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⬣//ILLNESS BEYOND CONTAINMENT, DEATH WITHOUT LIMIT
You wake to the sound of silence— no early morning birdsong, no rustling leaves, not even the sound of your own breathing reaches your ears. For a single moment, you feel as if time has frozen, your mind held in stasis, until a familiar boyish lilt hits your ears. A beat later and he's standing before you, a smile stretching from cheek to cheek, but that smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Good morning, sleepyhead! I was wondering when you'd wake up. Are you well? Does anything hurt?
Mm, not that it makes much difference to me. If you're in pain, know that it's only temporary. If you're unhappy, you won't stay that way forever. This world is a world of miracles, one where everything that hurts you can be forgotten and destroyed!
Ah, but some of you don't believe me when I say that. Some of you still think the world that's hurt you oh so much is better than one where you can make all that pain go away. Don't you want to be happy? Why are humans so addicted to their own suffering?
I think it's time to find out!"
The boy vanishes before you can get a word in edgewise. Try to reach out and touch him and your hand will pass straight through. You now have, at least, a solid idea of what Lily looks like. It's only a shame that there is little you can do to stop him.
On the same day Lily made his presence known to all of Fragment, another equally sweet young boy has mysteriously vanished.
In the monster-laden streets of Mac Anu, shreds of bloodied white fabric can be found scattered about. A single golden horn can be found in the canal, roughly shorn and badly scuffed.
It's unclear who or what injured Zelkova, but no matter where you search or how hard you try to find him, no further clues will turn up.
When attempting to message Zelkova, who appears online as he always does, you'll always receive the same response—
"Hi! I'm Zelkova!"
In the wake of Zelkova's absence is a feeling of unease. You may feel anxious, scared, perhaps even angry over the perpetual downturn of events. In fact, you'll find that it's gotten very difficult to manage your own emotions.
Throughout the next two weeks, you'll steadily get more and more emotional. Small inconveniences will throw you into a rage. Stubbing your toe will make you lapse into hysterics. A smile from a friend may fill your heart with longing and your loins with lust.
No matter how you might try to quell the tempest of emotion inside of you, nothing seems to work. Every feeling is magnified, every feeling is intense, and all you can do is allow yourself to be taken by emotion.
It's a shame Zelkova isn't here to assure you that everything will be fine, just fine. Fine, fine, fine…
You may hear stirrings amongst the NPCs in various Root Towns that something unusual is occurring at Twilight Shoreline. Some claim that the sky itself has been ripped and torn while others make mention of an unusual figure lingering in the waves.
It may be tempting to gate in and investigate these unusual rumors yourself, but be warned: you may not leave in the same condition you arrived.
Do you remember what it was like to be a real human being? To have a life, a purpose, a meaning outside of the digital world? That must be nice. Memories are such lovely, precious things.
Unfortunately, what little remains to you will be taken away with the loss of your third and final core memory. Several other memories from your time in the outside world will disappear as the days roll by, slowly but surely erasing who you were and making room for who you have become: a swordsman, an adventurer, a catgirl, a being who has never known anything beyond the boundaries of Fragment.
Still, some pieces of your old identity remain, desperately clinging onto your old concept of self. Those with the drive to escape Fragment and return to the real world will still feel that flame burning deep within even if they no longer remember what sparked it. Not all hope is lost, but the worst has yet to come.
A foul wind blows, billowing through Root Towns and Recreational Areas alike. On the wind, you hear the whispers of forgotten memories, both your own and those of the people trapped with you. Though you may no longer recognize those memories as your own or those of your friends, you can't help but feel as if some part of you has been clawed out and torn to shreds. It's a sad, lonely, isolating feeling, b̵͓̘͎͍̅̄͛́ú̷̹͕̒̀͝t̴̟̥̮͖̗̆̃̾͋̋̎̄̉͐̋͆̇̕͘ ̴̢̥̬̼͚̰̬̰͍̥͉̝̦͕̥̰̎̈́̃̅͆̉̈́̀̏̏̇̀͜í̵̧̧̥͓͇̠̗̤̺̖̼̬̪́̓̐̽̿̽͗͜t̴̨̲͎̼̦̱̪̬̭͖̓̾̈̄̈́̒̎͆̇̕͠ ̸̢̣̰͈̝͈̫̦͉͕̋͂̐͗̓̽́̈͛̃͑̓̚͜͝ẁ̷̙͛̍̑̈́̅͂͊̓̽̈̌̋͘͝ó̷̢̮̟͙̹̤̭̬̬̰͓̣͑͆̂̈́̎͂̒̌̊̽͘̚̚͜͠͠ņ̵̢̛̦̖̆͆͂̽̑̊'̷̢̮̫͚̜̭̰̙̭͚͓̭͙̺͑͜ţ̸̛̛̘͚̘̯̲̖̰̝̖͙̥͊̉̑̄̽̀̆̎̈́̅͘͜͝ ̶̩́̈̈́̌͑̿̆̾̈́͊̀̈́͘̚͝͝l̴̲͕̩̊́a̶̫̪̽̒̌̀̑̍̿̕s̶̱͉̩̣̒͆̽͗̽̊͂̚̕͠͝t̸̢̧̨̹̬̹͈̣̮͈̣͚̰̳̲̤͌͗̊͗̎͂̎͗̏̆̀̀͑̽̑̿͠ ̴̩̺͕̳̝̘̳̣͎͚̰̇̈́̈́͑͐̈̈̏̀͂̈́̍̽̑ͅf̷̛̙̖̲́͒͐̏̒̿̆͆̑̎͐̄̉o̷̱̭̙͗̌͆͗́̆̌́͗̚͘ȓ̷̡̢̦̠̖̟̻̬͚͈͔̥͓̟̤̋̿̃̎̌͗̂̽̐͛͆͠e̵̼̻͓̺̖͓̞̘̤͎̤͓͚͔͚͔̓̈́͘v̵̡̖̳̗̼͉̻͓̗̠̝̭͍̆͒ͅê̷̱̄̀ͅr̴̤̠̜̞͉̘̙̠̙̩̣̫̮̘͖͉̿͋̈͊̓̓͜.̷͓̯̒͐̏̋̓͗̄̉̓̎̒̾̚͝͝ͅ ̸͖̘̞̼͓͚̝̘̙͓͔̱̗͍̏̑̐̔̋̉͂̈̿̆͂̋̋̈S̵̢̫̭̠̩̻̩̈́̔̅̾͛͛̌̃̑͐̈̕͝o̵̡͖̙̘̟͕̗̲̒͋̇̿̔̍͒̈́̏͑͆̉̀͒́̕̕ö̸̜́̽̈́̀̆̐̂̉̔́̅̔̆ň̵̛̥͍̘͕̫̝͔̼̮̝̤̎̀̉̔̍̊͜,̸̨̛͇͙̺̱͎͙͖͎́̈̈̀̂͜͝ ̵̩̯̯̟̂̒͊̌̆̆y̵̢̜̘̘͗͂̎̓͒̿͑̇̆̉̋͘͠͠o̷̢̨̜̹̣̗̤͍͇̅́ŭ̷̞̇̈̑̂͊͂̓͋̅̌͐͘'̴̡̨̡̰̘̠͉͈̥̓͜l̴̡̡̰̖͙͕̹̹̝̖͉̓̿l̸̢̧̞̜̻̝͈̙̫̈́̒̈́̐̀̄̿̈́̀̄̚͘͘̕͜ ̵̛̗̗̙̩̙̝̩̟͎̗͉̠̉̋̒́̐̐̀̄̃̐́̎͒̕͝b̵̨̡̢͖̺̼͔͓̬̟̭͕̈̈̓̒̓͌ȩ̷̥̟̳̲̝̩̝̱͎̲͆̔̕͜͠ ̷̧͈̠͈͓͉̭͔̪͕͖̫͇̼̩͓̣̔̆̈́̋̓́̂̉̔̎͂̒̈́͂͂̈́̚ḥ̷̛͍͇͈̼̺̣̦͕̪̹̘̝̅̂̌͗̾̋͌̈́̾̂͠͝͝a̶̢̛̝͔͚̠̻̗̞̿̊̆͒̐̅̉͗͒̉͘̕͠ͅp̵̓̍̾̓͊̌̑̈͋̾͒͜͝p̶̳͎͙̹̎͆̿͠ͅy̸̨̧̡̩͚̯̪͕̽̓̅̀̇̕͜.̷͍͙̹̓͛͐̀͐́͝ ̷̺̼͖̔͐̏̈̾̈́̆̿̅͝͠͠Y̷̢̛͗̀͛o̵̢͖͖͈̙͒̄̆̉̀̆͌̉͜u̵̫̩͓͖̲̝͔̲̎̏̐̈̓̚͘'̵̡̨̻͍̲͚͔̤̼̬̪̠́͌́́̒̕͠l̷̫͔̜̍͆̍͋̔͆͒̾̑͑̐͒̈l̴̡̩̳̟̩͕̗̠͗̓̆̚͝ ̶̯͈͕̜̤̗͚̙̗̝͒̃̎́̒̂̔͑́͊̈́̓͒͌̅͝k̶͕̬̳̰̝̮͈͉̰͊́̃͘͜ṋ̵̎̃͛̾̃͐̂̔̿̔͐̓̍ő̴̫͔̐̂͑͛͋̈́̂̈́̈̚ẅ̵̛̮̪̝̖̰͖́̃̇̃̇̅̓̇̕̚͠ ̴̢̫͕̻̜͇̝̺̣̟̥̥͉̖̗̱̙̇͑͆̿̓͑̕ņ̷̨̢̩̳̱̝̩͖̼̰̩͙̫͆̄͐ơ̶̢̧̢̡̰̜̰̞̭͓̹͔̲̱̄͋̄͐̆̏́͗̏̀͂̓͗͋͊͘ ̷̘͈̰͖̰͂͛͌̑̿̀͗͑́̽̊͂̒̚͝ͅp̸̯̤̀̄̀a̵͇̖̖̹͗͑̈͐̉̽͂̚͝ḭ̴̫̫͚̻̥̮̲̫͈̹̮̞̲̘̩̪̄͐͐̄̈́̒͌̇̇̽̓̆͗̒͝n̷͓̥̬̠͔̗̯̬͈̪̞̪̗̘̩̲̭͗̏.̷͙̹̥̗̼̉̽̆̈́͘̕͠͝ ̸̞͔̱͙̑̄̈́̂̔̎̃̓̐̚H̷̨̲̗̲͙̗̱̠̗̹͔̥̦̋͒̈́̆͑̚͜á̵̧̛̛̟͎͈̲̼̣̊̆̇̐͆̌͒̀̚͠ͅp̶͎̠̫͖̗͋͑̏͑͛̈́̏͋̈̇͘p̸͈̟̦̠̮͚̫̥̅̍̐̏͆̂̀̒̇̂́͌̐́̕i̵̡̡̘͔͍̭̱̜̯̞͎̬͈̗̎̀̈͒̆̀̓̈͜͝n̵̜̑̃̔͠e̴̡̢̦̩͙͚̦̥͎̩̰̓̈́̿̎̔͌s̸̥͓̱̗͙̥̺͖̥͉̱̹̟̀́̀̆̑͂̌͜ͅś̵͚̮̝̤̭̘͎͔̝͔̤͙̤̮͓̘̒͋̂͗̍̓̔ ̵̦͖̩̠͉̹̘͎̮͓͙̙̣̜̘͋͊̏͊̋̊̈̓́͆̌̚͝c̷̨͕͕͕̖͉̹͔͎̦̠̱̍ǎ̷̫̬̪̘̠͔͍͍̹̞͉̈́̃̓̊͆͘͠ń̸̢͆͒̀̀͂̊̆̚̕̕ ̶̙̺͇̬̼̪̩̮͗͌̍̈̀̀͝b̸̡̺̞̳̗̳̙̗̯̠̦̼̻̭̑͗̋̔͒̀̾̅̄̊̾̾͘e̴̢̢̘̜̟̯͎̜̭̞̼͚̟̾́̓͊̊̃̄͌̃̓͆̽̕ͅ ̵͔̝̖̖͚̓͂f̷̡̛̝̳͎̼̼̱̪͈͙̣͖͙̘̞̺̮̉͑͘͝͝ő̷̧̹̦͓̰̦̯̝̣̱̲̠̩̟̺́̋̅́͒̈̏͘͝u̸͍͍͇̟̲̟̟̺̓̌̍͑͒͌́̌̽̐͊̚̚͝n̴͓̺͕̜͚̲͍͍̰̙̖̘̪͓̙̘͇̍͑͛͊͂̄̾̿̍͋͊̂̈́̕͝d̴̺̟̞̙͍͓̪͈͋̓̇͌̚͜ͅ ̵̛̮̯̪̤̫͖̠͔̫̥̬̰͈͍͚̇̀͗̐͗̈̚͝͝͝ę̶̡̦̜͙͔̜̩̽̇̀v̵̢̡̗̥̬͉͍̱̲̻̘̝̮́̅̍̈́͑̌̏̚̕ͅͅͅë̶̝̳̤́͋̈͗͋̍̊̽͋̕͝n̵̪͓̠͖̫̫̩̻͚͍̬̤͆͗͊̉̾̌͐̾͑̑̍̈́̕ͅ ̷̙͍͓̂̔̓̃̄̚͝i̵̧̨̮͕̱͓͕̦͇̲̹̋̐̈́̆͜ͅn̷̝͈͇̹͚̝̏̄ ̴͇̪̬̈́̏͗̃̄͌̐̊͝ͅd̵͔̖̠͈̮̃̍͗̀̋͛͗̈́̏͂̇̇̕ę̴̪̟̰͍̱̘͇̼̻̤͎̇͊̐ą̷̧̪̭̖̣̖͎̪͌̒̐̄̑͊̐͑̕t̵̡̧̡̯̬̗̞̰̪͇͉͎͍̝̰̄̓͌̈́͆̿̔͐̇̈́h̷̥̖͔̆͑͊͛͂͠.̵̛̹̃̒́̋̾̒̔̓̒͛͆̓̃̕͠
no subject
Hm? He does, when people aren't fighting him. But he'll always make things if people ask or bribe him, if it doesn't go against TOS. He made one of the books for Noir, I think.
[The other child Hien is nice to]
no subject
Hector crosses his arms as he listens. Really? Guess he just doesn't fall into that category, considering he typically demands things from him, so...
Anyway, that totally doesn't count. ]
I've never fought him, but he always seems so ready to fight me instead. [ He laughs at the thought. ] Should I give him a present next time?
no subject
...food helps, I think. Especially if you want to add more things to the library that only the Head Admin can add.
[Not mentioning his sparring sessions with Hien though. That might alarm people]
no subject
[ Food from Hector... He has a feeling Hien might put him in a casket again if that happened.
Anyway. This is a serendipitous meeting, because— ]
Actually, since you come here a lot, do you think you could help me find what I'm looking for?
no subject
[ If he can be helpful, he will!]
no subject
[ He folds his arms across his chest and stares down the hall of books. ]
The library feels like it's the right place, but I can't tell you why. I don't know if there's a book or something here, but...
[ He turns his attention back to Sinclair. ]
Are there any books here that start with the letter T?
no subject
[The library was pretty barebones]
Is it something offline or to do with Fragment?
no subject
Now that you mention it...it might not be related to Fragment at all.
[ His brow furrows as his brain begins to whir again. ]
There is something out there, isn't there?
no subject
[Sinclair picks up a copy of The Little Prince and hands it to Hector]
A world far bigger than we can imagine. One where no one's imagination is limited to what they can see.
no subject
Maybe...that's what I'm looking for.
[ T isn't related to this book at all. It's something out there. ]
I think "T" is...a person. And I think they're waiting for me, out there. [ He frowns. ] Then why did I come here?
no subject
[ Even though all their memories are very far away and faint now]
no subject
Hector blinks a few times, and he feels his eyes watering. His vision blurs as he stares at the cover of the book. Strange. His mind is completely blank, groping in the dark for answers, but here he is having an emotional reaction to something he isn't even certain actually exists.
With the heel of his palm, he rubs at his eyes. ]
I think...they loved reading.
[ He feels a stray tear roll down his cheek, and he starts laughing as he wipes it away. ]
Sorry, I don't know why this is happening.
no subject
You shouldn't apologise. They must have been very important to you, that you kept looking even without knowing why...it's the same for me. That book your holding means a lot to me, but I don't know why.
[He'll reach up to touch Hector's shoulder gently]
...ask Hien. One meal, one book. If you give him a list, he'll use his admin access to code them for you. I'm sure there might be an answer in that.
[And Sinclair is a reader]
...do you know what the book might have been about?
no subject
I don't know if there was one book. I just know that books feel right.
[ With a sniff, he pats at Sinclair's hand on his shoulder. ]
But thanks, for the tip. If I can ever remember, I'll ask Hien.
[ If Hien just doesn't immediately decapitate him on sight lmao ]
no subject
[That will surely not happen. Probably. He smiles as he takes back the book and it disappears into his inventory. Another book pops up in its place at the shelf (still very empty)]