Overboard

>>26367
>Amelia
When Amelia becomes one of the victims of the prank on Claire, the one responsible for soaking her favorite clothes speaks up.

<Sorry...

But in her anger, Amelia ignores him, and even insults him, triggering a speech while being pointed at by the idiot.

"Don't... point... at me..." -he mutters-

<Fine! Yeah, I'm an idiot, a hopeless fool!

(Yes.)

<But I'm also your partner...

(Sadly UA doesn't offer classes from home...)

<The truth is, you're not exactly the best person in the world either

(No, I'm bottom-of-the-barrel trash too, so what?)

<antisocial, weird, suicidal, hurtful, and sometimes downright cruel.

(Did you catch the suicidal part?)

(Meh... not an inaccurate picture.)

<You can hate me, call me whatever you want—I don't care, go ahead and vent if it makes you feel better.

"Asshole."

(Meh... insults aren't that big a deal... not worth dwelling on.)

<But you know what? I love you, Ame-chan!

"What?" -she asks, showing no expression on her face... but feeling confused inside-

<I love you because you're my partner, and I care about you.

"I don't think 'love' is the right word for that sentence."

<You matter to me, Ame-chan, and look where we are—stuck together on this trip...

(It's true... remembering that annoys me.)

<You can reject me all you want

(So... you're serious about loving me...? What a shame.)

<but I'll keep inviting you and dragging you places anyway, just like Claire does

(Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to do something on my own? That I'm not just a robot you can drag around everywhere? I have my own goal, you know.)

<And you know why? Because you matter to us, Amelia.

(mental sigh I have no idea why out of all the students, I'm the one who 'matters'...)

<Sorry, was that too dramatic?

sigh "You're completely mistaken." -she says, out of nowhere- "I don't know if you were serious, but I'll be direct: you don't love me. You don't know me—nobody does. I don't have friends, and I don't want any. You're just another classmate I'm forced to interact with, like everyone else. If I hate you less, it's only because you're one of the lesser evils... That's all. If you're attracted to me, it's only because of how I look... which would just make you a creepy pervert, since I don't even have a body..." -Amelia... simply hadn't developed at all. Not even a little-
She talked too much, so she just stopped.

"What I mean is: I don't love you, I don't like anyone. I'll live and die alone..." -a brief pause, but she continues- "in short: no."

He took it as a love confession. Amelia doesn't like love.

She didn't hate Gaspar more after that... but she didn't hate him any less either.

<Don't bother Ame-chan, or she'll strike back.

That was true—now the blonde was already plotting a painful revenge over something as small as getting mocked and nearly splashed by that woman.

<We were just having fun, like kids. What's wrong with that?

(How annoying.)

They throw Aneko into the pool maybe soaking Amelia again, maybe not which was somewhat funny... not funny enough for Amelia to even smile, but still somewhat funny.

(The fall of the pool queen... destroyed by her own kingdom. An interesting tale.)

<Two in a row, one more for a hat trick!

"Don't even think about it, creep." -she said, trying to avoid being next-

<By the way, you're from another class, right? What's your name?

(She already said that...) or did she? The timeline has been destroyed
>>26433
A while later, after drying off the flea, Gapoo once again puts his hand on her shoulder, making the girl shiver before she swats it away.

"Don't touch me."

<Better take a step back, okay?

Sigh "Good idea..."

Amelia turns and walks away from the group at the pool, the towel draped over her shoulders like a cape. Her goal was to use this moment to slip away unnoticed and head to the hotel, to talk to the teacher who hopefully was still in her room since she probably has no life.

(Maybe she's still there... it'd be really bad luck if she actually went to the bar like that mole servant said...)

And so Smurfette escaped... or maybe not. She was just walking normally; it'd be easy to stop her if someone wanted to.

(>>26350
>>26351
>>26352)Claire needs a visit to the psychologist
(>>26367
>>26423
>>26433)
(>>26733
>>26734)
>...
>After Gapoo tackled Claire into the pool, both students managed to get out, only to find themselves facing another pair of students, one of them displaying a rather unpleasant attitude.
>Claire glanced at the book the guy was carrying—unfortunately, it wasn't a Bible, but "The Art of War" by Sun Tzu.
>The girl named Aneko showed an increasingly hostile attitude; as soon as Claire joined the conversation, the clash of personalities only heightened the tension in the air.

"Are you sure, sweetie? What kind of good students go around assaulting people with water?" The more the conversation progressed, the worse it got. "Censor me, you say? Is that a threat? From what I see, you're just a spoiled little daddy's princess. I'd love to see you get your hands dirty—if you've got the guts to do it."

>"And aren't you misjudging our teachers?"

"All adults are the same. They only care about getting their paycheck so they can waste their money on stupid things, like betting on pool or wrecking their kidneys."

>When Amelia started complaining about her class in general, the intention flew completely over Claire's head—she misunderstood and thought they were referring to another class.

"What did you hear the brown guy say when he showed us this place? We already live here, stupid..." Claire walked away, no longer willing to listen to the conversation.

>And then Amelia's previous turn happens kek
>After Feng scared Aneko off, she went to complain to her brother for having been left there like a soggy lettuce without intervening. That's when Gapoo climbed out of the pool at this point I've already given up on organizing the timeline and started talking to them.

"Leave me out of your fights, I just came here to read," the boy replied.

"Shut up," her sister snapped at him. "Who the hell do you think you are, speaking to me without me addressing you first?" Aneko pointed her finger at Gapoo, until suddenly the sailor grabbed her by the waist and repeated the dunking maneuver. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? LET GO OF ME!" She began screaming and kicking.

>Gapoo and Aneko fell into the pool again, just like earlier with Claire.

"LET GO OF ME!" She didn't stop screaming and kicking, now lightly punching Gapoo with her fists. "LET GO OF ME, FREAK, STATUE-FACED JERK!"

>Once he pulled her back out, she scrambled as far away from Gapoo as possible and took shelter close to her brother, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"D-do something, you idiot!"

"I'm almost done with my book. Wait a minute."
"That's it, you're the worst!" She retreated inside the hotel. Clearly, those siblings had a very healthy relationship.

"Answering your question," the brother said to Gapoo, "No, we're not part of any class. We live here."

>Shortly after, Claire returned to the pool, now wearing her swimsuit. Gapoo tackled her into the water again.
>Meanwhile, Amelia left the pool area.
>>26733
>>26734
>You left the pool with a towel over your shoulders, passing through the reception. There was Aneko, furiously drying her hair. She peeked out from under her towel and saw you.

"What are you staring at?" She technically spotted you first.

https://youtu.be/vbWAxSJ_EEg▾>The elevator doors opened, and then—moving at incredible speed—something dashed past you, causing you to spin around like a cartoon character. You could hear a small laugh coming from Aneko.
>Your spinning finally stopped, leaving you slightly nauseous. You looked toward the cause—easily recognizable anywhere. It was Japako, visibly agitated. She swung her head from side to side, her snakes doing the same, as if searching for something. Also... was she sniffing the air?

"Seiken?! Seiken?!" She didn't even seem to notice you. Receiving no response, she continued running until she disappeared from sight. Looks like she wouldn't be joining you to get that souvenir anytime soon.

"Uhhh, that's your teacher, right? You haven't even been here two hours and someone's already gone missing. Real professional standards at UA, I see." She quickly returned to her annoying attitude. "You gonna keep soaking people around here or what?" Didn't seem like she'd shut up anytime soon.

>...
>>26367
>>26423
>>26433
>...
>After all the small commotion at the pool implying ended, the annoying girl's brother closed his book and stood up from his chair.

"Hey you, come here. I'd like to have a word with you." Having stayed out of things during the earlier incident, what could he possibly want to talk to you about now?

>Out of mere curiosity or because of my damn balls, you approached him.

"Simply put, what you did to my sister a moment ago didn't sit well with me." It showed—he was clearly annoyed, despite nothing actually happening at that moment. "So I'd like to settle this in a way that doesn't get either of us in trouble." Trouble? "On your way here, did you hear about the training area they have?" He doubted a simple fight would be beyond a UA student's capabilities. If he wanted to resolve such a trivial matter with fists, he was either very proud and confident—or just plain stupid. "Though you can go change first if you want."

>First day, and you already had a cordial invitation to get your face smashed in. You could try to run away, but who knows what would happen if you did. Would you accept his proposal?

>...
 
(>>26350
>>26351
>>26352)
(>>26367
>>26423
>>26433)
ps://youtu.be/FOVnAnO0pTI
>After spending some time on the beach, and preferably I'd like it to not be night already so as to have room for more events kek with the day not stopping its advance, Claire went to one of the many kitchens, and entered to start cooking as if the kitchen were hers
>The cooks were busy, but the few who were there didn't show anger or any kind of problem with Claire's presence there
>The kitchen was immense, that was the best way to describe it, dozens of ovens, dozens of sinks and tables, shelves, refrigerators, and pantries where all sorts of ingredients were stored. Even this kitchen, which was immense in itself, was connected to another kitchen that surely must have had similar dimensions
>The conversations among the cooks implied that, for the most part, they were preparing food for the hotel's opening night, which was going to be tomorrow night. Another small portion was preparing food for the other few residents who had arrived early
>It was then that Gapoo made his entrance, and like Claire, he started cooking without anyone asking him to
>Claire, noticing this, tried to get support from the cooks to kick him and most of the cooks out
>Unfortunately, she didn't get much support; kicking out people who were there to earn a salary was going to be impossible
>A cook suggested that if there was a problem, they could go to the adjacent kitchen where there wasn't much staff currently, as the rest would arrive tomorrow to finish preparations for the hotel opening. Somewhere in the background, Gapoo received confirmation from the head cook, and like a game of telephone among the other cooks, the news spread that in the kitchen, everyone who had the desire to learn or practice the art of cooking was welcome
https://youtu.be/5eLjtCcsBZ4▾>It was then that suddenly Gapoo cut his finger while cooking. As one cook said he was going to get some bandages from a shelf, the door leading to the adjacent kitchen burst open
>A dark figure emerged from it, walking irregularly, and breathing raggedly, making strange sounds, as if it were an animal choking; it was a sight that could be considered terrifying... then the figure burped https://youtu.be/0naWO-EkLqg▾ several times in a row, in fact

"Ufff..." An arm poked out from the dark figure and scratched its head

https://youtu.be/k8PjJ7UuxEk▾>The dark figure's body turned out to be a pile of hair covering a person. The hair moved, revealing a good view; the strange figure was actually a boy, about your age, with red eyes and extremely long hair, reaching almost to his feet
>Several strands of it were undulating on their own; his quirk undoubtedly had to do with controlling his hair. Other long, thick strands were holding... food, one was holding a bottle of Pepsi, and another pair was holding a bucket of KFC along with some sauce, while in his free hand he was holding a piece of chocolate cake

"I smell blood..." Some cooks sighed and showed small irritated faces, while the boy scanned the place with his eyes until he found Gapoo, whom he pointed at with his finger, "Who are you people and what are you doing dirtying my kitchen?"

"It's not your kitchen, you can only be here because you're too strong for the guards to forcibly remove you," a cook commented. The boy paid him no attention

"So?" He opened the piece of chocolate cake he had in his hand and swallowed it in one bite, and gulped it down at high speed, "What are you doing here? No, who are you?"

>>1493 →
--&gt;
"You've already met Ayumi," Jacky continues. Ayumi is standing in the doorway and waves. "She's my second-in-command, my peanut butter to my jelly, my french fries to my Coke. Trust her as much as you trust me."

...

"You got here on time, but your partner here arrived two hours early. The weirdo—or weirdo, I’m not sure—was already waiting when we came to open up."

Who? Just by glancing to your side, you see there was someone else sitting there. Jacky was so eccentric that she stole all the attention.

“Hello.”

You couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl at first glance; they had waited for you to notice their presence before speaking. They had red eyes and white hair, a slender build, and you could see scar tissue on their throat and wrists. They were wearing a school uniform with a blue jacket and a beige skirt.

"I’m Motomu, Motomu Himura. I’m from Isamu School."

Isamu… you weren’t very familiar with the other hero schools, but you thought you’d heard something about Isamu from your senpais. If UA was the best school of all… Isamu was the worst. With no budget or proper equipment, rock-bottom grade averages, and a reputation as a dumping ground for troublemakers, it was full of delinquents and terrible students, producing so few heroes that people no longer considered it a hero school.

"I saw you on TV, I'm a fan of yours, I was on the edge of my seat watching the battles. I think you did great—the way you completely changed the script after barely qualifying to end up in first place, it was like something out of an anime, hehehe."

His voice was dry and raspy; he needed to drink some water.

>>1486 →
>Sally's lifeless arms couldn't properly adjust to the descent of her torso, because after piercing through them, Hannah had destroyed a significant portion of her supporting muscles. A metallic formation of blood immediately knocked Hannah to the ground. It was a shield hard enough to recklessly bend Hannah's superhuman body with a single, powerful impact. It was Mercy, who had finally reacted to Hannah's psychotic actions and swiftly subdued her. But no matter how reinforced her shield was or how hard she slammed Hannah into the ground, cracking the floor and walls instantly upon impact, her weapon would never be strong enough to block even remotely one of Hannah's cuts or her divine arsenal.
(Mercy) WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHY, HANNAH?! WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?! HANNAH!!! Hannah...-! Oh God... Ah... Aa-ah... No way...
(Hannah) God... have mercy on me. Oh, Lord. Forgive me... Forgive me, Lord. I feel such despair right now... Mercy.
>Hannah Cade Andronicus murdered Sally on a Sunday during a scheduled visit, mere hours after the complete disappearance of Doxia and Bagdeleyne Von Batenkaitos in Nod. She made no attempt to rise, though she could have defeated Mercy instantly using her abilities; instead, Hannah collapsed to the floor, weeping and lamenting. She begged God over and over again, in a way that made you remember how she originally obtained her weapon through one of the many visions you accessed many hours ago. You didn't have to watch any longer as Mercy struggled to process what had just happened—because the moment Hannah surrendered herself to her God, you blinked once more, out of this repeatable scene.
(...)
(Jack) PAQUITO?! I can't believe it's you! And here, in Boston!
>You returned to the hours before Hannah arrived at the hospital, during the time she met with Jack in Boston. The hole wasn't growing larger with each visit, but it clearly seemed that its depth and the number of victims down there had only increased. Hannah and Jack's conversation must have ended; she was slightly distanced from him, yet still watching the strangely unforeseen arrival of an alien whom Jack immediately recognized as his best friend from the past. It wasn't just impossible that this wasn't the Paquito from his story—this being seemed outright fake, and everything around Jack felt highly unbelievable. Witnessing such nonsense, even as a third-party observer, right after experiencing such an intense vision as the murder of an innocent girl by Hannah, felt like a cruel joke. You could almost lose yourself, forget that you possess a body capable of traveling throughout Boston or even beyond it into Nod to uncover more about Hannah or the Vatican—but what brought you back to reality was the presence of a third person in this entire conversation. Excluding Paquito, there was a visitor you'd never seen before in any of these fragmented stories from Hannah's life, appearing precisely when she put on an immaculate, regal suit and began acting far more frivolously than usual. That vision of Hannah wasn't merely sharing space with the other Hannah; judging by how her cloak behaved, she could phase through the floor and possessed the same level of intangibility as you across the repetition of these situations. The first thing this Hannah did upon noticing your presence—once she convinced herself she needed to speak to you—was apologize for your own decision.
(Hannah*) I'm sorry, but all the energy in this universe isn't all the energy in the human world, nor is it all the energy in the Afterlife Realm, and certainly not even close to all the energy from the place you originally came from. Maybe, if you had absorbed all of it, you could've achieved something far more transcendent than me. But right now, the omnipotence you possess is exactly the same omnipotence I possess—one bound to the infinite iteration of this world.
>She precisely defines what you've been experiencing over the last 6 hours: a semi-random appearance of events, from which you can find little to no information to free yourself from this state of observation. Based on how Hannah describes herself, you can figure out a couple of things. She is just like you in this mode of witnessing the past—unable to interfere or make her voice heard anywhere except your ears. Likewise, she's so tied to Hannah that she remains close to her, allowing the succession of random events to continue. You can't harm her in any way—she passes through you and you through her whenever you try to interact more with the objects around you. However, trying to touch this well-dressed Hannah should be far less complicated than trying to touch Paquito or somehow hit Hayes. Unlike you, who can move at inhuman speeds and directions just by thinking, the divine Hannah projected near you does nothing but passively orbit the nun Hannah currently in the alien's situation.

(Jack) Boston, Boston! Sorry, I can't stop saying it. Paquito, you have no idea how long I've waited for your return! Ever since I was a kid... I knew one day we'd have our adventures again, just like in the old days.
(Paquito) Yeah, it's me, Jack. Now give me the access code to Gemini's bank funds. I'll make sure to run your agency with zero transparency, just like you always wanted.
(Jack) Absolutely. You know I'd do anything for a friend.

>>1487 →
>The atmosphere changed instantly. This time you could forget about the nonsense the boss of Gemini might or might not say, because once again you found yourself watching Hannah, who had the mission of climbing yet another small mountain. Your view of this excerpt from the story was the primary way of perceiving—nothing more than a pair of motionless eyes following Hannah everywhere. Only due to the peripheral presence of a second entity in this place did you begin to materialize part of your body into this observational plane. And not just your body: as soon as you recognized the presence of the Hannah wielding the sword and bearing the aspect of royalty, you too began generating a layer, a crown, and attire suited to your manner of ruling the newly explored infinite. The divine-appearing Hannah explains in detail the situation binding both of you. She recounts everything about the role that this supremely powerful entity plays in this plane of futile intervention upon the world.
(Hannah*) I observe everything—the past, present, and future of a specific creature—throughout eternity, from every possible perspective, even if I must occupy Planck-length differences across this vast, expansive universe. Hannah’s prayers, for instance, serve as shortcuts, allowing me to revisit a moment. You’ve been using them repeatedly. But don’t get used to them, because when Hannah’s life ends, you’ll have to eternally witness the life of Doxiagropobilicus, then the life of LeSueur, every inhabitant of Nod, every inhabitant of Boston, of Earth, and every living being that existed in the past, exists in the present, and will exist in the future.
>Not exactly uplifting news. You’ve had more than enough of Hannah for a very long time now, having explored her fighting, living, and interacting with others extensively. What the Hannah before you explains summarizes certain specific flickers—like the multiple appearances you experienced when she held the lamb, or the silent ones she made while walking through the hospital corridor, determined in her next course of action. Aside from moments when Hannah prayed to God, you likely had to shift to instances too mundane to matter during observation. From the moment she was born until her death, someone else confirming that you’ll remain here for eternity, shifting positions to witness the same things—every time Hannah took a shit or masturbated—is neither news nor a task anyone would willingly accept as an omnipresent God. Following the explanation of Trinitarian Hannah, the Hannah both of you are observing finally reaches her destination hours after twilight. At the lonely peak of a mountain once used to protect livestock and serve as a prayer site, a black sword is embedded in the earth, ready for Hannah to claim it immediately. Trinitarian Hannah reveals one more aspect—perhaps the most important since she indirectly pronounced your sentence—a hidden ability to interfere in events. Minutes pass between Hannah finding the weapon and being attacked by her own mind, forcing her to repeatedly beg for forgiveness.
(Hannah*) You will be like them and think like them, because every part makes up God. The same God who can do anything, because, every billions of iterations a statistical error appears that I can only define as a miracle. Move an electron, disintegrate a particle, vary the speed of an object by 0.000001% and even…
(Hannah) Oh, lord. Forgive me. Forgive me. Lord, forgive me. I will do terrible things in your name… I can't. I can't!
(Hannah*) This is the infinite power you sought. It works infinitely to strike any fool with lightning, moves atom by atom to part a sea in your name, or assembles your perfect offspring in some mother's womb. It is entirely up to you, as long as you can bear it, unlike everyone else…
>The Hannah in appearance approached her kneeling self on the ground before her divine weapon. No matter how much time passed from when she got her weapon until she fought with you, her crying and lamentations are heard the same both upon obtaining her ultimate weapon, and after eliminating Sally and repenting in mortification. It was after Hannah explained to you the application of miracles on this plane that she also knelt down to the level of her other self and showing an expression more distinct than the inexpressiveness that characterizes her, Hannah brought one of her fingers to wipe away the tears of her younger counterpart herself. She held the drop of water for a second in her hands, so that to an instant viewer it must have looked like a bit of dew remaining levitating from Hannah's actions, until finally Trinitarian Hannah closed her fingers and simply disintegrated the small concentration of water forever. In the way she explained it, miracles like those in Abrahamic myths, as well as the most recent ones achieved by Hannah, must be an application of infinite steps one after another measured over hundreds and millions of people to coincide in the probabilistic error of an action. It is absurd, typical of an absurd power that has no limits but mental resilience itself. As a being of infinite life you could be compatible with the nature of this place, occupying everything, at all times, without realizing the changes only after visiting other eternities and changing your mind based on the experiences of others.

>>1488 →
>But no matter how the Trinity Hannah makes it seem, orchestrating a miracle for you is just as likely as expecting Batenkaitos to seek mental help or Bagoriceny to stop killing innocent animals based on their appearance—simply impossible. She makes sure to emphasize this once again, stressing the overwhelming boredom you started to feel after watching Hannah do a lot of nothing for a long time.
(Hannah*) But you won't be able to do it. You won't be able to do anything. I've spent millions, and millions, and millions of eternities witnessing other lives. You need an iron will to achieve something like that—an divine will. (...) Listen, right now I'm a Hannah with 824 years of memories. Why? That sword doesn't just cut the past or future by chasing your target's projection across ridiculously distant positions—it also affects the memories of its wielder the moment you start swinging it. I can project an innocent Hannah whenever I want, just as easily as I can project a Hannah who's lived decillions of years mechanically performing her duties. She only needs to hold the sword in her hands, and I—I—and I, I and only I will take care of the rest.
>It was the Trinity Hannah herself who chose to reveal her true nature, after they'd jumped for the sixteenth time into the moment when Olivia calls out to Hannah, only for Hannah to completely ignore her. The real-looking Hannah continues explaining about the sword that suddenly appeared in Hannah's hands, pointing at it, assigning it properties equally absurd yet effectively applicable in reality. Finally, you're shown the mechanism behind Hannah's instability in combat, the reason why in none of her memories or experiences did she ever firmly grip the sword, but instead let it float mere centimeters or millimeters away from her hand. The Hannah standing before you decides when to switch places within the mind of the Hannah facing Olivia, and precisely when it's best to do so in order not to excessively alter the future or past based on her memories. After all, she is the sword's bearer—only she can fully touch it and use its power to cut memories. As for you, you've never had the chance to snatch the weapon away and deprive her of her powers or the decisions she made ahead of time. She approached you, close enough that you could feel her cloak brush against your clothes, turning invulnerability and intangibility back into nothing. And when she did, she displayed an attitude different from her usual impassiveness—whether in reality or in the observational plane.
(Hannah*) Sacrificing my mind eternally, erasing my memories one by one, whenever fate decides. If it means ensuring a demon like you never involves itself with a human again, it's a price worth paying. Sally's death was inevitable.
>She acts with arrogance when she has to reveal the full extent of her plan—one she has followed both in the past and in the future, systematically replacing herself to achieve her confrontation with you. The Hannah standing before you is precisely why, no matter what, Sally was certain she would die, regardless of whether she had ever known Hannah until the moment it happened. Again, they return from the Vatican to the interior of the hospital, taking a position outside the room where events unfold, yet still able to hear Sally's and Mercy's voices behind the door arguing over the wound you caused. The impeccably dressed Hannah who confronted you paces back and forth as she prepares to enter the room once more, precisely at the moment events unfold, only to point at the sword that will flawlessly emerge from Sally's body in an instant. She gives you the answer to the failed contract you attempted long ago—because she is their God in this human world, not the entire world, and she is herself both in the past and in the future, if you can align with the moment her memories are rewritten. Apparently, this Hannah, before her counterpart murdered Sally, tries to warn you about whether or not you can use the shortcut of prayers integrated into this observation plane's deep and indecipherable matrix. Finishing her gesture toward the sword, Hannah Trinitaria attempts to vanish, becoming increasingly transparent,
(Sally) (...) But, I trust that everything will be alright.
(Hannah) Keep that attitude until the end.
(Hannah*) I know your exit from this place is predetermined. I created this sword. I am the connection between God, my sword, and myself. But you cannot break me—because after this, Hannah Cade Andronicus will never again direct a prayer to God.

>>3357 →
>Seeing Monica laugh in that clumsy way and then declare herself human with all those strange immunities leaves me in a second of silence.

— (Inflammable but harmless? Immune to magic and also to people of color? This is very strange, her behavior is too innocent… or too artificial. Is she really what she says she is?)

— I understand… Monica. You don't seem like a threat. Just… be more careful next time with the kitchen

>I respond with a calm voice, trying to sound reassuring.
>Suddenly the cookies turn into that fire monster and it starts to laugh and threaten. I instinctively take a step back and raise my weapon pointing at the entity.

— (What...? This has gone from strange to dangerous) Watch out!

>I shout more to alert the others than for anything else.
>When I hear Grok's voice from outside warning about the trees falling I feel a chill. I turn my head for a moment towards the entrance.

— (Now something is coming from the forest? A beast? We can't split up like this… but we can't ignore this either) Grok! Keep your position outside! There's a fire monster inside here!

>I look again at Monica and then at the fire monster, tightening my grip on my weapon.

— Sir Eshrec, take Pipino out of here if necessary. Monica… if you're Inflammable, maybe you can step back. I'll take care of this

>I take a step forward, trying to keep my voice firm despite the nerves.

— You! Lord of Fire… Are you really going to attack over burned cookies? If you want revenge, at least explain yourself before launching flames everywhere.

>I prepare to attack or dodge, feeling my heart pounding fast but trying to keep my mind as clear as possible.

— (This doesn't look good… between the monster inside and whatever is coming from the forest… we're going to have to act quickly)

>I try to focus and use the luminiscence spell to get more information on what's approaching. I also use the freeze spell to test the fire monster first before attacking head-on.

Luminiscence: 1d100 = 93
Congelar: 1d100 = 90

>>3359 →
You saw water dripping from María's forehead, and if you looked closely, her face had a tomato-like complexion. She didn't confirm it, but didn't deny either that one of her possible intentions was to keep an eye on her teacher, and your curiosity about the proportions of her flesh masses was merely the final blow that made the poor girl look away for a moment. She fixed her eyes on the wall to one side, then shifted her gaze to a bookshelf on the other, back and forth, until she brought her doll close to her ear and suddenly lowered her face. Now Punpun was in front of you, shaking his head, then bowing it so you'd pet him—but it only lasted a few seconds. Once the girl recovered, she had no awareness of what had just happened, dismissed it, and kept explaining.

(...)

After revealing your logic, you've noticed several things: María's shining eyes and radiant smile didn't fade even when you emphasized how terrible her teacher was at preserving clues. She didn't react at all when you lifted her, merely pointing her index finger to the left—the direction you should follow to reach Belladanza.

Your singing echoed throughout Céfiro. Who cares if you risk slipping on puddles or catching a cold from the harsh rain? It's worth it! Your goal of registering the largest breasts in the kingdom is an achievement you must savor before anyone else. Not even María's almost negligible weight could slow you down—you're very strong... or perhaps the girl is just extremely light. The good thing is, there's nobody on the streets. Most likely, passersby have returned home or are sheltered under the roofs of nearby shops, so you can rest assured you won't bump into anyone.

After nearly a minute, María finally shows a gesture—by which I mean she merely blinked—one that, had it happened earlier, wouldn't have left the girl teary-eyed now.

(María) That reminds me of those ancient, fascinating stories based on a world before the Axis! We used to read them in...! Punpun?
(Punpun) ...
(María) Whaaat?! Don't be like that, Punpun! (...) Don't listen to him, Eärendyl—I suspect those same policemen too! One of them called me crazy when I offered to help with the case. Wait, didn't I say something else?
Ignoring the crazy lady who was slow to respond, you could see in the distance an abnormal giant blocking the path—there was no other way to go. A bit closer to you was a car, one with flashing red and blue lights on top that might've been about to Eärendyl you, but luckily, it was motionless.

? | Anchor SUCCESS

Your legs were rebelling against you, refusing to obey, not to mention your arms, fingers, neck... you could barely breathe or keep holding the girl, though the latter was starting to hurt from staying in the same position.

(María) W-We didn't steal anything!
(?) You committed a crime... and it was stealing my heart~!

Dark hair, golden eyes, and a uniform dominated by sea-colored tones. She had gotten out of the car way too cheerful, her gaze locked onto the girl. Bouncing closer and closer with little jumps, her final leap came with arms wide open toward María, who was now at the mercy of the police—they'd taken her from you, at least Punpun didn't fall off your shoulder.

To the woman, it was as if you didn't exist. You could see the crazy lady being used like a stuffed teddy bear.

(María) Let go of me!
(?) I saw you helping Professor Risa in several cases! In the newspapers you look so serious... but up close you're so sweet~!
(María) Waaah!

Someone else got out of the car—a young man wearing almost the same outfit, brown eyes, and hair just as dark as the woman's, though for some reason longer than hers. He pulled the officer—and María—back toward the car.

(?) Aww... Marco, don't be like that.
(Marco) You nearly got sued last time because of this, boss. Let her go, poor thing, she's all soaked.
(María) I'm not some poor thing! I'm María José VII!
(Marco) Huh... who?
(María) Ma-rí-a Jo-Sé Sép-ti-ma!
(Chief) She's Risa's student, I've missed her so much! Haven't seen her in the news for weeks... Oh, did you get sick?
(María) They won't let me do anything!
(Marco) Ah right, the kid who stands out at that academy.
(María) Not a kid! De-tec-ti-ve! Even Punpun knows that!
(Chief and Marco) Punpun?

You had faded into the background, alone, standing in the rain instead of inside the warm car. At least you weren't completely ignored—the giant was the only one who hadn't stopped staring at you since the woman started causing a scene. He didn't seem able to speak, nor showed any sign of moving. Meanwhile, you were finally free.

(Marco) Hey! You! Are you friends with this little girl!? Come here!

And at last, someone normal noticed you.

>>3350 →
>>3354 →

(((Man Without A Name)))

>We weren't especially nutritious, it was just a sport. What good times.

The world is for the strong and the weak must obey, like the wind and the grass, when the wind blows the wind bends before it

>I briefly explain his view of the world, obviously he considers himself a "strong man" because he is free, he does what he wants, sleeps with whom he wants and doesn't answer to anyone, he is, in the end, a truly free man but a slave to his own impulses and human instincts

>He couldn't continue explaining his viewpoint because the poncho fell off his body leaving him in just underwear... what humiliation, now everyone knows that the proud, self-confident strong cowboy is just meat, although little or nothing may matter to him that people see his prominent bulge between his legs; it's not that he's exhibitionist but simply that he doesn't care how people see him, even he might see it as an opportunity, maybe a pretty monkey could like his corpulent, hairy and smelly body with cigar and powder

>And I who only wanted to make some friends with whom to share my secrets about the magic of other worlds.

Hey boy, wait a moment, it was just a joke a while ago, come please

>Blondie bent down to pick up his poncho and hat from the ground, put on the poncho while Option approached him and rolled in the dirty, dusty fabric, took off the dangling cigarette from his lip and handed it to the dark glasses guy in his hand

throw that away please, you can go now

>https://youtu.be/c8NqYibMeow?si=Up_bbhqD2gulTOm3&t=124▾

>They are led to a beautiful, huge and precious dining room, the music of that place could only be compared to the one you've already heard in the movies that play in the bars, those movies that mock the pomp and excesses of the elite that takes advantage of the humble and honest workers that Rubio constantly cheats, he couldn't care less, thief is a thief

>He also couldn't care about the gourmet food, yes, he saw how Rose ate the food properly and could follow her steps but again he didn't care how people saw him. While that fat slut was talking he took out a cigar from his poncho, yes, one of those handsome and delicious ones exported from Cuba that he kept for special occasions, he brought it to his lips and called fire with the tip of his finger and lit it, exhaled a cloud of smoke directly to the ceiling. He also didn't stop at smoking in that beautiful place, he grabbed a spoon and with that same one he ate loudly and spoonful by spoonful the slices of banana

>Don't forget to respond to the survey that has been left at each table.

>He looked at the survey, the one about the government system seemed strange to him, usually he would say that a capitalist anarchic free market but for strange that it may seem it wasn't there, so he went to the option that seemed most appropriate to him: the one of the law of the strongest

>Although something that he didn't like was the wanwanwanesa trying to mentally control her little Rose

>>3354 →

>Rubio hit the exhibitionist on the butt and also gave her a delicious good squeeze of the right butt, he leaned his lips close to her ear, the stench of alcohol, tobacco and unbrushed teeth haunted her delicate nasal passages

Sweetheart, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mentally control my wife, there shouldn't be discord among my women

>He let go of his wide backside before smoking more of his cigar

>>2796 →
>you draw your blade, in your hands it becomes a flash that reaches its targets before gravity even gains a nanometer of advantage on you
>the fruits don't know they were hit, the gleam of the blade illuminates the mountaintop like a star-shaped lighthouse, which disappears the next instant.
>you lower your weapon, and the attack squad is soon reduced to tiny cubes ready to be served, the bomb flew free, as the only remaining threat, and with decision, you do a backward jump with your leg extended to take care of it
>your body does an ascending crescent kick, your instep launches like lightning onto the lightning rod and connects.
>but something goes wrong...
>at the slightest contact, the bomb cracks, releasing beams of light like a disco ball, and then it explodes with the blinding brightness of the sun.
>since you are a robot, there is no immediate pain, but your indicators understand the violent pressure increase that pushes you powerfully against the ground, embedding you in the rock as if you were making snow angels
>your kick resulted in a shot to the foot. Once the light stops blinding you, you discover that your attempts to avoid the gunpowder have left you covered in soot.
"Hehehe..."
>a laugh. Perhaps mocking, weak, and filtered through old age, breaks the peace of the valley
Sensei: ohh, Lobelto-san... Don't you remember? You shouldn't hit the bombs
>it was the sensei himself, the first fruit ninja
Sensei: you're still a little green... but your skill with the sword is unmistakable... Cleo... That you are ready...
>then, the sensei turns his back to you
Sensei: follow me please
>the sensei walked, and guided you through the city that had a fruit theme and stuff, until you reached the town hall, the origin of all evil, of control, of the Great Fruither, Big Brother
Sensei: it's your moment young Fruit Ninja™... Are you ready to face the fruits and liberate the world?
>wow, that was fast, as if the OP hadn't really thought anyone would send a piece to this, would you go face your destiny in the epic final battle? Or perhaps, you'd prefer to explore the city and waste time, because we like Dracula surfing

>>2794 →
>>2795 →
With an anon I'm enough, if Roberto dies laughing they can take his place kek

>>2798 →
>Shadab
jejeje bueno

Placid Sunday, just another morning. Her white sheet shimmered under golden rays, outlining the silhouette of the body she'd finally discovered last night. Her dreams—forgotten now—had been adorned by a vague sensation that allowed her to savor love as art. Things she experiences up close yet somehow elude her.

She wakes with the slowness the sun, so patient, grants her through caresses on her face. Her eyes open fully without delay; she slept well. The intense experience gifted her a pleasant lethargy. She gets up, resisting the urge to raise the blinds and let her eyes greet the landscape because she's naked.

"No one else is supposed to see this," her body seems to say, as she spins playfully toward the dresser.

She begins to dress. She has a big day ahead, and she'll live it beautifully. Rummaging through her clothes, she decides to embrace style—puts on navy blue high-waisted flared pants with a red belt, pairing them with a green tea-colored shirt with a pointed collar. She searches for a blazer too... only has one, floral.

"I love it."

She puts it on and looks in the mirror. She looks neutral... then dares to unbutton several buttons, exposing cleavage. The idea embarrasses her, but also liberates her. She smiles. Fixes her short hair... and now, finally, raises the blinds and opens the window...

The outside seems brighter than yesterday. Days in Steppenford are always a landscape. She loves the sun, adores it, can inhale the scent of morning. And release a sigh of satisfaction. Things were going to change, somehow.

"All future time is better."

That's what she believes. She turns from the window. Passes the painting with just a glance. She'll return to it later, with far more energy. Opens the door, and heads down for breakfast.

She passes through the kitchen, as lively as ever. Celia hums a sweet tune stuck in her head after passing once through a store playing music—a melody from another world, from an album with a beautiful blonde woman gazing at the sky. Life on Mars from Hunky Dory, by David Bowie

"Good morning, Mom!"

She exclaims, wanting to be seen.

>Celia
"Good morning, my li—"

She sees sternum, a little chest. Doesn't matter that they aren't mountains—she sees skin. Like how those crazy girls dress without a bra, that supposed new fashion trend making women clutch their chests.

"My God!"

Abby had already walked past by then, heading straight to the table where her father sat with a coffee cup, today's newspaper, waiting for the eggs and bacon that already smelled delicious.
>Abby
"Dad!" -she felt daring, she wanted to show her rebelliousness-

>Thomas
"Good morning, Abby."

He replied dryly, without taking his eyes off the newspaper. He was still thinking.

>Abby
"Daaad." -she doesn't give up- "What are you reading?"

>Thomas
"The newspaper."

>Abby
"Ahem..."

Celia comes out from behind, peeking nervously from the kitchen. She doesn't know what to say, she knows she should intervene, but at the same time, sticking her nose in would make them see Abby... like this.

"Look at me!"

Another sigh escaped the man. He lowered the newspaper, and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw his daughter with her breasts almost bare, like a harlot, smiling like an idiot while her hands separated from her body with palms wide open. As if saying 'this is me'.

>Thomas
"Abigail." -he said as he stood up- "Button that up and go put on a bra this instant!"

>Abby
"Huh?! But Dad-"

>Thomas
"SILENCE!" -Abby flinched slightly- "I won't let any daughter of mine dress like a... A... Whore." -he said, pointing-

>Abby
"..." -her eyes widened for a second- "..." -silence, she put on a normal face-

>Thomas
"..." -he breathed-

Abby lowered her gaze but not her defenses, she buttoned her shirt up to her neck, and went upstairs without saying anything. She had a lot to say, she thought, but nothing came out. She left, observed by Celia on her way, who looked at her with a sad face. Thomas slowly returned to his seat, the weight of his own words seemed to leave him not knowing where to look either. He took refuge in Celia's face, but she looked somewhat sad.

"..."

Better, he looked at the newspaper.

...

>Abby
"Is all I've done just being a whore?" -she asked the mirror as she put on her bra- "Is loving, perhaps, the conduct of a whore...?" -it hurt her to be pigeonholed with that word, maybe she would have been indifferent, but she felt that an insult from Dad hurt much more- "Woe is me... Father, why have you turned this beautiful morning into a tragedy?"

She felt like crying. She didn't, she didn't want to start the great day like this. She put on the same clothes, now with the shapes approved by her dad, and went downstairs again. She served herself some cereal, Mom had already served food to the rest. They were all seated, in a strange silence. Abigail ate with her head down, without any witty remarks. In silence.

(The silence is heavy.)

She was doing it on purpose, she wanted the silence to weigh more than anything else. Thomas couldn't help but glance at her from time to time, he didn't understand her. She looked melancholic, with downcast eyes and lips set in a calculated seriousness. And, ironically, the most uncomfortable one turned out to be Celia.
>Celia
"...Don't you want me to cook you something, sweetie? Are you really just having cereal?"

>Abby
(Nothing. Just cereal.)

She thinks it, doesn't want to speak.

>Thomas
"Answer your mother." –he commands–

>Celia
"C-carrie..."

>Abby
"..." –pauses mid-spoonful– "...no, nothing."

>Celia
sigh "You're sure?"

>Abby
"Nothing." –repeats, choosing the most uncomfortable word possible–

>Celia
"Hm..."

>Thomas
"Ja... Your loss." –they don't even look– "Eggs and bacon are the best." –Abby finishes the bite– "You don't even know how to eat something good." –Abby chews– "..." –mumbles–

>Celia
"Jaja..." –fakes a laugh at Thomas's comment to lighten the mood– "ehm... Dad." –tries to change the subject– "Did you watch anything interesting on TV last night...?"

And so they pass another while in nothingness. Until Thomas finally lets some of his resentment fade.

>Thomas
"Uh... don't you wanna go to Simulatron or...?"

>Celia
"Oh, great idea!" –exclaims, genuinely cheerful–

>Abby
"Nah..." –this time, genuine–

>Celia
"Oh..." –feels like she's been slapped down–

>Thomas
"What, no?"

Celia
"Who could it be?" –gets up, unwilling to miss a chance to get scammed, though she might score a new vacuum cleaner–

Celia/Thomas
"Oh!" / "What?" –one is surprised, the other also, but less pleasantly. Abby bolts down and runs to the door at the cry of 'I'll get it!'

Abigail stopped short before the wall stopped hiding her, then stepped out with a balletic lateral leap, full of grace, ending with hands at her sides as she finally saw who stood at the end of the hall.

"¡!" –a hesitation, like a choked guttural sound. A glottal stop. She straightened up and composed herself, flashing a smile at her grandmother for an instant before turning back to her teacher–

<Good morning, Abby.

"Good morning..."

Her words were like watercolors, activating a tone drenched in sighs, watered down by love. She runs a hand through her hair, adjusting it slightly without dropping the smile.

<I brought this. You left it at school yesterday, and I don't blame you, with everything that happened…

"Oh... Right. The morning was a Greek tragedy... But the ending was... hopeful."

(Tell him to just leave it there...)

She thought, since they lived in an area where they could easily leave the door open. That's what Abigail believed. But even if she didn't know, she walked down, with a better idea. She reached out and went for the doorknob, accidentally brushing Robin's hand

"Sorry..."
She was seeking contact. Her hand holds the bicycle. The closeness excites her, yet she prefers to step back a little—safe distance to talk to a police officer without interference (3 meters)—giving her hero a pleased glance.

"Thank you so much... You're very thoughtful. Quite the gentleman." -she flatters as much as she can-

<And I'm sorry.

"Huh?" -she's surprised- "And why on earth should you be sorry?" -alarm fills her, had she been deceived perhaps? Her world wobbles-

<I had to check your files to find out where you live.

Abby sighed at the privacy violation as if a truck’s weight had lifted from her shoulders. She now knows Robin is aware of her dust mite allergy, her home phone number, and of course, her address. Basic things in a relationship.

<I thought about going door to door asking, but I always get lost in the suburbs, everything looks so... similar.

"I understand." -she said, raising her gaze, with a silly smile that won't fade- "Monotony can be disorienting, confusing, and in a painting, almost dull." -almost, because while it would limit your creativity to repetition, redoing the same thing multiple times has its charm- "Don't apologize for that. Really. It's a very sweet gesture. That you went through the trouble... Shouldn't I be the one apologizing, perhaps? I'd ask Minerva right now."

She consulted the man because heaven and Rome were too far away. She's glad Robin knows where she lives. And from this situation, only one thing slightly saddens her: not knowing where he lives. So slightly, though, that it doesn't bother her, because she knows that if she keeps walking through the tunnel, in the end they'll be together and share everything. They're connected, they just need to move forward.

<Why don't you come in and talk more comfortably?

Abby's lips form a delicate circle from surprise, mirroring her teacher's. But she relaxes more quickly, breaking into a broad, almost mischievous smile as the grandmother invites him inside.

(I love you, grandma...)

<Don't even mention it! Abby, tell your mother to set another place at the table.

"Right away." -she turns with the bike, then glances over her shoulder- "Mom told me to ask for whatever you'd like for breakfast~ I'll get you a great breakfast." -she winks at him-

She walks. Crosses the doorway, turns once more.

"Sorry, I know clarifying this feels anticlimactic after what I just said. But I think I haven't made it clear enough: I want you to come in now. I don't like ambiguous scripts." -she lets out a little laugh, waiting for him to enter the house-

2/3
Keksito, this feels strangely politicized

a small conversation arose among parents seeing the fervor with which the girl rushed to answer the door. and it was already reaching its end, and of course, drawing conclusions.

>Celia
"maybe she was waiting for someone... special." -she admits it; her girl is growing up-

>Thomas
"she never told me anything about that." -he's less accepting-

and then, the little one enters the scene. walking with an entirely different air than when she left, intoxicated by a love that makes her smile, raise her finger, and speak with more sweetness than sugar.

>Celia
"abby!" -she calls out; thomas just stares, subjecting her to jealous scrutiny-

>Abby
"mother, please, make a little more room in the flavor of the morning! a chair, a plate, and serve your finest breakfast dish... for excess."

>Celia
"ah, yes my queen." -she gets up- "are you going to eat?"

>Abby
"it's for a guest, truth be told. the lie discarded." -she asked robin to wait before introducing him; she'd call him in as soon as she was done; thomas was already frowning-

>Celia
"oh!" -she's a bit delighted, feeling she was right... her daughter has fallen in love- "and who is it?" -she asks to see him-

>Abby
-looks behind her- "dear professor robin, please, come forward~"

and so, he steps forward into the spotlight. his presence shocks everyone in the room; celia's eyes fly open, horrified for a second; thomas crushes the newspaper as if witnessing a crime. robin, with his androgynous beauty that abby adores, was not without controversy in a conservative household.

>Celia
"i'll go cook."

she steps away. not knowing what to think, it takes her a second even to look properly and understand that her daughter isn't some sick deviant drawn to this long-haired man's delicate features. she must sort her thoughts; she'll make a grand breakfast for him... but she needs every second in the kitchen to recompose herself.

>Abby
"see? mother will make a breakfast beyond delicious—you can believe it. i'm as delicate with food as i am with painting. please, follow me." -she invites him to sit, leading him by the wrist, pours him some orange juice, and sits beside him-

thomas glares murder at the other man. struggling so his quick-trigger side doesn't make him draw immediately. abby gazes up at the professor with the same eyes she uses to admire art. and it enrages him. he doesn't know whether he's more upset by how the guy looks or by how his daughter looks at him—but it doesn't matter.

"well... i couldn't introduce you to mom. but... this is my grandpa josh." -points with her hand- "and how venerable he is. i respect him, even if he's from another era." -leans in to whisper- "but he doesn't want me to help him with that oatmeal he struggles to bring to his mouth. jiji"

>Thomas
"abigail!" -he scolds her for the closeness; she returns to her seat somewhat reluctantly, looks at her dad with mild discomfort, but decides to smile; the moment with robin is a balm for everything else-

>Abby
"he's my father, thomas. dad is a... ahem. agent."

>Thomas
"police."

>Abby
"ah. that's right. but he's one of the groovies, isn't he?"

>Thomas
"what was your name again?" -he asks the professor-
Robin!

"And what exactly did you come here for...?"

>Abby
"He brought me my bicycle. And later, we're going to the Simulatron together." —she just made that up—

>Thomas
"What?!?" —that catches him off guard, anger replaced by pure confusion and surprise at such a revelation—

Celia returns a little while later. She refills everyone's orange juice if it's gone below half. And she places before Robin a gorgeous plate: two eggs with runny yolks, pancakes topped with melted butter drenched in maple syrup, two large strips of bacon, and a large toast cut diagonally in half so it looks like two.

>Abby
"Thank you so much, Mom." —she's cheerful—

After that, she sits back down, with a somewhat nervous smile, yet more accepting.

>Celia
"Sorry for the wait... Did I miss anything?"

>Thomas
"Nothing..." —still staring at the guy— "hey. And you... 'Robin', right...?" —says the name with a mocking tone— "why the fuck don't you cut those filthy greasy locks like a real man?" —Abby is already frowning— "You're not one of those dirty queers, are you?"

>Celia
"Dear..." —gets tense—

>Abby
"I assure you he's not!" —raises a finger— "Professor Robin is... very masculine..." —her other hand wanders, and somehow reaches her professor's knee, gently caressing it, then his thigh—

>Thomas
"Oh yeah? Doesn't look like it to me. You know being a faggot is illegal, right?" I suppose back then it was illegal in nearly every state. Unless Steppenford happens to be one of the 4 states that had just legalized it, which would fuck up this dialogue lol "Don't wanna spend two years in a cell. Or do you? I've heard queers have a rough time in there—"

>Abby
"Dad!" —stops touching Robin abruptly—

>Thomas
"What? I was just asking."

>Abby
"You're embarrassing me... Professor Robin is..." —touches her heart, blushing— "special... to me..."

>Celia
"!!"

>Thomas
"..." —takes a deep breath, suddenly stands up— "I gotta go to work."

>Celia
"Dear—" —stands up too, but he was already gone. Celia sighs; there was nothing to do when he got like this... she sits back down—

>Abby
sigh of ugh what a drag "sorry about him... I'm afraid in the end, he's just another one of those cops..." —eyes closed, indignant—

>Celia
sad sigh "Abby..." —this girl...—

>Abby
"Anyway... Robin, this is my mom. Celia."

>Celia
"Pleasure to meet you..." —despite everything— "Abby really enjoys painting... I suppose that's something you taught her." —she says "painting"— "uh... thank you for that."

Abby always felt she had the talent, but she wouldn't discredit Robin's help.

"And..." —just making conversation— "what... ahem..." —wanted to ask what his intentions were with her daughter, but that didn't seem like the best word— "what kind of connection do you two have?"

Abby tenses up. That was a question she was extremely interested in. Meanwhile, some oatmeal spills onto Celia's blouse.

"Oh Dad... seriously, don't you want a little help with that...?"

3/3
Now I can finally rest in peace.
Thanks so much Steppenfoooord sorry for so little

>>2780 →
<David Stanford (Time: Indeterminate. Date: March, year 1973)
HP: 100/100
Energy: 50/50
Hunger: 20/20 - Thirst: 20/20
-Strength: 3
-Agility: 3
-Stamina: 3
-Luck: 2
Inventory
-Secret pockets 2/6
Truck keys
x17 Dollars
Spells:
-Eye of Resonance (Reads the soul imprint of beings like yourself. -2 energy per minute)
Techniques:
-Demonic Suction: Renders enemy unconscious for 6 hours. Enemy must be in a state of suggestion or weakness to succeed (Does not work on creatures too large)

Stepford
Static cuts the screen, a storm of snow encapsulated. Abe removes the semi-transparent panel and smacks the television. The image clears, but instead of showing two pixels of light, it displays a strange music video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kjxSCAalsBE▾
You feel a tingling in your perineum. Something in the ether has changed. Maybe it's a message from the lower astral—omen of future blessing or warning of ill fortune?

Abe takes off his cap to scratch his scalp, theorizing the antenna picked up a signal from some other house. Unlike you, he's a skeptic of magic, but no science book or conspiranoia could prepare him when the window explodes from an impact, and a dark-winged bird of prey bounces and flaps against the wooden floor, then stands up and starts pecking at the glass.

Hands on the wheel, eyes on the dirt road, you can't stop thinking about what happened at your parents' house. Julia said it was a crow, but you're certain it was a Yata-Garasu. To make things worse, a pimple popped up on your nose—another sign?

Abe: O-over there.

You turn into the woods only for the truck, with a jolt, to end up tilted and sinking into a path with deceptive firmness, swallowing it like quicksand. Annabel Lee, the porcelain doll, lifts her gaze from the book on her tiny legs and points forward with her little white hand to say:

Insanity.

Among the shadows of clustered trees, you spot a scarlet egg pulsing like a heart. Abe says it wasn't there before. You try to reverse, but the truck sinks deeper, and you shift your gaze from the egg to the ground, where red grass—actually tendrils—waves, welcoming you. Abe opens the door, but Annabel Lee warns them they must not step onto the Havester's trap.

Abe crawls to the back seats, lifts a boot, and kicks out the rear window. They move to the cargo area and from there make the best leap possible to escape the egg's zone of influence. You know they've succeeded when the earth doesn't devour them.
During your frantic escape, you left the Melanicus and other belongings behind. As you glance back with Annabel Lee under your arm, you watch the vehicle sink and vanish beneath the ground. The last thing you see is the license plate. The egg remains waiting beyond, among the slender tree trunks, patient.

What evil will hatch?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rc-PocF6-9o▾
At the end of March, Abe and you stole a new pickup truck to escape the pandemonium. Amid screams and burning houses, hands reached out trying to stop you, leaving bloody trails across cracked windows—but you never stopped accelerating. On every one of those manic faces chasing you, the mark of a raw, bleeding cross was visible.

Abe, upright in the passenger seat, without his cap or mask, his eyes heavy with dark circles fixed on the road, begins reciting without stumbling:
And thus they recognized the presence of the Red Death.
It had come like a thief in the night.
And one by one the guests fell in the blood-stained orgy halls,
each dying in the desperate posture of their fall.
And the life of the ebony clock died with the last of those joyous beings.
And the flames of the tripods expired.
And darkness, and decay, and the Red Death ruled over all.

The forest pulls you away from the chaos. You drive to a distant cliff from where you can glimpse the town. From within the smoke rises a giant, its hollow head touching the clouds, its tentacles waving shadows capable of stretching across all of Stepford. Abe touches your shoulder to get your attention, then points at the horizon with a trembling finger.

Abe: T-t-the f-f-four h-h-horsemen of the f-f-f-finish.

Black helicopters approach and circle the city, swirling like swarming flies above a fresh corpse. You suspected there were more than four, but just as you were counting, a blinding electric flash blinds you.

The outline of the dome is visible for only a few seconds before it shields itself through transference. The torso separates from the giant, dropping chunks of flesh, but instead of collapsing, it uses its tentacles to lift itself and carefully descend from the dome, while its cyclopean legs remain still and upright inside the dome.

As your mind struggles to process what you’ve seen, several questions come to you:

What will you do with your life? How will you live? Will you tell others what you saw in Stepford?

...

I know it's a bit late. But anon's reply to Abby inspired me to give both of them an epilogue.

>>2541 →
>Lev
"¿The only thing you can do?"

"..."

"Breaking things is very easy. Repairing... 'ehh', not so much"

"It has quite a value, don't despise that sacred gift"

What I meant by that, who knows. But after saying goodbye and leaving that Jesu' monastery, I walk a few steps along the lonely streets, until I notice how the sun rises on the horizon.

"Good morning"

I say with a smile while I cover my face a bit with my hand, so I can see without the sun blinding me. It should have been like 5 or 6 in the morning, and I was quite tired, so I was just walking to my temple, my home, my... home. It was a productive day, although tomorrow (today) I would have to start to... do that. Slowly I arrive at that abandoned shack, an old bus stop covered in rust, in an area where there was no longer a street, just grassy fields up to my chest, and my presence. I lie down on the bench, and I just look at the rusted tin roof while time passes... I want to scratch my hand, but I don't do it, for now.

>>2542 →
Sleeping outdoors is especially dangerous on cold days like these, and with how poorly protected your shelter is from the elements, you might as well be sleeping outside. Fortunately or by miracle, it seems like it hasn't rained or snowed during the time you've been resting, since you wake up, alive and relatively dry, at some indeterminate time in the afternoon, you can assume.

<Someone: Good afternoon.

Someone's voice confirms your assumptions, or to be more precise, not the voice of someone random, but the unmistakable voice of someone you know and who you know has trouble pronouncing certain esses.

<Someone: An empanada?

He offers you the already cold dough with a bare hand, without a plate or napkin due to lack of resources. This is something he often does, since he, like you, lacks the means to refrigerate or preserve food for long periods. Usually he trades it or shares it with whoever gives him something of use or at least thanks.

<Someone: Of meat, it's the last one I have left.

The rusty cart he uses to carry his food and other goods isn't any cleaner than him, the few Tupperware containers he brings are also in poor condition due to the lack of water and soap to wash them frequently and the fact that he often mixes them up with his other clutter, as he's doing right now.

<Someone: The other one I traded for this... but...

After asking you to wait and search through his things for a while, he takes out two fruits.

<Someone: Pera. Do you want one?

He offers you one of the pears and keeps the other, covering the cart and his things with a somewhat cleaner sheet than the rest.

<Someone: I'm going to keep the seed and plant it outside of my box. When the tree grows, I'll eat pear all day.

He tells you with a smile of rotten teeth that doesn't do much to grace his unfortunate face.

<Someone: I can give you one too.

Despite his ugliness, intellectual deficiency, vagrancy, disease, and oddness, the people in the community see him as a kind person due to these customs of sharing what little he has with others without harboring ambitions to possess more. The people call him Angel, obviously because he has a name and isn't just called "Someone," although it's unclear if that's his real name or some nickname.

At times in the afternoon, he usually passes by these remote areas of the city to pick up whatever he finds discarded out of sight of the officials who would bother to enforce the law that prohibits people from rummaging through trash containers. You also know he lives under the bridge in the center near other homeless people, although you don't know exactly what conditions he lives in or what he does with the debris he collects, if anything besides just accumulating it.

The sentence is good, but it alone doesn't fill the stomach, and it's already late enough to take something to your mouth without it counting as breaking the fast, your body knows you need it. It's also late enough for the free soup to start being served behind the church, if you prefer a more complete meal.

>>2543 →
The night was tough, as cold as the touch of the moon, so beautiful and distinct, but shining without burning your retinas, in such celestial humility, allowing the mortal to contemplate its delicacy. But yes, towards cold, quite cold, maybe it wouldn't rain or snow, but the serenity of the night, froze the being accompanied by the winds of the hills.

My body was trembling, realizing I was sleeping. I've always had trouble with insomnia, but after "That", I've barely managed to blink. But the cold wasn't really what was disturbing my sleep this time, but rather thinking about the helpless one, who has no house, roof or luxury, sleeps under the cruel cold of the elements. That made me sad, and that made me tremble more than the cold.

When I wanted to remember, the sun had already risen and the sky was clear. I yawned and got up from that bench. I looked at myself in the broken mirror, poorly lit, and took a can of powdered milk, mixed it with water and heated it in my gas stove. With that, I threw some blocks of chocolate homemade, and stirred with a spoon while I looked at the landscape and listened to the birds singing. The good thing about getting up late is that you automatically fast, skipping directly to the snack and lunch.

"..?"

"Buenas tardes buen hombre"

Angels always appear at these moments. Despite what popular culture mentions, they don't shine physically, but shine in spirit, because they are so humble that when they come into the world of mortal offspring, they leave their halo in the closet. I see as he offers me a empanada, I smiled and accepted his charity, and in exchange I read fresh a cup with hot chocolate to warm up and give energy. Those who have the least are the ones who give the most, one of the many mysteries of this merciless world

"Many thanks, seriously"

"Take it, it's good"

"Be careful, it's still hot"

I take a sip of my hot chocolate, this warm and reanimates the tired soul, without leaving you alert and paranoid like cheap coffee. I wait while I take another sip until I see as he takes a pear. I observe, observe the fruit and give a friendly smile

"Oh, thanks thanks, but, I already have enough"

"Keep it for someone else who needs it more than me, or for you"

"But still I am infinitely grateful"

''I reject it politely, because I was already rich, and I didn't need more abundance. Then I hear as he tells me that magnificent idea of planting a pear tree, and eating pears every day.

"That... That is a beautiful idea. You are someone very intelligent"

"You will see how that tree will grow, and you will have fresh fruit"

"I know, wait a moment:."

I enter my house and look for a small glass jar with several seeds inside, and go outside to give it to him

"They are flower seeds, they grow fast and smell good. While you wait for the pear tree to grow, they will be your company''

With that I give him a friendly pat on the shoulder to continue his way, and I stay alone eating the empanada while I look at the horizon. I thank in my prayer, and I get up from the ground. I enter my house, grab a bit of water from my bucket and wash my face, then go out to walk and water the flowers behind my "house" with this water. I was going to the church because free food is free food. Also I wanted to see if someone needed my help because my hands are the only thing I can offer. Maybe I would ask the nun who serves food if they need help with something. Anything. Nail some planks, paint a wall, look for something, serve food.'

Ayy I reached the limit. New thread on Wednesday.

>>9706 →
Do we respond to turns here or in the other thread?

And I don't remember if I told you happy birthday this year, so happy birthday, late. May you have a thousand more, like leucosita.

>>9707 →
>Do we respond to the turns here or in the other thread?
Save it for the new thread. I'm making the introduction, it'll be from Uranocircita, half-way. I've had the image saved for a long time, but it's not Urano. It'll be weird because both the intro and the image of this thread were both from Dumor kek

>And I don't recall if I told you happy birthday this year, so happy birthday, late. May you have a thousand more, like leucosita.
Hey! And who is that leucosita anyway? As far as I know, I'm not in charge of a human body role with erythrocytes and leukocytes.
Thanks!

>>10222 →
I did not develop the habit of learning from my sisters or retaining what I learned...
>She had had more than two older sisters who were insecure or unexemplary in some way, in addition to little ability to learn certain things that she would not like to admit out loud at the risk of also sounding insecure or revealing her secrets.
>Similar reasons he had for not alerting Anatasa of the damage he seemed to do by touching her, in the end all that became easier to hide if he just waited a little.
Axinite was good. I liked it when it was just Axinite.
>Fluorite assimilations were still a complex topic even if I spent a thousand years thinking about it. Its complexity was more emotional than logical. He could understand why and how it happened, but not how he felt about it.
>She was sure she didn't hate Fluorite, just like she didn't hate Peridotite, Rutile, or humans, but she didn't feel much compassion for the old leader of the crystalline land even if she liked one of the gems she used to be.
>What I would understand by saving Axinite would be to separate her from Fluorite in some way, even if that would harm the second one.
You probably know how to fight more than I still do. It's been a long time since I touched a sword, I must have caught the attitude of the bark gems.
>He tried to inject some levity into the conversation with that comment, but from his tone it sounded like he was regretting a mistake of his. The strange reactions of Anatasa's bodies for wanting and not allowing herself to be with someone did not comfort her either.
I can understand it...
>Maybe it wasn't exactly the same, but he had felt that no matter how much he loved it, he couldn't have been happy doing those same things with Circita while still worrying about the well-being of the academy and his sisters.
>Anatasa's gaze was already lowered so she had no need to lower hers as well or control what her own face showed as she did.
>If he thought about the decision he made again, he asked himself again if he had done the right thing and how long it would take to continue like this.
If you are sure that you cannot be happy with her and save her at the same time and even knowing that you decide to do this... You must also be prepared to regret it later.
>He didn't find a gentler way to advise him without directly opposing his decision. Their situations seemed very different to begin with. Anatasa probably wouldn't have as much time to think about that decision or how things would have changed if she made a different one.
I don't like being here. I would like to finish what needs to be done and live those millennia somewhere else, but being impatient only makes things worse.
>Rosa and Rutilo were not weak for not being able to endure more years of the slow salvation plan, but no one could say that they ended well or lived happily. Although she doesn't yet know a better way to end the war between crust and surface, she knows that she won't succeed if she follows in the last footsteps of her predecessors.
>If she had enough hope, she could imagine that during that eternity new plans would emerge to save the Gems, like the one Anatasa had designed, although she was not completely happy with it.
>The result she wanted was a world free of conflict between gems and pyroclasts, in which her sisters could live as long as they wanted and new gems could be born and be happy too without further suffering on both sides. But he honestly didn't care enough about the future to regret not allowing it to young gems he would never meet, and if the atrocities Anatasa was prepared to commit, even the ones that reminded him of his older sister, were for the sake of everyone's salvation, then it qualified as necessary suffering.
>This solution was one step ahead of what Rutilo wanted and another step behind what she wanted, it was barely acceptable.
Maybe you are giving me more dreams and responsibilities than you think and making me promise things that will not be possible to fulfill. But I think you still carry a bigger weight doing this than I do helping you.>He smiled slightly, raising his head and the blunt sword that Gardan Siti had given him. The sudden partial loss of his face and hearing disturbed his balance and his ability to do what Anatasa asked for a second, so the blow he gave to his sister's arm with the weapon was less precise and forceful than he intended.
If you want me to be honest, I don't love this plan and neither do you.
>He responded to Anatasa's last comment with a bigger smile, rubbing the part of his face where the percentage of ash he wanted to caress was no longer there.
I've already committed enough atrocities that many won't want to see me live thousands of years and I may not be able to say anything to TaaffTaaff. I also have no strong desire to return to the academy or make amends for my teacher.
>Any blow he gave with the sword would be aimed at unimportant points on Anatasa, such as the arms in which he did not hold a weapon and would probably not need to break it, revealing the little intention he had of killing her quickly.
Rubz would be heartbroken if he saw me now, I don't want that. And if you care so much that Taaff doesn't know this, I imagine you also think he would hate this plan, or hate you.
>Holding a gun again was a temptation, it felt so good to be armed and moving again that it would be hard not to smile. For several years the most physical activity she did was the dances and stretches she repeated daily to stay agile and be able to fulfill her teacher's promise to become better at dodging so as not to lose even more parts of herself.
If she was here telling you not to do it, would you listen to her? How about I promise to tell him everything you plan to do after you do it? If it is still possible for you to repent, I want to make you recant.
>All that dodging training will be of no use to her as long as Anatasa remains still without threatening her, but she still maintains a light step and a certain distance from her sister, practically dancing meters in front of her to encourage her to attack.
It feels good to fight again. If you want me to break you at least we can enjoy it, like a workout. You remember how to fight, right?
>If he treated him as such it was not difficult at all to raise a weapon against his sister, even one in the state of Anatasa.
Despite everything, I am still a combat gem. I still love my sisters. I don't like to see other gems suffer and I wouldn't agree to stay in a safe place while my sister risks herself for me, I would rather be by your side and fight alongside you. I don't know TaaffTaaff as well as you, but if she's a combat gem like us, I know she wouldn't be happy with this.
>He put the sword aside and extended his free hand, inviting Anatasa to take it if she changed her mind.
I want you to help me and for us to fight together to save our sisters, like before... I want you to help me continue committing atrocities, to kidnap more gems and make them suffer to save humans for hundreds of years.
>Her voice, hand, and expression fell a little as she became more honest with what she asked of Anatasa. When his smile returned, it did so less forcefully.
It will be hard, just like your plan, but with your help it will be faster and more bearable. And I trust that when we finish, we will achieve something better for you and for all of us. But the only thing I can promise is that I will be on your side and I will continue to love you as long as you don't hate me.

17d100 = 819

>>10224 →
>>120785
(Anatasa) Do you want to continue with this for all eternity?
>She asked looking into your eyes. Anatasa's voice stopped wavering, completely losing its tremor only to question directly. Unlike the Subcortex or the Metacortex that maintains a range of human annihilation to generate light based on its vapors, in this underground level there is nothing like a group of humans always ready to be evaporated. The absence of pink vapor in the air can weaken you, just as much as natural daylight could strengthen you. Although her body has completely changed, it is a fact that Anatasa still needs light, and you can find it. These are crystals placed on the edges of the structures that remain partially firm. Anatasa drops her neck for a moment, at the same time that the surrounding light itself weakens. She insists.(Anatasa) Is it so important to you to stay alive? What awaits you in thousands of years, Leucosapphire...? I know it's been a long time... I know it's been too long! I've been stranded here for more years than I spent with you or Taaffeita up there. But anyway, I don't want her to have a meaningless life. Will you make it fight with pyroclasts until it completely deteriorates? And what about your sister? Dioptase will live in fear for thousands of years because of you.
>He presses the air with his hands. You can see small disturbances in the space after she exclaimed, as if she had actually made contact with said elements. Indeed, unlike on the surface, communication between gems in the crust is so delayed and ephemeral, so much so that it pales in comparison to the eternal companionship up there. And in fact, it is designed that way, all to mitigate the effects of raping gems and optimize the collection of them, their inclusions. Towards the end of the scheme, all the gems in the Crystalline Earth sooner or later end up captured, and those that are not, fall into unstable psychological states that fortify the value of the rest. As long as you keep your eyes off the island, gems like Dioptase could live and die affecting others, or live and degrade to compromise them in different ways. Anatasa would continue to question you, indirectly rejecting you until her words intensified. She claimed, as if pointing to a pyroclast in your place.
(Anatasa) I can't just accept that you continue this way. You used to be much stronger than me, happier, full of life. Why do you choose to condemn yourself and everyone around you? Does it give you peace of mind to be out of the threat of anyone seeing how others sacrifice themselves? You are a coward...! Liar, you make me nauseous! It's because of gems like you that this torture continues! Just like Fluorite… You have decided to wait for no solution. You can't love or hate deeply, you completely lost that ability.
>Small, thin strands of hair fell from the back of Anatasa's head as she yelled at you. They were followed by an emission of red vapor that condensed into a dark reddish fluid and was lost in the fluffy part of his clothing. For a moment you watched as Anatasa lowered her head, searching with her eyes for any weapon. Confused by that fact, with an advance on your part, her anger forcibly dissipated. She hugged herself, grabbing the edges of his neck in an x-shape as she backed away. Inadvertently, she compared you to Fluorite. Not the Fluorite that the gems timidly followed, but the Fluorite that humans and the gems of the Cortex have portrayed with hatred and disgust. Anatasa was always very tough, but as soon as you tested her toughness, she proved to be in a brittle state due to what is now just a thin layer of her original material. Anatasa covered the holes in its structure with her hands, so the ground beneath her also created equal iron hands to seal carelessly. Anatasa's reaction was remarkably human, in pain, she fell to her knees.
(Anatasa) How much longer do I have to endure this-? A-stay away, Leucosapphire.
(Anatasa*) …>He shrank, sinking into the iron floor, for you, however, he was perfectly stable. Your sword, made from incredibly hard pieces of androids, is cracked. Although you did not receive any direct attack from Anatasa, superficial pieces similar to thin sheets fell from your weapon. They revealed a fleshy, white interior that tried to blend into the internal red of the androids. What seemed to be a complaint from Anatasa turned into a warning as soon as you saw the metallic shape that was created from the ground and moved forward with the speed of a landslide. In an instant, an incredibly large flow of metal covered you completely. It completely stripped you of light. Inside, small particles of you and your sword came off, creating a veil of fine ash that disappeared. It would probably end up giving your skin a grainy look if you stayed there for several minutes. Cutting the iron was simple, but its ability to regenerate, or appear to regenerate due to the enormous flow, was superior. Not more than a minute had passed until the metal's control was undone and the walls returned to being the same floor. Anatasa stood, patched in patches of reddish-black mineral. Repaired, she uttered with inflexibility and disgust.
(Anatasa) I know what he will say. And that doesn't matter, it is a fact that Taaffeíta and Axinita will forget me with the passage of time, it is inevitable. If it's as you say, I'm sorry you can't handle a much lighter load.
>When you realized, one of his hands was touching your belly. The palm was made of mineral and thermal coverage, it was not an iron construction. Although Anatasa was standing more than a meter away from you. When you were able to observe properly, you could notice how he hid the edge of his sleeves between iron spikes. His empty arms were gone, replaced by a mass of iron that dripped and attracted attention. The real ones were with you, and just as you saw their spray ability working, it was much more effective with scattered material such as that of a pyroclast. Even if you broke the one in front of you, the second end was hidden to ensure contact. Thus, even if it destroys you through your weakest and most flexible area, you would not be able to continue active with only half your body for too many seconds.
(Anatasa) …
>Anatasa turned, pouring iron around her. The metal wall that surrounded you gained shine and lost hardness, liquidizing. Anatasa's hand fell in front of you and sank into this same mud, and above your head, you felt how the second one also briefly touched your hair and then fell and sank. Everything was absorbed by the iron, and Anatasa slowly absorbed that same iron. Still on her back, she bent down to rearrange her arms, one by one. You couldn't see her face, but from her voice, Anatasa sounded upset. The original floor appeared beneath you, sporting a cracked and deteriorating pyroclastic material that the androids poured in to build immediately. Anatasa confessed.
(Anatasa) It's absurd...! There are gems I can't sacrifice. You are one of them and for a moment, my first reaction was to completely remove your hands and face. It's absurd, right?! To think that I can force and limit someone like that. What's wrong with me...?
>You still don't fully recover your sense of hearing on one side of your head, but listening to Anatasa isn't difficult. Normally, Peridotite chooses to keep complete gems active or completely destroyed. Even on Crystalline Earth, the missing parts of a gem are always filled with another mineral. That's why what Anatasa proposes feels twisted. It is a fact that with enough material and light, gems can remain active even if they cannot recover information from their environment. When Anatasa exclaims for the second time, she raises her hands to her head. For the first time, you can get a glimpse of Anatasa perfectly joined together. With both iron and bromine inside, although it does not show the best condition because it is complete, in fact it has even worsened. Concentrating all her abilities within herself, while speaking of self-sacrifice, seems instinctively dangerous.(Anatasa) I thought I had enough courage to destroy myself, one who does not possess Fluorite. (...) But not. I don't want to become a despicable gem that takes advantage of others and their suffering. I don't want to receive hate from you or anyone. If only I had stuck to my desires from the beginning, I would be a silly gem who still believed in magic and fairy tales. How useful is a gem like that to you…? Can I just hold your hand and forget about all this? Not anymore… There is no way things can go back to the way they were before.
>All the metal gathers and compresses, taking on a shiny black color that slowly recovers the pieces of Anatasa around it. From time to time you can see Anatasa's second face emerge behind or in front of her. When he has finished, Anatasa lets go of his heavy limbs unable to lift them for any length of time. She slides a hand over his chest and opens up. Her steps were loaded with enough mass to sink her into the ground as she lifted one foot over the other. Due to the bromine that escapes almost invisibly from your body, the entire environment is perceived in a distorted red. Anatasa says the latter by directly observing her body, its composition and effects. But anyway she comes closer.
(Anatasa) I don't want to be alone. I don't want to die alone. Here…
(...)
>It didn't seem to be healthy for Anatasa to monopolize all of her elemental extensions. Although it wasn't optimal for it to be hollow either. For now, it was best to contain the bromine inside her in half with the metal. The iron could spread like a blob, but it could also go deep into the soil like a giant inverted grass fiber. This caused Anatasa's center of gravity to drop a lot, so her torso and head normally trembled a bit. Fortunately, the Peridotite moment is not a moment of months or years, but only of hours. There was an android waiting at the edge of the level ready to notify the Cortex Leader, but she could already realize what had happened only by feeling Anatasa's now thin influence on the ground. Anatasa holds your hand, guilt on her face. She has been extremely silent since she took the step. Peridotita and her way of presenting the information in a way that makes her the only one enjoying the conversation doesn't help their meeting either. Anatasa's position towards Peridotite used to be confrontational, but now it is only avoidant. She only reacts by pressing briefly until Peridotite leaves her alone.
(Peridotite) I knew I forgot! That's what happens when I'm forced to do something, I'm put under pressure. Leucozafiro, I was willing to give you a catalog with all the broken gems that lie here. Hm, but it looks like you already rescued one of them, I'm not really surprised. Regarding you, Anatasa, I assume that you will collaborate with us for a while, so I will advance my promise and eliminate that much abused aspect of yours. I'll use silver, it will mitigate everything. Of course, the opportunity it would give you to return to the surface is completely suspended. Now, what are you waiting for! Rejoice, jump! Don't you love me now?
(Anatasa) …
(Peridotite) You defined the shape of your heart 100 years ago, don't be surly. Leucosapphire, it is your duty to train her.

>>10225 →
Nothing is immutable, things change... I prefer that to everything always being the same.
>Anatasa's tone caught her off guard at first, but she tried to maintain composure and optimism.
Not knowing what will happen tomorrow is more exciting, although it can also worry me. But if I'm not even alive for it, I'll never know. I want others to live because I want to live too.
>She hesitated, starting to feel that this optimism was a kind of defense against Anatasa's real worries, and simply opposing what she said instead of acknowledging it wasn't doing either of them any good.
I loved once and decided I wouldn't do it again, so I closed myself off to the possibility. I came close to hating Fluorite for being the reason they were attacked and never doing anything to end it or even tell us, but I also think I started to resemble her.
>More than once she found a way to quickly end the conflict between gems and pyroclasts but decided not to and continued to wait, believing that the gems deserved a chance to keep living until each one individually decided they wanted to stop.
>If I were in Fluorite's position as I am now, I would also choose to hide certain things from most gems.
So now I hate myself. I couldn't hate someone else for hating me, treating me badly, or trying to kill me; sometimes I think I deserve it.
>She stopped moving energetically and leaned her sword against the floor, watching pieces of it break off after the blow that Anatasa still didn't respond to.
If I'm not happy where I am, I assume it's because of my own decisions. I blame myself when things don't go well, but I still doubt it's all my fault. The last thing Dioptase told me was that she no longer needed me to take care of her. And Taaffeite is intelligent, she'll know how to make her own decisions if she has the option to.
>She gripped the weapon tightly, remembering past feelings she thought she had gotten rid of. She took advantage of that moment of strength to counterattack Anatasa's iron and limbs, uselessly. All she managed to do was exhaust the little energy she was receiving in that dark place and realize how clumsy her movements were.
>When Anatasa herself stopped the attack, she didn't react to her words, just remained where the iron had trapped her, waiting for her hearing to return.
If I had never found out about everything Fluorite was hiding, I would still be trying to be the best by swinging a sword, making my sisters happy, or traveling to a distant part of the world, but I decided to do this...
>Life was simple then, it was easy to be happy when I was ignorant and neither of us could ever go back to that. All she got for trying to go back was to lose more of her material.
Things can't go back to the way they were, but they can be good again, or better... I have to stay alive to find out, the alternative would be to give up, then everything would be over.
>She accepted Anatasa's hand and led her out of that dark place with a smile, unable to believe that everything had worked out that way after the initial resistance she showed. But after the confusion, she felt something warm inside.
I want to be with you, I don't want to die soon. Hm~ hmm~ hm~ hm~ hmhm~ hmhmhmhm hmmm~
>They made the rest of the journey almost in silence, as after a few steps she felt an urge to hum something. She had never been so comfortable in direct contact with another gem, even though both of them were somewhat broken.
If Ana can't jump for joy, I'll do it for her. I'm happy to be with my sister again!
>She did as she told Peridotite and took a couple of leaps, holding Anatasa by both hands to see her face while smiling at her.
I wanted to tell you something else, Gardan. You might not remember it because it was a short conversation a few hundred years ago, but before I went down to the crust, I told you I didn't want to see you experimenting on any of my sisters.
>She turned to face the leader of the crust with a furious look. There was no way she could intimidate Peridotite, she just wanted to convey the seriousness with which she was speaking.
Maybe Anatasa is fine now, but I don't want to be a part of this anymore. If you can't stop experimenting on gems I knew just because I ask you to, then don't include me, otherwise I can't guarantee I'll remain cooperative.
>She stopped turning to look at Anatasa's expression. Immediately after making a decision, she wondered if it had been the right one, but it wasn't always possible to know the answer right away.
>She had already done too much following Peridotite's orders and now they had Anatasa on their side, or so she presumed. She didn't want to do it again, just as she hadn't wanted to do it the first time. If she even opened herself to the possibility of being convinced to try it, she would develop an even worse opinion of herself and those around her.
I forgot to pick up the weapon you gave me, but if you don't need it, I can keep it. I remembered how fun it was to play with swords.