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⬣//GROWING WILDLY OUT OF CONTROL.
September 23rd—conference day. In the hours preceding the meeting, beta testers are supplied with information on how to access the virtual conference room and offered a set of conduct guidelines. Testers are urged to read them thoroughly and instructed to sign their name on the bottom of the page to confirm that they’ve read and understand the following guidelines:
1. All questions will be addressed. Do not interrupt speakers or other beta testers when they are asking questions or having their questions answered.Players are generously allowed one hour to filter in and find their seats, review the guidelines, and discuss the questions they’ve prepared with their fellow beta testers.
2. Conduct yourself professionally and appropriately. Do not curse, shout, or otherwise engage in disruptive behavior. Violators will be muted and their speaking privileges revoked.
3. No eating or drinking. Keep your virtual space clean and free of debris.
4. Remain seated. Excessive movement or inappropriate behavior will result in restriction of your avatar’s movements.
5. PvP is disabled in the conference room. Weapons cannot be drawn and your Fragment inventory is unavailable during the duration of the conference.
One hour comes and goes. The room remains occupied only by the beta participants, CyberConnect Corporation’s flashy logo spinning idly on the conference room’s 80 inch display. Restlessness begins to settle in, idle chatter turning to frustration as one hour becomes two. Still, no one from the Corporation shows.
The conference room remains devoid of purpose, some forty-odd people sitting alone in a sterile conference room, a locked room, should anyone grow so restless they try to leave. Any attempts made to break doors and windows will fail.
The door is locked, as are the windows, the world beyond their stark white blinds a slurry of purple and black. Thunder crackles in that dark, endless void. Even if you could leave, where would you go?
It’s painfully evident after three hours of silence that no one from CyberConnect is showing up to the conference, but you knew that already, didn’t you? This mandatory meeting was fishy from the start, some would argue, while others may yet hold out hope.
That ends the instant anyone tries to log out and leave. Everyone who attempts to leave will be met with the same error Shoka was some weeks ago, but this time, the error is permanent. This time, there is no connection between mind and body anymore, and any attempt to “reach” your real self will fail.
You feel no one on the other end. You no longer feel the weight of your headset on your head or the keyboard beneath your fingertips. All your worldly aches and pains have drifted away only to find you here in your new reality, every sensation so real that Fragment no longer feels like just a game. Fragment is reality.
Three hours pass from the start of the conference. The boring white walls and rickety office chairs shudder and shake and give way to the Mac Anu everyone knows. You’re back where you started, more or less. What you do from here is up to you.
Some menus remain online. Players retain the ability to send and receive friend and party requests, access their inventories, spells, and weapons, and so on, but a few notable items are missing.
Players can no longer toggle their pain sensors on and off. Every blow you take is one you’re forced to suffer through, and what’s more, your health no longer automatically regenerates when idle. You’d better keep a stash of potions or a pocket healer handy.
While you’re at it, try not to die. The sharp-eyed among the group may notice that the respawn information nestled in the menus is no longer accessible to them. The respawn counter now reads as a series of zeros instead of the typical 20 minutes. Now is probably not the best time to continue testing Fragment’s death mechanics, but nothing’s stopping you from trying. No one’s going to save you, either.
Good luck, players. The real test has begun.
cw: strangulation
The knee ground up against his ribs winds him. The tighter Barrett squeezes, the thicker the walls of sensation press up around him; sounds get quiet, his vision goes dull. He feels so acutely the strength behind the hands that had ripped whole creatures in two, the grip hotter than he knows it, Barrett's expression a terror's visage, but - is it so unfamiliar, now that he sees its hazy edges again?
He can't move his bad arm this time; any impulse meets a cry of pain that stops it. He tries instead his other hand, swinging haphazard up to grip one of Barrett's wrists. It's resistance, which is strange for him, but it doesn't amount to much. Maybe Barrett's anger comes from something in him, twisted by grief, but - he wouldn't want to kill Mithrun, Mithrun knows.
Ah, well. If he has to go, Mithrun would've preferred if Barrett tore him up with his teeth, at least, but no chance of it now - not before he passes out. In the twisting haze of his consciousness fading beneath the beast crouched over him, he doesn't - wish he'd at least been able to kill the professor, as badly as he wants it. He doesn't know if he wishes he had more time, either.
Barrett's the only thing in his vision, so his thoughts stay simple. They'd made plans, hadn't they? )
... We still... ( He inhales a sharp hiss; his voice, a rasping wheeze, ) ... have to go to the movies...
( Like they'd meant to. )
1/2
He presses harder. Stop. Stop.
From behind them, a blade of black slowly turns to white as a timer click to an end. "Enraged", as suddenly as it came on, blinks out of existence next to Misteak's username.
...]
2/2
He feels the fading pulse under his fingers. The wheeze of breath. Recognition swings in just as fast as realization, sickening and brutal, of just what he was trying to do.
Barrett goes completely pale as all his fingers loosen and yank free, scrambling his weight backwards as his breath starts to quicken in his chest, expression drawing wide and terrified with intense distress.]
I... M-Morgan...
[An apology can't even form. He can feel blood, taste blood, see how mangled Morgan has been left on the ground. He sees how low his HP currently sits. He remembers.
He knows it's because of him. And he feels completely and utterly sick.
Eyes travel Morgan frantically as Barrett begins to tremble - wanting to break the distance, wanting to help, wanting to get him to safety... but feeling very vibrantly that he's still the loaded gun. The nails on the chalkboard.
The blood on the concrete.
So he stays frozen, agonized, until his guilt can't take it any longer, on his knees next to Mithrun, hands gentle, expression anchored with so much concern that it might rip him in two.]
Morgan... M-Morgan, stay with me--! Morgan?!
no subject
Or, almost through, anyway.
His brain lacks that instinct to ask for air. As Barrett falters, hesitates, the neurons whir, wondering without conscious thought if he has opportunity now to breathe; recognizing, in some primal way, the first utterance of his name. It's when Barrett rouses him again, desperately, that he finds reflex to breathe again; a moment of stillness, of nothing, and then - he coughs violently, his bad arm twitching, his good arm coming up so he can reach up to his throat, the violent reds blooming already into the start of awful bruises. He coughs, and coughs, and tries to breathe, not unlike he'd done after he'd come up from the dunk tank, but everything hurt so much more.
His vision's still blurry, and he isn't fully himself again, but he thinks he's awake, and he thinks Barrett is close to himself again. A little blindly, his grip swings around to grab him, hooking onto his arm and holding - not tight, he's a little too weak for that, but holding on. )
... Back— to normal—?
no subject
Overwhelming relief floods him when Morgan suddenly jerks and chokes for air, having to hold back the burn in his throat. Barrett carefully guides him onto the side of his body that doesn't look to be crushed, even if just slightly - he'd seen this enough at practice when his teammates would take a little too hard of a hit.
He swallows between his own hard breathing, allowing the grip to linger. Fuck.... fuck, he looks so out of it, how long had he been...]
Yeah, I... I'm here... I'm here now, Morgan, I...
Hold on. Hold on, I-- let me-- [It's a panicked stumbling of words that can't quite form as he looks around for his-- ah, there it is. He leaves Mithrun's side for just a moment, just long enough to throw his abandoned spear into his inventory ans crouch back down to try and size up Mithrun to be picked up.]
We... we need to get you out of here. Can you hear me? Can you move at all?
no subject
Well, he must be fine enough if he's able to coherently self-criticize. He feels dizzy and unsteady, but he's alive, whatever that looks like. Barrett's voice comes in and out, the shapes of his expression coming into vague definition. Oh, he barely has the words for this normally - never mind right now. )
... I can walk...
( He coughs, with some shaky effort trying to push himself up with one hand, maybe too soon. )
... Stay... Stay with me.
( He speaks this with certainty. He'd heard an I'm here, and he thinks he heard a now, and he's not chancing it. )
no subject
The guilt digs, harsh and immediate. An echo of words that he no longer hears, but still feels deeply. He shouldn't be here. This is his fault. His fault. Look at what you've done.
He feels so sick. Morgan asks for him, direct and wanting, and all he feels is dread.]
...I... I can't. I shouldn't. If that happens again, I'll...
[...kill him.
This is just another reason not to trust me.
He swallows, trying to lean Morgan's weight against him from his new sitting position, as though he means to try and pick him up.]
We need to find a healer. I... I'll get you to one. I won't leave you here.
no subject
He lets Barrett shift his weight against him and into his arms if that's what he needs. He's returned to ignoring his own pain, so, while his body may flinch if his arm (and thus shoulder) is jostled, Mithrun won't really acknowledge it.
But, while Barrett sets to work on that, Mithrun interrupts his effort - he takes his face by both sides of his jaw with one hand so Barrett is looking him in the eye, Mithrun's fingers curling pointedly into the bone. This is, in part, for Mithrun - he can see guilt's fault lines running through Barrett's expression better like this. )
But you'll leave me?
( After he gets Mithrun to a healer, he means. He sees you, Barrett. )
no subject
The gentle and shaking work of his hands says "No. I don't want to. I'll take care of you. Don't leave me, either." But it's impossible to ignore how unsteady his own breathing is when they are this close together, something that's already making him feel dizzy. He feels himself tilting inwardly, like a seesaw with uneven weight.]
...I need to.
[It's a small and quiet answer, torn up by panic, eyes screwing shut.]
For... just for a little bit. I need to.
[He stays very still under his own answer. He knows it's not one Mithrun will like. He knows he'll just continue to be hurt. But he feels on the verge of collapse.
He can't do that here.]
no subject
... I forgive you. ( And he'll hold onto that for Barrett, the way he holds onto Barrett being enough. ) I forgive you for hurting me, even if you don't forgive yourself.
( And it wasn't Barrett's fault, but he doesn't think that detail's going to matter much to Barrett right now. When Mithrun had hurt Tylor, though it'd been in error, what had frustrated Mithrun most - as Hani had to see and tell the both of them - was that there was no acknowledgment of wrong.
He lets go of Barrett's face. He can't stop him from leaving, angry as that makes him, but he'll be angrier, still, if Barrett comes out thinking he's lost the right to be vulnerable with him. )
... Come back soon. I'll be looking for you.
( "Waiting" is too passive, so he doesn't use it. He'll be at the door Barrett's hidden himself behind, peering under and clawing at it, just so he doesn't forget he's there. Run all you want, but he isn't letting you disappear yourself into guilty obscurity. )
no subject
It's not something he expects. Forgiveness.
Maybe Morgan was just saying it to make him feel better. There was no way. No way he could be okay with this.
...
His face still cracks with emotion under the statement. Wether he means the nod that accompanies it as an acceptance, or as an agreement to Morgan's request... it's harder to tell.
He still shifts Morgan into his arms as best as he can, the crushed shoulder facing outward. He's brought to his discarded sword long enough to get it into his inventory, before sprinting off to the dungeon - he couldn't force them both to disengage without finishing the Area, after all. They might both be in the red for health, but at least Barrett could still do this much.
Empty of enemies as the area now is, Barrett takes a second to send off a message to the first cleric he can think of. But there's no response, even by the time they make it to the end.]
...Hector's still not replying. [Shit.] One of the clerics has to be around somewhere.
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He tries to keep vigilant as they progress through the tower, but he's clearly faltering. Fortunate that there's no enemies to worry over right now. )
... Clerics are... ( Reciting: ) ... Hector... Hien... Nanashi...
( Not sure about the rest, but that's an amount of people who exist, presumably. )
... Don't use Hien. Try Nanashi.
( He's lower level, but he'll be easier to work with than Hien, assuming Hien would bother help at all. )
no subject
Mn. I'll find someone. I'll get you to someone.
[The softened tones of the blessing start to drift down as he kicks open the reward chest with one foot, not even looking at what he's picking up or listening to what the voice says. All that matters is leaving.
He holds Morgan tight as the gate engages.]
Stay with me, Morgan. Stay awake. Stay with me...
[It's hypocritical to ask. If Morgan passes out, it's not as though it's unreasonable. But the sentiment still tries to settle in as the root town comes back into view.
Even if he has to drift... come back to him. Don't leave just yet.
It's time to go find a healer.]
no subject
And somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware Barrett's armor might trigger again - in the same way he knows Barrett might keep more secrets from him, or Barrett might run errands that prove to harm the rest of them; Barrett would leave him alone, but asks Mithrun to stay.
Barrett might not want to do any of these things, but he does. )
... I'm here...
( A soft murmur - the voice of someone trying to anchor themselves awake.
But this is still Barrett, who'd hold his hand until he fell asleep, and who looks so anxious about the harm he's caused, and who tries, no matter how fumbling, the best he can with what he knows. Barrett is - more than just the sum of the things he can't trust him over; at least, that's what makes sense to him right now. )
... So let me be here.
( But you won't, will you? You're going without him.
He dozes. But he doesn't leave completely. He'll be somewhat there in mind when Barrett gets him to Nanashi. )