat is "sandwich">>plates<<else>>cups<</if>> before pulling out his chair.
<p>[[●Ask about his family.|1pg11-f]]</p>
<p>[[●Ask what brings him here.|1pg11-v]]</p>“Thank you.” The two of you fall into a brief moment of silence. Tense wouldn’t be the right word, but you need to break it nonetheless. “How’s your family been? It’s been so long.”
“As well as usual, the mums of the neighborhood still have that book club going.”
The conversation drifts through hollow pleasantries, slowly gaining back the familiarity of close friends. You learn, rather unsurprisingly, that Victor has taken up working at his father’s very successful butchers. “Just manning the front, though,” he assures you, “could never stomach the actual butchering.”
<p>[[●Joke about surgery.|1pg11-a]]</p>
<p>[[●agree that it’s gross.|1pg11-b]]</p>
<p>[[●move on.|1pg11-c]]</p>“Thank you,” you started, deciding to tackle the elephant in the room, “you know, Victor, I cannot for the life of me imagine what would bring you so far from home.”
It was a statement, not a question. Victor’s face turns a shade guilty, and he hesitates for a second before speaking. “Ah well,” he looks down at his plate, then off to the side, bringing his hand up to rub at his neck, [[“you are the reason.”|1pg12]]
“You know, we aren’t too different, butchers and surgeons,” Victor’s visible confusion eggs you onwards, “The end results may be different, but we both chop meat for a living.”
It’s impossible to keep your serious face as Victor blanches. It feels so good to get a laugh, even as he swats playfully at your arm. “Terrible Doctor $surname, just horrid! Whatever did medical school do to you!”
Your joke seems to have broken the last of the ice. You and Victor talk for a long while, conversation flowing happily and freely in the warmth of the bakery.
“You know, here I was worried enough to come all this way to check up on you, and you’re happily making jokes!” The admission takes a few seconds to set in and even longer for Victor to fully realize what he’s said.
“A-ah! [[Let me explain-”|1pg12]]
“I know what you mean,” you sigh, “I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to the bloodier parts of medicine.”
"I could never understand why you decided on surgery." Victor half whispers, looking down at his empty plate, " I mean medicine, sure, but I have no idea how anyone could handle cutting off someone's arm."
"Someone has to do it," you reply, the words flat and practiced, "better lose an arm than your life."
"Quite…"
Grime silence fills the air like fog, thick and tense and heavy. It stretches until it's unbearable, and you're about to apologize for bringing it up before Victor clears his throat.
“There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. When you don’t stop him, he keeps talking, “I’m not just here for the fresh air- [[I’m here for you.”|1pg12]]
"I hope working the front is pleasant enough, at least?” he gives a noncommittal shrug, and you feel it’s best to move on. You both go about in turn, asking simple questions about how life has treated the other. Slowly but surely, the conversations get more familiar. Fond stories of childhood misadventures and inside jokes break the ice, but always with an air of distant politeness.
Victor shifts around in his seat, waiting for a suitable break in conversion to interject. “I do want to be upfront with you $name, I didn’t just come here to sightsee. [[I came to see you.”|1pg12]]
Now that the dam was open, Victor couldn’t stop himself. You barely had time to look surprised before he continued. “Taking a job all the way in [village name] has people talking! Everyone figured you’d come back home after university, and then people started talking about something horrible having happened at that manor and- and it’s all probably just rumors I’ve gotten worked up over.”
“Victor, I… I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” You’re reminded of the small, shy boy you grew up with. “It was an impulsive decision, rather silly of me, honestly. But, well, now that I’m here, I might as well stay a while. We can catch up properly while you settle in.”
“That would be lovely- though, I’m not sure how much free time I’ll have,” did he really come all this way just to check up on you? You’re honestly not sure how to feel about this revelation.
<p>[[●Guilty.|1pg13][$Vmeeting to "guilty"]]</p>
<p>[[●Weirdly happy.|1pg13][$Vmeeting to "happy"]]</p>
<p>[[●Annoyed.|1pg13][$Vmeeting to "annoyed"]]</p>
<p>[[●Confused.|1pg13][$Vmeeting to "confused"]]</p><<if ($Vmeeting is "guilty") and ($Vpast is "friend")>>
You already felt bad about losing touch, but to find out he’s come all this way just because Victor’s worried about you really rubs salt in the wound. Maybe if you had just returned his letters or bothered to visit before you left, you could have assured him you had everything under control.
<<elseif $Vmeeting is "guilty">>You already felt horrible about losing touch, but to find out he’s come all this way just because Victor’s worried about you really rubs salt in the wound. Maybe if you had just returned his letters or bothered to visit before you left, you could have assured him you had everything under control.
<<elseif ($Vmeeting is "happy") and ($Vpast is "friend")>>Seeing Victor go through all of this for you is oddly heartwarming. It’s not like you were close, and time and distance didn’t help. But, in some way, it’s nice to know that even after everything, some things don’t change. You still have a place back home.
<<elseif $Vmeeting is "happy">>Knowing that your friendship hasn’t faded after everything brings a smile to your face. It’s nice knowing some things don’t change, and you still have a friend back home.
<<elseif $Vmeeting is "annoyed">>Part of the appeal of taking a job so far away was to escape everything about your old life. You wanted a fresh start away from the cramped little street you grew up on. Something fresh and new and exciting! But can you really call it a fresh start if old ties are coming to check up on you? Christ, you haven’t even spoken in years. What on earth could have compelled him to do a wellness check like this?
<<elseif ($Vmeeting is "confused") and ($Vpast is "friend")>>You’re confused more than anything. You were never really close growing up, and three years apart couldn't have done anything to help. How nasty were the rumors to send him all this way to check up on you?
<<elseif $Vmeeting is "confused">>You’re confused more than anything. When you drifted apart over those three years, you figured that was it. Maybe you’d come home and make awkward small talk with Victor, but to come all this way when you haven’t even spoken in years? How nasty were the rumors to send him all this way to check up on you?
<</if>>
Regardless, the conversation picks back up after a few moments. The two of you sit in the little bakery for a few hours, just chatting about anything and everything that comes to mind. Victor recounts the misadventures of his younger brothers, and you tell him some less-than-ideal situations you found yourself in while at university, mainly regarding your roommate. It's a bit awkward, and there are several lulls, but you have such a good time you lose yourself in conversation.
After a while and a quip about how the two of you got horribly lost in the winding streets of downtown Falkford and only got home late at night, you realize you haven’t been keeping an eye on the time.
“Oh, sorry, Victor,” you pull out your watch to confirm the time, and yep, you’re almost late, “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this short.”
“No need to apologize, I’ve kept you long enough.” You both stand and prepare to leave, “Have a good night, $name.”
With a small wave and a muttered goodbye, you rush out of the bakery and down the street back to the inn. The unfamiliar dirt streets do [[nothing to aid you.|1pg14]]
You make it back just in time to see the coachman loading your luggage into the back of the carriage. She ignores your muttered apology and excuse about losing track of time, simply grabbing the reins and taking her seat. “We’ll have to make good time on the road. The lord doesn’t like waiting.”
Ah, well, so much for good first impressions, then. You lug yourself into the slightly rundown carriage car, and just as your feet leave the ground, the coachman cracks the whip, sending the horses running. The acceleration sends you crashing back into the doorframe, and you barely manage to pull yourself inside and slam the door before Falling out. The pace is quick, the road is rough, and you dread how sore you’ll be when you [[arrive|1pg15]]
As the carriage races to the edge of the small town, the baker can’t help but watch the friendly stranger leave with pity. The poor fool was right to worry. The last thing this town needed, they thought, was more poor fools wrapped up in whatever wickedness was brewing at the [[old manor.|demo end]]