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⬣//JUST AS A SEED TAKES ROOT.
A team of four courageous adventurers managed to unearth a secret Area unique from the others: the Hulle Granz Cathedral. Unlike other Areas, this one is lacking all the usual monsters, dungeons, and treasure. What might the purpose of this Area be, then...?
Well, if you’re feeling penitent or perhaps wish to hold a sermon of your own, head to Hidden Forbidden Holy Ground and knock yourself out. What? Too soon?
Anyway, be not afraid! The cathedral is perfectly safe. Following Ganymede’s little incident in the cathedral, a timely email has been sent out to beta testers regarding health and safety that reads as follows:
To our beta team,
Please exercise caution when playing video games for extended periods of time. Take breaks every thirty minutes and do not sit in the same position for more than two hours at a time. Remember to stay hydrated and play in a well-lit environment.
Failing to take care of your health while gaming can result in a litany of health complications, including but not limited to eye strain, muscle fatigue, headaches, dizziness, and involuntary loss of consciousness and motor functions.
We take the health and safety of our beta testers very seriously. If you have any concerns, please contact us at cccorp.ccmail.com.
Thank you for your continued efforts,
CyberConnect Corporation of Japan.
Guilds have been patched into the current version of Fragment and are now available for players to create their own and join others. While some guilds have opted to go the private route, others are in need of players to fill their ranks!
The admins have kindly supplied those recruiting for their shiny new guilds with a number of goodies to aid in their player gathering efforts:⬣ A bundle of personalized flyers proudly displaying their guild logo and a description of the guild’s @ home and available amenities.
⬣ Party poppers and streamers. Nothing screams “join my guild!” like a face full of glitter, confetti, and colorful strips of ribbon.
⬣ A megaphone that lets your voice echo far and wide, even across Root Towns and Areas, but with great potential for abuse comes restrictions! The megaphone can only be used five times before it breaks. Use it wisely!
⬣ A unique recipe for a cocktail, latte, tea, or other type of beverage that can be blended up and served in little sample cups to court potential members. These drinks are unique to their guilds and, when consumed, have a special effect that reflects the leader of that guild. Is your guild leader a pretty cheerful guy? Drinking their special brew will make you feel happy too!
Whatever effect your guild’s drink has is up to the leader’s discretion, but if you so desire, drop a comment under the questions top level and we’ll brew one up for you.
Additionally, you may host a guild open house and invite potential guildies into your @ home to let them take a look around! Guild @ homes are typically locked to guild members & their guests only, so use this as your opportunity to put your best foot forward and impress the world with everything your guild has to offer.
Also arriving with the newest update are mountable Grunties! Aren’t they cute? ...Well, they’re someone’s definition of cute.
While the ability to ride around town and in Areas at 2x speed is certainly alluring, you can’t just walk up to the Grunty Ranch located in each Root Town and take one out for a stroll. If you want a mount of your very own, you’ve got to commit! Becoming a proud Grunty owner means you must first become a proud Grunty parent, and to do that, you’ll need to raise your Grunty from infancy into adulthood.
Just what kind of adult might your Grunty become? That depends on how you raise them and what you feed them. Those strange "foods" popping up all over Areas might not taste good to you, but they sure do to Grunties!
For more information on how to acquire a baby Grunty of your very own and raise it into a proper — or not so proper — member of Grunty society, head on over to the Grunty Ranch.
Mac Anu, the City of Twilight known for its gentle ocean breezes, has been uncharacteristically warm lately. Very, very warm. Its usual orange skies have been swapped out for vivid blues, the sun dwelling high in the sky and threatening to burn everything in its wake.
It won’t take much wandering to feel the effects of heat exhaustion sink in, and even after you log out for the day, those symptoms seem to linger. Do Hien and Zelkova know what the hell is going on? Of course not. Unusual occurrences are slowly becoming the norm in Fragment, it seems, but the point of a beta test is to work out any kinks. Report it and move on.
Lumina Cloth is similarly affected by unusual weather phenomena, but it’s much more pleasant and hospitable than poor Mac Anu. The sun hangs just above the horizon, bathing the strip in early evening light. It’s much cooler here too, and what’s more, it appears that a carnival has rolled into town. What fun!
All the usual carnival fare is here: greasy fried foods, drinks served in foot long glasses, and a litany of carnival games that are totally not rigged. Entry is free and so are the prizes, but some of them take a bit of legwork to win.
⬣ Successfully PK another player to win the carnival exclusive Thursday The 12th™ skin. PK’d players will receive an appropriately spooky ghost skin of their own!
⬣ Step on up to the dunk tank and get dunked on to win a sexy swimsuit skin! Both the dunkers and the dunkees will win this skin, but only those who successfully dunk the player in the tank will be rewarded with the chance to show off some skin. The appearance this skin takes is dependent on the player wearing it, so have fun and get creative with it!
⬣ Take a trip through the hall of mirrors with a friend and do some reflecting! Stare too long into the mirrors and you might recall a memory that doesn’t belong to you, but to the person venturing through the hall of mirrors with you. Did that really happen? Surely it’s all in your head. Memories available for memshare are limited to the ones listed on your application.
Additional rewards include giant plush monsters that can be used to decorate guild @ homes and private rooms (limit one per player!) and a pet goldfish that, unfortunately, will die a hero’s tragic death within a week. Womp womp.
We’ve had a busy week! It seems like there was a glitch that allowed players to equip other players as weapons, which resulted in a ten player chain, wielded by none other than our hardworking head administrator, Hien! I’ll have a talk with him about not doing this kind of thing in the future, I promise!
That wasn’t all, though. An unknown entity reached out to the players participating in the ten-player chain and issued them a special title: Good Friends Stick Together. Fragment’s not supposed to have titles. Well, at least not in the beta. But you can go ahead and add it to your name if you want to anyway, and it shouldn’t cause any problems! We still can’t pinpoint who sent those messages and how they overrode the permissions to create those titles in the first place, but... Hmm. I don’t want to start any rumors, so I’ll keep looking into it.
There are those armor sets too, which I didn’t know had been handed out to those of you that reached level 25. Oria brought it to our attention, thankfully! There’s not a whole lot we can do about it now, but we know that some of them are pretty invasive. But knowing is half the battle, right?
Our friend Ganymede suffered an accident recently that had him lying unconscious in the hospital for about a day. He seems to be feeling better now, thankfully. Ḩ̵̲̼͆̃͐̆ò̸̧̰͕̥̈́͒̕͜p̷̫͙̯͇̾̄͜ę̸̹̒f̷̠̭͉̱̅͘ǘ̴͎̙̥̭̈́̈́l̵͇̙͍̳̜̇̓̒l̷̬̲̀̆̈̅̂ͅỳ̵̧̻̖ ̷̠̫̭̰̦̋͗h̴̰͕̑͗e̸̦̼͇̾͘ ̴̡̢̝̺̳̊̎̎̔p̴̳̠̼̜͔̂̅̐à̵͕̹̟ͅỹ̴̡̛͝s̶͉̕ ̴̢͕̬̑̆̕͝b̸̹̲͗͒̊͑͠ē̶̛͖͠ṯ̸̻̺́͒͐t̶̻͕͎̑ĕ̶̖̀͗͛͋r̷͙̗̙̲͙̓̚͝ ̷̻̠͉̈́̚a̷̡̙̳̽́̀̋̔ẗ̴̢̨̛̬̺t̴͖̳͝ē̷͇̆͆̍̚ͅn̵̪̜͉͊̉̔̄͐t̵͕̼͈̓͋̈́̕î̷̬o̸͇̐͋͑͌n̶̟̫̟̽̑͒͐͘ ̷̜̈́̈̀̂̎t̶͙̂͛ô̸̠̜ ̶̫͎̎h̶͖̳͛i̸̗͖̖̅̂͆̄͛s̸͔̈́̇̍ ̸̩̗̻̕s̵̬̼̳̲̞͝ù̸̞̺̣͙̾͒͛ŗ̴̻̟̻̭̂̈́r̶̡͈̲̣̣͋̊͗̕o̶̥̝̮̓ų̴̻̯̬̊̑̑͌̉ͅn̶̢̙̦͔͖̈̒͝d̷̰̼̤̥̃̿͒̌̎i̸̯͑̾͊̑͝n̵̦͐g̸̪̾͝͝s̷̛̝͙̣̹̍͛͝ ̸͔̲̠̩͗̓̀͘a̷̛̼̓̈́͊ṅ̵̥͆̎ḑ̶̨̯̱͍̇ ̷̛̗̮̀̆ḧ̴̼̪́͗͝i̵͓̬̤͂͐͒s̶̮̎̿̃ ̴̛͔̋͗̽h̷̝͑ͅē̴̱ȃ̵̝͎ͅļ̷͍̀͐͊̊̽ẗ̸̼̺̟̥̼́̄͛h̶̥̹̬̮̽̅ ̷̟̖̮͛́̿t̸̢̤̤̂͒͋̍o̶̼̟̓ ̵̥̳͙̖̆̈́ả̶̛̳̱͙̖̩̿̽͘v̴͈͉͖͊͘ỏ̶̤͚̅͑͝i̴̱͈̩̳̳̿̇̕͠ḏ̵͙̮͗͆ ̶̯̭̝̹̯͊s̸͍̰͔̔̀͋͋̐u̷̟̠͑̔̏̚c̵̨͖͉͇̀͆͘ͅh̴̨̓͌̄̈ ̶̧̱̻̼̏̃̃i̷̱͉͈̿̎̋͒͜͝n̴̢͓͍̂͝͠c̷̢̢̛̹͚̑̓̅ͅi̶͕̟̻̘̫̾͌d̶͉͉̏̇e̵͉̱̩̯̤͐̎̉̾n̸̡̠̈͜ţ̴̇͑̈́͘s̵̩̼͔̙̙̉͘ ̵̮̯̞̮̾̈́͋̔̈h̵̡̗͉͉͈̉̐̅̚ȁ̵͖͚̖̾p̸̰̬͖̩̀̈́̆̓p̶̢̛̼̈́͆̒͘ͅe̷̟̘̩̲̻̾̊n̵̨̩̜̟͆͘i̵̙͉̺̮͠ͅṋ̷̆ġ̶͙͚ ̴̩̋à̷̄̑̂͝ͅǧ̵͖̜͍͕̒̑͒a̷̧̛̞͐̃̈́͘i̷̯͉̬̯̽̍n̷̘̝͓̽̅̕!̵̩͑
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... I don't see how that can be an attraction.
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Because it's funny to look at! All the mirrors are different-- You've really got to see it for yourself though.
[ He says it, casually reaching for Mithrun's hand as he turns away; a loose hold easily broken, even when Tylor tries to lace their fingers on the way inside. ]
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Sure. ( He can see why Tylor would be amused by something like that. ) All the attractions here seem equally simple.
( Simple, cheap forms of entertainment... So this is how the poor live... )
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[ Tylor asks as they cross the first mirror, the deceptively smooth looking surface distorting their bodies to ridiculous proportions. Their height difference makes it all the more comical when Tylor stands up straighter. The mirror reflects his head shrinking, chest expanding, with the movement. Beyond these first mirrors, it becomes hard to tell where the path goes with the seemingly endless field of reflections laid out before them.
His laughter makes the reflection of his chest wobble. ]
See?
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... It is strange.
( He says "strange" the way you might say the word "funny," but sort of like he's unfamiliar with the word "funny" so he can't use it. He doesn't pose or move about to manipulate their reflections the way Tylor does, but he does watch their reflections as they pass by. )
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You are aware, in some numb way, the plaster at your chest, your arms, your neck that leads to the machines beside you, monitoring your vitals. An IV cather at your arm, a ventilator mask at your mouth. The hospital lights are bleary, your gaze unfocused. You are conscious, in the sense that you exist. You have laid here in this hospital bed for a long, long time.
You don't recall since when. You don't care to recall since when. You are here, you will be here, until your family no longer sustains you. And that will be that.
The door clicks. You don't look. There is the sound of footsteps; a long, comfortable stride. There is a broad figure that comes to your bedside, and its silhouette stands against the blare of the lights. The way the fluorescence frames it seems almost divine. Still, your gaze remains unfocused.
"Morgan."
The EKG machine goes erratic. Your pupil dilates. Your gaze snaps clear, and you look. You see the kind visage of a large, gregarious man - one you know so well: your professor, your confidant; your boss, in the gang.
The man who led you down this path. The man who led you here.
The whine that escapes your lips is like a feral animal's wounded growl, twisting through your dry throat like a tangle. You wrench your body toward him, but it's trembling and weak.
The man looks at you sadly, like a person would seeing a loved one in pain.
"Morgan, Morgan... Don't do that. You'll hurt yourself. See?"
With great care he gently runs his fingers along the IV cather, which had come undone in your violent motion. Your hand swings wide, grabbing his wrist. You try to grip it, but you don't have the strength.
"Are you angry with me?" His eyebrows knit up, in great concern.
You rip at your mask fogging up with your erratic breaths, and you yank it down your neck. "I'll-l-l—"
Your mind is clearer now. You haven't spoken in about a year. You haven't spoken since the accident.
He shakes his head with a great pity for you.
"I think you should rest. If you're very lucky, you'll come around well enough to live out life in a wheelchair, yes? Perhaps you'll find someone nice to take care of you, for the rest of your days. A pity about the other girl, but... this is near enough to what you wanted, isn't it? You were always so lonely..."
"I'll..."
"Now, I'd come by because I was quite worried about my old student, but you seem spry and well enough. I don't think we'll be meeting again, after this, and so..."
"I'll—... I'll kill..."
The man pauses, and, for the first time, he looks at you with interest. "Oh?"
"I'll kill you— you son of a bitch..."
And he smiles his familiar, genial smile. His gentle smile he'd give you, when he say he understood you. "Will you now, Morgan?"
Though weak, though trembling, your hand swipes from your mask to his collar. You can't keep a grip, but, for the first time in a year, you so badly want to try. You so badly want.
"I won't— stop— I'll hunt you, I'll kill you, over, and over—"
"Now, now." His smile is broad, proud. The way it used to be when you finished an assignment with results beyond an expectations - both in school, and in the gang. He gently lays a hand over your own at his collar, in his uncomfortable, cloying style of intimacy. "It seems I've gained a passionate fan. But who am I to ever deny you what you want, Morgan? It won't be very easy, but you're no stranger to that, I'm sure."
Your breath emerges shaky, your lungs unused to pumping, your ears a blare from your heart's erratic beating, the EKG machine in alarm. This is the first time in so long you've been so consciously alive. You feel hot, and cold; you feel dizzy, and angry. You hurt. It hurts.
It hurts, how bad you want this. Wanting only hurts you.
"... Just don't fail to achieve your heart's desire this time, all right? This whole endeavor might just kill you before you ever get to me. As ever, I have high hopes for you, Morgan."
The last thing you see before your vision cuts and your consciousness fades is the endless flicker of delight in his joyful eyes. )
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( Mithrun remarks just as the memory ends, after studying the mirror before them for a time. He can't tell if he finds this amusing or not, but it is interesting. )
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[ At first, Tylor responds like he hadn't seen what he'd seen, felt what he'd felt, but his expression during the whole thing makes it obvious he had. His tone is light as ever, but the loose hold on Morgan's hand tightens just a fraction.
He turns to actually look at him without the aid of a mirror, swaying their joined arms with a persistent but smaller smile. ]
So Morgan, huh? That's a pretty name. Can I call you that?
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... Where did you learn my name?
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[ Tylor blinks, but the surprise is mellow and short lived. He isn't concerned about sounding crazy, knowing what he saw and Morgan confirming his own name. ]
I don't know how, but it felt like, I think-- I was you just now. [ He tries to meet his eyes. ]
Does it really feel like that? Wanting to kill someone that badly?
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... It feels even worse. ( He doesn't know exactly what memory leak Tylor saw, or when it was from, but— ) It festers, and it festers.
( And that's why he won't be online, eventually. He knows once he starts it, he's not likely to survive it—
Or, maybe, he's just hoping he won't. But Mithrun doesn't recognize that. )
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[ There's no judgment in it, just the attempt to understand. He wouldn't have before, not nearly as well. But he'd felt it, and his body will never forget it. Tylor shifts to pull Morgan into a hug, a real one full of undemanding, unyielding warmth that he isn't even sure the shorter man can feel.
Simple curiosity, a confirmation of what he suspects already from Morgan's reactions. ]
Do you still want to kill him?
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He doesn't know what he feels, when Tylor takes him like this. Hugs is not really a thing he does, has ever done. He doesn't know if he minds it or not, but it does soften his edge, if only very slightly. )
... I do. It's the only thing I know how to want.
( There is a suggestion of his weight leaning against Tylor; not relaxing, but almost as if going slack, like his own weight is hard to support.
He doesn't know why Tylor extends this to him. By now, he's looked him up - he's lived a very different life. A normal life, with normal tragedies. His misfortune was not by his own hand. Mithrun is a strange anomaly, an antithesis. )
... It doesn't unsettle you, that these hands you've held keep company with death?
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Oh, not at all. Everyone deals with death at some point.
[ He squeezes him slightly. ]
Killing is wrong, and I don't think you should do it. But I also wouldn't stop you, even if I could, if that's what you really want to do.
[ His tone is still too light, unable to stay serious for as long as his solid hug implies. ]
What did that jerk do, anyway?
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He's quiet, for a time. )
... The first one I loved. ( The one he'd said had gotten engaged to his older brother, instead. ) He told me... I could win her back, if only I'd enough power, influence. My brother was the heir, despite... being the way he was. That man told me that if I joined him and his organization, and climbed the ranks... if she saw how people knelt before me, how I could give her anything she wanted, she would love me. I could become more than the lesser person I was. She would want me.
( ... )
It's nonsensical. It was fake. And... I was desperate.
( Repeating it out loud, he knows it sounds so stupid, like not even a child would fall for that. He knows; he knows. )
It killed her, in the end. She paid the price, and I ended up like this.
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I see. You did all of that for love? Or I guess, what you thought was love back then? I can understand that, even if you were wrong.
[ a beat. ]
So, the thing you want is revenge, then?
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( He falls quiet. Tylor can't see it, but he closes his eyes, after a time. )
... I feel so empty. It's... painful.
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I'm sorry, Morgan. What if you were able to find love again, would that--
[ But Tylor's voice tunes out, hazy like the volume dial suddenly begins being turned down. Silence comes first, then the sharp burn of scraped knees and palms and the change in scent; from the game rendering of the faint smell of sweat, dunking water, and Tylor to subtler florals and vanilla.
He finds himself even smaller than before while being hugged by someone relatively larger. Even taller than Tylor. It's unclear who it is until she pulls back and her face comes into view, hands coming to cup Mithrun's face. She has Tylor's eyes; a lighter blue yet just as warm. Sterner, perhaps, but full of as much love as Tylor himself might be capable of showing in his own. Hers look for any pain in his expression. Brown curls shift as she helps him back to his feet with both hands.
"Are you okay, Justy?"
A man from behind her asks, English with a slight Japanese accent and full of genuine concern. He has the hint of the rest of Tylor's features, dark brown hair and kind brown eyes of his own. They've come together, her clearing six feet while the man is at least six inches shorter.
Each of them offer their hand for him to take. The path before them is dirt, but seeing the Griffith Observatory above them fills him childlike excitement, a head full of stars and of the happiness that comes with being together with both of his parents. He'll feel compelled to take their hands, to revel in the safe, secure feeling they offer and envelope him in. ]
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The memory comes like a hum, drowning out his thoughts. It's not really a tune he knows, this love, but it's warm, and it's familiar - through Tylor, in some strange way. He feels their heart in the sensation of their arms around him.
He watches bleary image of a familial care he'd never had over the curve of Tylor's shoulder, and he lets the feeling sink into him, and, for a moment, he forgets the words carved into the fuller of his sword; the escalating distress of his brother, framed by their parents' narcissistic indifference. )
... Your parents were good people.
( He says this in his soft-voiced way, not sudden, though it comes with no context. Maybe Tylor can guess, though, with the mirror in Mithrun's sight. )
I read what happened to them.
( He doesn't say it as an apology, but a statement of knowing. Mithrun doesn't know if he's ever really known warmth; and yet, whatever he lost, he feels emptier for it. He can't imagine what it must be like, to have been raised in sunlight and then shut underground. )
Do you feel empty, too?
( It wouldn't be the same sort of empty Mithrun feels, maybe, but he understands the grief of loss. )
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[ Tylor shows no reaction beyond that at first, no jump in his pulse or change in his hold on Morgan. He's almost as caught off guard by this topic as he'd been with Hani. His hands shift wordlessly against swimsuit fabric and skin when his fingers curl in against the man in his arms. There's no insistence in their search for some tangible comfort, an anchor in a hall of mirrors. What happened to them. The details. He always avoided those. What was the point in knowing exactly how they died? They were gone, never to return. And there would never be any changing that.
No grief makes it into his voice. In fact, they might as well be discussing recipes again-- ]
Oh, you did?
[ Another pause, his expression blank as it reflects back on him instead of a warm memory. ]
Well, I, uh... [ His thumbs begin slow circles, but it's unclear who the comfort is really meant for before they still again.
There is a long pause. His parents swing him up onto the last ledge of their climb. Even if Tylor can't hear it filling Morgan's ears from the reflection behind him, he knows he'll probably forget what their laughter sounded like someday. ] I suppose I know what that feels like.
[ He squeezes him, a soft reset he can't help but is audible in the change in his voice right back to normal volume-- ]
But there's no point in dwelling on all of that. Life goes on, doesn't it? We only get one, so why waste it worrying over old memories? [ As much as he sounds like he means it, it's almost too flippant, his hold on Morgan too loose. Everyone leaves at some point but he'd rather not think about that right now-- ] We're both alive right now to experience all of this, and that matters more than all the emptiness in the world.
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... You can't look from the past when it walks with you.
( Life goes on, but you don't leave the past behind. You're never really faster than it; never notice, sometimes, how it outpaces you, until you tumble into the same mistakes, the same grief, disguised as the future.
But he doesn't think Tylor is wrong to want to move on from grief; it's in the nature of humans, to keep from pain. )
I only knew them for a moment, but...
( Ah, this is hard, and he doesn't know how to articulate it, in word or action. Inorganically, awkwardly, he pulls his arms from where they'd been hanging and lets them settle around Tylor. )
... I felt them here, when you were doing this to me. ( Past tense, because he doesn't feel it from Tylor right now - not quite the same way, even with Tylor pushing himself. ) Don't leave this behind, too.
( Even if looking back on old memories hurts, now, in the context of loss. )
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It isn't like Tylor, to be lost in the little moments and silent for too long. At least, not when he isn't alone. Feeling arms around him forces an inhale and a lean into Morgan, without allowing him to take his full weight. He's solid again, here and as real as the game allows them to be.
Reality, the present where he belongs, he's reminded where he is with an embrace he never expected. ]
No, I could never leave them behind, even if I wanted to. They're a part of me, just like everyone I've ever loved, or who's loved me-- my heart is stronger having known them all. Now I have so much love that sometimes it hurts not to share it. [ His arms find their strength again, enough to reaffirm their hold on Morgan when he breathes a laugh. But there is a soft vulnerability in it that is new, that he does nothing to hide. Memories have their place, like old records. And old knives. ]
I'm glad you got to meet them. You're too pretty not to know what that kind of love feels like, so try not to forget it, alright?
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Is that the right word? Friend? )
... I'll try.
( Not a noncomittal answer. That's something.
His hold loosens, his hands slipping down; the fingers curling into the small of Tylor's back, though, in the slightest resistance against going fully slack, and letting go. )
You'll meet someone who'll stay with you, too.
( Someone without an expiration date, like his parents, or Mithrun. )
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[ Tylor says it as his hand slides up to cup the back of Morgan's head, fingers threading into his hair like they had on the roof. That felt so long ago, somehow. If Morgan still has that cow headband on, then there is the distinct chance he accidentally punctuates the heartfelt sentiment with a little slow, wheezing squeak. ]
Maybe I will! But it's alright if I don't. People have their own lives and they should do what's best for them.
[ He's lucky Tylor isn't very ticklish at the small of his back. But he's still sensitive to the feel of curling fingers, prickling his arms with goose bumps. ]
You could meet someone too, you know. If you fell in love with a pretty girl, then maybe you'd want that instead of killing some old jerk.
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He can't imagine it, in the same way it's Tylor doesn't seem, to Mithrun, to comprehend a future where he's got someone who'll stay with him. )
... Loving someone is fine, but... I think...
( He thinks... what? Loving someone is already a big "if" - despite his testing, a part of him is somewhat unconvinced - but the rest shouldn't matter. It's not a want he's capable of - developing that thought further. Right?
His fingers curl into Tylor's skin, the nails pressing lightly there. )
... I don't want... to be rejected again.
( And that phrase feels strange on his tongue - that indirect articulation of desire, though he doesn't fully recognize it in this moment, after two failed loves and three rejections here. He doesn't like it. He doesn't want it. He doesn't know what he does want, but it all still stings, the sharp edges of the cracks in his heart brushing up against each other. )
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