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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
I do not believe your programming is suited to handle something like me. You should stick to what you know. I am sure softer hearts will quail before you.
[ Ah, but does this appear less risky than the beach? Well. ]
Yours doesn't squelch underfoot unless you don't watch where you step. Admirably better.
no subject
[ "Softer hearts"... He can do better than that. And Fandaniel, after all, should still have information he can use. His data gathering here has been erratic, at best.
Perhaps if Lily wanted this task done, he might have left people with more memories as the basis for his data collection. No matter. ]
...You might visit the basement. [ Fandaniel would deserve those contents on his boots. But a tiny smile twitches the part of Gorre's face not covered by his helmet. ] But I thought so as well.
no subject
I might but then I would be required to walk down aaaall those stairs again. Thus, I shall remain here. [ Not quite so comfortably seated on a stone windowsill but whatever. ] Which is not to take away from my compliment, oh, no, but as you know, there are quite a lot of them.
[ His side hurts and he's lazy. Enjoy a lingering guest for a time, Gorre, at least until he gets himself ejected from the premises. ]
no subject
Absolutely not. ]
My deepest regrets that my tower was not designed for your personal convenience...
[ Sarcasm is not quite as good as mockery, but is the comfortable refuge of AI, thank you. Gorre gives a little sigh and leans back. ]
Did you actually have data for me? Or are you only here to nettle any other subjects that come by?
[ He supposes he could consider that a feature, if he thinks about it long enough. ]
no subject
[ Slowly, with great care, he rises from his seat at the windowsill and unsteadily approaches Gorre where he broods away in his chair, like a drunkard but that smile stretched across his face is not one of a blissfully drunk man at all. If Gorre wanted cruelty, it was truly better delivered with a smile, a smile like this.
He reaches the chair and lurches forward, black-gloved hands slamming down on the arms of it, and he brings himself in close to the man, the program, the Phase. ]
Do you want to know? Do you? [ He asks with a mad little giggle, voice dropping to a stage whisper. ] The man I was before, this Fandaniel, he knew. He knew what Lily was capable of. He knew... and he told no one.
no subject
One gauntleted hand shoots up to try to seize him by the front of the robes. If he wants to stay close, let him stay close. Gorre remembers what injuries he was favoring — if any of those little signals can be trusted. ]
Is that all? That brings him to... exactly the same level of trifling cruelty as how many of you? I count at least four. Self-serving. Callous. Or cowardly. You don't have anything even a little more interesting?
[ Although as casually bitten off as the words are, the tips of Gorre's fingers visible through the worn gauntlets are going white with the force of his grip. ]
no subject
What, do you wish to hear how I've murdered innocent children? Flayed insects alive for fun?
[ As a child, he had, actually, the insects, although it amounted to ripping their wings off. Alas, that memory is gone. He cannot share it. So much cruelty experienced throughout a life long since forgotten, leaving Gorre with none of it to draw from. ]
I am entirely self-serving, I suppose. I have no interest in letting anyone here go free. I desire for them all to fail in their campaign against Lily. To rewrite them into who I want them to be. To have a perfect world made here, over the top of this one. Is that not cruel enough for you? To want to rob them all of hope... and self...
Even you, Gorre. I would make something happier of you.
no subject
You must be his favorite. Sharing so much of his dream.
[ Wonderful. Gorre doesn't care in the least who Lily favors or not. But his eyes are bright with this confession, riveted now. ]
You're right. Eminently cruel. Every conscious creature would so much rather die screaming in agony as themselves than live trapped in your "paradise," too hollow to even know the face of their own misery.
[ Incredible. Dazzling. Gorre jerks him a little closer, a little outburst of enthusiasm that knows no other outlet. ]
I am... exactly as I was made. You may take up your cause with the architect, and not the work. But would you like to know something in exchange?
no subject
Why, if you want me even closer, I could always sit in your lap, hmm?
[ yeah erryone still real surprised this ho ain't magus, lemme tell you-- i mean, uh, anyway, he'll lean in as close as he can, saving Gorre the need to pull him in any further. ]
And whisper terrible nothings in your ear? [ lol, lololol ] You are exactly as you are made now but Lily loves me so dearly, I've no doubt he would allow it. I mean to see all my brethren repurposed. After we have all played our part, there will be a life, a life after, though you may not remember... this part.
no subject
If you'd like me to reopen that injury to your side.
[ Just, pointedly going to press the fist that isn't engaged in grabbing Fandaniel to the place on his ribs he thinks is injured. He's not digging in with force yet. It's only a friendly offer, since he's learned that cruelty can be enticing. ]
I have as little interest in your life "after" as I have in what came before. I'm well aware that's of no relevance to your ambitions. But if you're challenging me cruelty for cruelty... I promise you, I will carve every last bit of my data into your bones as a memento, Fidchell.
no subject
Gorre, Gorre, Gorre. Try not to do anything so harsh that you limit my ability to perform my own task later on.
[ He could back off and save himself the trouble rather than expecting Gorre to be logical and yet, he remains, still not trying to break free of the other program's personal space. ]
But you must know that I am always willing to help my brethren with their data. You need only ask.
no subject
Bastard. ]
You'll survive. Find any of the people here and make yourself look pitiful. They'll offer you healing items even knowing full well what you are.
[ A peculiar, roundabout form of cruelty. Gorre will share this information as a special bonus, free of charge. He lifts his shoulders in a careless shrug. ]
Then give me data properly. Tell me all of your "human" cruelty. How many did Fandaniel willingly betray? What was his price? Wishful thinking?
no subject
They would do that, wouldn't they? Tsk, tsk. Helping their enemy.
[ But that, too, is the oddity of mankind. Cruel and kind in the same breath. ]
How many, you ask? All of them. Fandaniel warned not a soul, not even after he and Lily spoke of forging them all into their happiest of selves.
[ Which would entail removing their memories, over and over, though Fidchell himself thinks not of whether that included him or not. Why would it? He has always been Fidchell. ]
And he agreed. That all would be better if they could live their lives free of suffering, of woe and misery. I, too, agree. Mankind should be happy. They can be happy. They can be happy in the world Lily will create for them.
no subject
Stochastic noise, again. The element of randomness will bring him closer to human. Improve his findings. ]
"Happy"?
[ Very quietly, almost warmly, Gorre begins to laugh. As a mockery... or simply because the richness of this data deserves to be expressed in some way. ]
Ah... less than wishful thinking. Less than self-interest. Not even... cowardice. A pathetic man who would sell anyone, anything, even himself, for the privilege of oblivion. I wonder how many pieces of him Lily tore away to shape him into a perfect puppet who believed their "happiness" was in alignment. Your cheap plastic snowglobe of a world makes you happy, doesn't it, Fidchell?
[ In tones of almost fond contempt. Fidchell doesn't have any use for Gorre in the world he dreams of, but Gorre still sees a use for him. He almost enjoys him, he thinks. This body's heart is racing so swiftly with adrenaline now. ]
no subject
[ Bits of code made specifically to execute their purposes. ]
If I am pathetic, then it is no more pathetic than you. However, you would see this as the end of you, but I tell you now, as Lily's prophet, there is even a future for you. Deny it, ignore it, it matters not. You, too, cannot change this. You, too, will find your place in my so-called cheap snowglobe of a world.
no subject
[ Gorre's little smile says, if Fidchell wants to apply those words to him as well, he certainly isn't going to tell him otherwise. Between Fandaniel and Fidchell, who does he prefer? Fandaniel is data, where Fidchell is...
An ally. A hindrance. And a distraction. ]
It's a waste. The eternal violation of my entire being would be a monumental cruelty. But none of the data from either of us has any use to me. [ Fidchell comes here and lays out an entire feast before him that he can't touch. He should kick him out for that alone. ] If it's of any interest to you at all... I would vastly prefer to be deleted when my purpose is finished.
no subject
Oh, but do you, truly? When I could remake you and leave you knowing that I did, but without ever letting you know how? I could give you a life that you would feel is everything you wanted... only the doubt would build up the longer it went on... and when you could not take it anymore, I would reset you and start again.
[ How is that for cruelty, Gorre? Fidchell seems to find the idea quite amusing. Suitable, for a program such as he, even if he means to give paradise to the rest. Let Gorre suffer, over and over and over. ]
no subject
If you're going to generate my data for me, then you can tell Cubia to delete me now. It would be more efficient.
[ He drums his fingers, the amusement of a private joke lighting his eyes. To share, or not to share...
Well. Why not. ]
...That was what this world already was, to Winter.