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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.̵̛̹̃̒́̋̾̒̔̓̒͛͆̓̃̕͠
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[ And Owen must be worried if he's offering to heal him with the piffly little healing spell that he has on his class. That moves Fandaniel far too deeply for how he normally would; the concern, it's heartwarming, so very... very heartwarming... Ah, he's feeling overwhelmed again. ]
Owen, I'm so sorry, truly.
[ Sorry, Owen, it's about to get much worse than disgusting handholding. Fandaniel comes to a stop and turns towards him, using that same offending hand that's holding his own to pull him in for... a hug. This is not the best thought-out plan considering his injury, but he isn't about to let a little pain stop him from bringing Owen into his arms and squeezing the everloving life out of the poor guy. ]
If I had known how you felt, I would have come to you!
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It's far more than he was anticipating, but - ah, it's been a while since he's hugged someone. The last time anyone was this close to him would have been... months ago, with Fandaniel himself, but before that? He can't remember.]
Well, you know know, so don't do this again.
[His free hand pats Fandaniel's back, awkward at first before he relaxes a bit. There's no reason to be so tense or to feel so shy and awkward. It's only Fandaniel. He likes Fandaniel well enough.]
So, can I take a look at your ribs or not?
[They can sort that out and then go get candy apples. Owen's still determined to get at least one of those, even if there's a disproportionate worry sitting in his guts right now.]
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Here, let me sit.
[ Which he'll go do, giving him a place to rest his weight on as he gingerly undoes the various top layers of his colorful robes. Eventually, he's only down to the first layer, a sort of turtle-necked tank that clings tightly to his skin. That, he rolls up to let Owen take a look at the utter mess his side is. There have clearly been attempts to heal it already, a wide bruise yellowing at the edges but with how massive it is...
It looks like someone hit him with a car or an oar or something wide and flat along his ribs. Mixed into the bruise, however, should Owen get in close and personal, seem to be very faint... cracks? Or cuts? Well, lacerations of some sort, but they don't seem infected or anything, just uncomfortable. ]
I can only assume my ribs were broken from this but enough people have taken a crack [ ha ha, he's so funny ] at healing me that I imagine they, at least, aren't at risk of piercing my lung any longer.
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[Fandaniel looks like he's been through the ringer, and Owen almost feels guilty for the way he was prodding him earlier. He is getting close, though, tracing one of the odd cuts with a furrowed brow.]
What happened to you? Smart of you not to compress the wound, though.
[A collapsed lung would be extra terrible right now - and he knows he doesn't need to touch Fandaniel to heal him, but he keeps his hand there as he casts Ul Repth. It's not the strongest spell, but it's something.
Did someone do this to Fandaniel? Are people really so bloodthirsty right now they'd shatter someone's ribs? If this is after people have already healed him and he's been chugging potions...]
But stupid to still be out running around. You're just going to make yourself worse if you don't get enough rest.
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[ Must have been more than a bit of trouble to cause this, though, right? Right?! Fandaniel does not elaborate beyond that, however, and instead lets his eyes flutter shut as the Ul Repth sinks into the injury. It lessens the ache, for now, and tops off his health bar.
But this is all temporary. Time is the only thing that will really heal this now. ]
I suppose it is stupid to be running about but I cannot bear the thought of sitting idle, no matter how much I suffer. [ His eyes open again, only a bit, to watch Owen curiously. ] Unless you would like to keep me company?
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[You can't just brush this under the rug?? Hello?? It looks like someone tried to kill you...
He sighs, pulling his hand back.]
I can keep you company if you promise to take at least today off. You can't expect me to watch you suffer for your own pride and boredom, can you?
[Ordinarily, he'd probably be fine with watching Fandaniel suffer, but... it doesn't sit right with him, today. Maybe it's whatever's in the air, or the fact that this is real. This isn't a game where he can just pretend everyone will be okay. How could it be a game when this is how life has always been...
It has always been like this, right? It's hard to get his thoughts straight.]
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He'll reach out to catch Owen's hand, holding it and giving it a squeeze. ]
It would mean a lot to me if you did. I really do enjoy your company, Owen. More than you might realize.
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Really? Well, I'm glad. I'd hate to be bothering you every time we cross paths.
[His head tilts quizzically, and he looks between their hands and Fandaniel's face, as if there'll be an answer for him there. Something that would explain... all of this. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the sentiment or anything like that, but he is a bit... confused over where it's coming from? It's not like he's done anything all that... special to earn a declaration like that.]
You don't have to be so serious about it, though.
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[ Which isn't very long anymore, considering, but for all the pieces he can feel missing, he is finding new ways to fill them in. Owen is one of those. He will slot him somewhere into his heart where it has been emptied out by what he has lost and then everything will be better than ever before.
Even though the smile he's giving Owen is genuine, there really is something a little... distant? In his gaze as he looks up adoringly at him. ]
That feels like it should be serious, to me, in a good way.
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It feels like words Fandaniel should be saying to somebody else. Not Owen. (Never Owen. Why would anyone ever...)]
A good way, is it? You make it sound like you're trying to...
[...]
I don't know. Anyways, are you sure you're feeling alright?
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[ And maybe that's what is wrong. Fandaniel, the rude, sarcastic asshole, where has he gone? All that's left is this content man gazing almost lovingly up at-- strike that, actually, it is lovingly. He's realizing that now. There's a swell of emotion rising up in him and he has no idea where it's come from, except that Owen is here, so that must be it.
He goes as far as lifting Owen's hand up and gingerly leaning over just enough so he can give the back of it a kiss. That done, he lowers his hand again but remains bowed over it, murmuring only loud enough for Owen to hear, ]
If I make it sound as though I have feelings for you, I believe that must be it.
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Not when he's just as emotional as Fandaniel is, though instead of feeling any sort of joy it feels like he's had icy water dumped over his head. It's not real. He's just fucking around - he has to be, because not even Fandaniel is insane enough to love someone like Owen.]
Hey, don't... joke about something like this. Save this kind of talk for someone better.
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[ He lifts his gaze up again, meeting Owen's and offering a soft smile. ]
You tell me to save my talk for someone better but the best person I can see is already before me. We are both flawed, that I will not pretend otherwise, but, please, do not act as though that makes you lesser or undeserving of love, because it doesn't. It never did, nor ever will.
[ Now that he's started, Fandaniel can't find it in himself to stop. Of course, of course! He loves Owen, what else could this be? It cuts through the pain far better than any healing spell does (no, actually, it does not) and simply being in his presence is almost unbearably warming, quite the opposite of what Owen happens to be feeling, unfortunately. ]
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Ah.
Owen's face burns for a moment, but the memory doesn't linger for long. There's too much going on in his brain to think of that, when the memory of someone looking at him and telling him to stop following self-fulfilling prophecies hasn't been entirely erased by Fragment just yet. Is that why he doubts Fandaniel? Because of his own problems? (Yes, but also no. But mostly yes.)
He can feel stupid about this later, if clarity ever comes and he can look back on this conversation objectively, because right now the only thing Owen can do is try to keep himself from crying like some sort of - overemotional teenager who's been asked to prom.]
I'm sorry, I'm - ah, it's just. I wouldn't have expected... something like this...
[He's not really doing a very good job of holding back his tears. Whoops.]
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[ Fandaniel feels a moment of panic. He made him cry? He made him cry! He surges back up to his feet from where he'd been seated with the words, ]
Oh, no, don't. Really, it's okay. Was that too much too-- gh!
[ He moved too fast but literally, too, as getting up as quickly as he had causes a twinge of massive pain in his side and he stiffens, going pale briefly as his grip on Owen's hand becomes vice-like for a second. In a much smaller voice, he quietly adds after an awkward second of standing like a stiff wooden board, ]
...I think I stood too fast...
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Fandaniel, you idiot--
[At least he isn't crying anymore! But he is standing up himself, mostly so he can push Fandaniel back onto the bench. He better have not done any permanent damage, but this entire thing is so absurd that Owen lets out a hysterical little giggle.]
I can't believe you. Stop acting without thinking!
[At least this time he didn't nearly run off an island to his death, but... Owen will just... go ahead and cast another Ul Repth. It won't do much, but maybe it'll keep his ribs from getting worse after that little stunt.]
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Sorry. I... I didn't mean to startle you. Not by hurting myself again, anyway, but also... the rest. We don't have to talk about it but, maybe, you can think on it?
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You’re fine. I was just surprised, is all, but it’s not like…
[He’s just going to stop himself there.]
Anyways. I’ll think about it, but for now if you hurt yourself again there’ll be hell to pay.
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[ Or he'll try, anyway. Whether it sticks or not! Well! His sheepishness turns into a faint chuckle and he smiles yet again at Owen. ]
I suppose we should retreat to the guild. Maybe I should put myself out with a sleeping potion like before... At least then you won't be saddled with keeping me company, if you no longer wish to.
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[It's not like twenty-four hours would even be enough time for his injuries to fully recover, but he does have to admit forcing him to rest might be more practical at this rate...]
You still owe me a candy apple, anyways, and then we can decide whether to put you to bed or not.
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[ Surprise, someone else also has a sweet tooth here. ]
no subject
If they don't, you'll just owe me.
[But he'll stand up from the bench, holding out his hands to help Fandaniel up while hopefully not putting any more strain on his injury.]
I hope it's not far.
we can probably wrap up here (and so they got candy apples)
Only a few streets away. Come along, let us see what they have.