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⬣//A SINGLE CRACK LETS THE LIGHT IN.
As they say, fortune favors the brave. Five lucky players took part in a Limited Quest: The Mysterious Sky Islands, in which they discovered a brand new Root Town. While the team was largely successful in their efforts to make the mysterious floating town in the sky habitable, not everyone embraced the spirit of teamwork on this journey.
When you gate in to this shiny new Root Town, you'll notice something curious: it has no name. Its name simply displays as "???" in every context menu and there is no signage around the Root Town itself that points to its true name— rather, the name it had before they came along.
Whispers on the wind tell of an evil wizard in flowing white robes who ruthlessly boiled the village elder alive. With him died all of this mysterious Root Town's lore and history, and in its place are tales of the monster who robbed this land of its identity. The elemental sprites that populate this village refuse to speak their name, simply wishing you "good luck, have fun!" as you turn to leave.
While on your journey to check out the island, you'll notice how unstable the bridges are. Unstable might be putting it lightly, because for some unlucky souls, crossing the wrong bridge means plummeting to your death. It seems that whoever was put in charge of constructing these bridges didn't give a damn about structural integrity.
The local sprites are pleading with adventurers to assist them in building better, more stable bridges, but bridging the gap between one island and the next is not a job for a single person. If you have enough of a heart to heed the pleas of the sprites, you'll want to work with your fellow players to get the job done. All the wood, nails, and rope you need to construct better bridges has been helpfully supplied to you by the sprites. You could always sabotage the project too, of course, but what kind of person would you be if you did that?
The professions system has been added to fragment. Rejoice, busybodies, for there is much furniture to be built and dubious potions brewed.
In celebration of the new crafting & gathering system, a crafts festival is being held in the Unnamed Root Town. Take care not to plummet to your death while traversing those rickety bridges.
Players are encouraged to set up a booth of their own and trade their unique handcrafted items with their fellow adventurers. In addition to being supplied with enough level 1 and level 2 crafting materials to give the crafting system a spin, the local NPCs are running a contest encouraging people to come up with their own for a chance to have their creations canonized as real crafting recipes.
To submit your own recipe ideas, you need only fill out this handy form:
Recipe name:
Recipe category: Alchemist, Carpenter, Chef, or Jeweler?
Which two items does your recipe call for? Choose two items to combine. Only gatherable items (refer to the professions page) can be used.
Effect: What does this item do, if anything?
Description: A brief description of your lovely new product.
Fragment's beta test has seen its fair share of unusual bugs and unintended features, and with the latest update bringing many new changes, it's inevitable that some things have broken behind the scenes.
If two players happen to log in at the same time, they might find their avatars swapped with one another's. Thankfully, this issue doesn't lead to the unpleasant exchange of deep-seated memories or anything of the sort, but getting used to a body that isn't yours takes time. Thankfully, this particular bug resolves itself when both players log out.
The windy town of Unnamed Root Town is generally quite scenic and pleasant, but there's just one issue. It's far, far windier than it should be. If the rickety bridges don't kill you, the gusts that intermittently blow across the sky islands might knock you off your feet if you don't watch your footing carefully. Thankfully, the crafts festival on the southernmost end of the island hasn't been impacted by the severe winds. Among them is one voice that you don't recognize: a voice that promises a death, gruesome and bloody, in the days to come.
To everyone's relief, the carnival and its notorious hall of mirrors has packed up and left Lumina Cloth, but your past hasn't finished haunting you. The foul winds carry whispers of the past along with them, uttering words and phrases uncomfortably familiar to you. They're the voices of your past, the voices of people you've known, loved, and lost. Covering your ears won't keep the voices out of your ears. Nothing will.
Finally, on the more mundane some of things, professions have a few kinks of their own that need to be worked out. Occasionally, a crafted item won't come out quite right, instead resulting in one of the following "items":
Alchemist: Truth Serum. Become unable to lie for 24 hours.
Blacksmith: Whatever you're enhancing transforms into a denim disaster. Introducing your new "body" armor, "leg" armor, "head" armor, and "arm" armor.
Carpenter: Mirror Mirror. Reflects the person you're most afraid of becoming.
Chef: Durian Delight. A succulent durian pudding that reeks so strongly that its stench can be smelled all across the Root Town or Area you're occupying.
Jeweler: Crystal Ball. Breaks after one use but allows you to read another player's thoughts for five minutes.
With crafting in full swing, a certain admin has been lured out of his hidey hole by the smell of delicious chef-prepared meals. Hien is hungry, and you will feed him.
Chefs are not limited by the recipes they know like some professions are, so players are encouraged to think outside of the box and combine unique ingredients to cook up something truly special.
Taste, however, isn't the only important part of a perfect meal. Chefs looking to impress the big man himself are expected to present their culinary delights to him with pomp and finesse. You need to impress Hien if you want to gain more from this venture than the participation prize of a chef skin.
Those who successfully woo Hien with their delectable dishes will be given an additional prize: a little black pomchi pet to accompany their avatar around Root Towns and Special Areas. Hien will be giving these out at his discretion, so you better suck up to the dogboss in charge if you want a pomchi of your very own. If you catch Hien in a good mood, he may even agree to give you a different breed of dog if you ask nicely.
Hello, everyone! Can you believe it's been an entire month since our beta test began? Even though we've already been through a lot together, we've still got three months left! I'm rooting for you all!
As of today, the level cap has increased from 25 to 50. That means new armor and weapons will be available to you! Get out there to different Areas and start leveling up! But don't forget to stop every once in a while and enjoy your surroundings, too. Which reminds me—don't forget to check out the new Recreational Areas! We have a beach and hotsprings for you to enjoy now. I hope everyone continues to have fun exploring!
We've also opened up the GP shop, where you can create your own special armor set for a certain price, along with a few other things. Please check it out!
Oh, and don't forget to use these three new greeting cards I've made! Here they are! Make sure you use them so you can connect with your fellow players! We're all friends here, after all.
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[He gets back to splinter removal -- it looks like he has most of his back done, but he's just making sure.]
...
Custody battle. He got us away from our dad. Took him multiple years and a lot of lawyers.
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... That's impressive.
( Playing the custody game is always a losing battle. It'd have been much cheaper to escape on your own. No wonder Barrett was so fixed on supporting his family.
As Barrett nears the end of his work, he finds himself surprised how much better it feels to be splinterless. Not that he had doubt, but because he'd begun to accept the pain would remain there. )
... Would you give everything for them?
( Vague, but intentionally so. "Everything" is everything. )
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Yes. I would.
The only thing I won't give up is being alive. We've lost enough. I won't put them through that until we're all old men. Like it should be.
[Morgan's back now clear, Barrett moves to the back of his arms.]
...What about you? Would you give everything for what you want?
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His life, though, is an interesting boundary to draw. So, not everything. Not the weightiest thing. )
... I would.
( And here, Mithrun draws no stipulation excluding his life.
The answer comes slow, but not because he's not sure; it's because he's wondering how much would be worthwhile saying. )
... But my circumstances are different. It'll be convenient for my family if I go away eventually. So I can give up everything, if that's what it costs.
cw: suicidal idiation talk just since we're skirting that here
But he remembers what Morgan had told him. What he viewed of his own life in value, in purpose. It's horrifically sad. But Barrett can see why it might be easier to let it be a casualty than to find the willpower to let his own life be his boundary.]
They're bastards if they think of their own son as an inconvenience unless he's dead.
[It's spat out a bit, far more vitriol than usually happens from Barrett's tone. But just as before when his temper rises, he lets it settle, lets himself regain his bearings before he bothers to keep talking.]
What's so important that you'd be that willing to die?
cw: oblique suicidal ideation
His gaze drifts to the springs ahead - the waters misting hot. His parents were cold-blooded, it's true; he's always known it, and he had, as a child, loved and hated every sharp and carving word, every barren-hearted gesture. In this regard, he and his brother had been the same: though they both teetered on the edge of their parents' loathing, they couldn't help but want their approval. What child, even in the face of an iron-wired mother, could not help but want to be loved? )
... I think that... ( and this he says idly in a lower tone, building on these thoughts he had not articulated out loud, ) ... it might be best for my brother if I went away, too.
( He wouldn't be dying for his brother. He wouldn't be dying for his parents, either. It would just be happy coincidence, that his absence might be some improvement in other people's lives. His brother, Mithrun presumes, is just too nice to articulate this want.
And then, properly audible: )
... The man who made me hungry. ( The professor. ) He's also why I'm like this. My accident... I want to get him back.
( This is the PG-13 answer, but no less true. He wonders if Barrett will still be angry for him. )
My choices were my choices. But I can't ignore what he did.
Cw: oblique suicidal ideation
...You don't know that. [It's all he can say genuinely, without it feeling dissonant.] You can't make that kind of decision for him no matter how you get along right now. No matter how right it feels to your heart.
[He moves to the front of Morgan's arms, letting him lay out his palms first on his lap. To hear that professor was still involved, and in something this drastic... with Barrett now in eyesight, his alarm and muted disgust is immediately visible.]
Him? [He immediately stops what he's doing to look up at Morgan, almost incredulous.] ...Was that how that asshole told you he was done with you? By doing this to you?
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You don't know that. He wonders if Barrett feels that way toward himself, or if it's a luxury he can only extend to Mithrun. Do as I say, not as I do.
It's Barrett's anger coming into view that halts those thoughts, at least for the moment. He had wondered if Barrett would still be angry for him, but some part of him doubted that he would be. Barrett - after all - is rather normal. Mithrun's tragedies are strange. He had thought that at some point he might cross a line somewhere, with how peculiar his life sort of is.
He's angry about the professor. He always is. But Barrett's anger, like Tylor's sympathy, preoccupies him from it, even if only somewhat. )
... I suspected it at the time, but... I've started thinking about it again recently, ( thanks, Sinclair, ) and I think that it was. The setup was suspicious. It was...
( ... not something he should tell Barrett. Probably not something he should tell Tylor, either, and he wonders about Sinclair. Maybe Hani would allow it, but he's never so sure how to predict them when it comes to these serious things. Oria, maybe, he could tell it to, but Oria had probably extrapolated estimations already. He was smart, and had the pieces there.
He shakes his head, dismissing his speculation. )
... He visited me in the hospital to antagonize me. It's what got me out of bed, in the end.
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With a lack of details, the muddled mess of "what ifs" just pile in his mind, a loud mess that just tastes of anger, of bitterness and sympathy.
Barrett stays quiet now that he's unable to follow the flow of Morgan's emotion, something sour and tight rising in his stomach.]
You... want to make him pay for what he did to you. That's what I'm guessing.
[He can understand the sentiment. He can understand the agony of needing somewhere to get the anger out without making the situation worse. But he had a family behind him. Morgan...
Morgan has nothing but himself. And Morgan doesn't care enough about himself for that to be anything but a vehicle.
Barrett's hand rests overtop one of Mithrun's palms, his exhale shaking.]
You really do sound a lot like Booker sometimes.
...
...Don't stoop to this man's level. Please.
I know you think your family will be better off. But that's... that's not a way you deserve to go out. He spent all that time forcing you to react, and now... isn't he just doing again by taunting you?
[If Morgan goes to ruin this person... isn't that just letting them win?]
cw: oblique suicidal ideation
He looks to Barrett, his gaze sharp - wounded, like an injured animal. )
... What else is there? ( He inhales sharp, the breath like razors in his throat. ) Is this life worth living? A life I can't live without my hand held, a life at a tenth as much vibrance as everyone else? This is the one worthwhile thing I can do - the only thing I want.
( As much as this is about getting back at the professor - it's maybe, also, about himself. )
It's better spent on this than anything else.
cw: oblique suicidal ideation
This anger... was it all he really felt he had left? That horrific man drained everything else from him and left him out to rot...
Did Morgan think it was better to fall apart with the last bits of himself than to try and have any life beyond it?
His eyes flinch at the severity, at the guilt and concern he feels towards the rage bubbling from Morgan's words, at the hopelessness. He doesn't know how to help. He doesn't know if he CAN.
All he knows is that... he doesn't want to see Morgan die like this. Not like the dying breaths of a rabid animal.
It hurts to see him like this, and the hurt echoes back, his gaze not breaking, his hand not moving.]
...Morgan.
If that's how you feel... What are you going to do when it's over?
[A question repeated.]
Are you just... letting him drag those scraps of you down to hell with him?
cw: oblique suicidal ideation
He feels his body, cooler than his legs in the spring; he feels his back, cured mostly of the sharp sensation of pain every time he breathes. He feels Barrett's hand, broader and warmer than his own. He considers that it probably still hurts, for Barrett, because he sat down to help him first. Mithrun couldn't have - wouldn't have - gotten all those out alone, even if he could've reached them.
Barrett is frustrating. Tylor is, Hani is; even Sinclair, and Oria. But Barrett is - someone who looks after people when he needs help himself. He doesn't need to sit here and try to counsel Mithrun through this - the same way he didn't need to carry Mithrun through the carnival the first time they met. It's easier, in all ways, to let go.
Mithrun's simmering. But it's for these reasons that he doesn't snap at him, irrational.
So, he closes his eyes, and turns his face only somewhat away. He repeats, in turn, his voice softer than he'd like: )
... What else is there?
cw: oblique suicidal ideation
...Even scraps left on the plate have a purpose. Remember?
[It's a quiet response. Every word he tries to give back stays at that level, a careful treading of a tense silence filled with hurt.]
...I wish I had an answer for you. You've said you keep being told to make other people who you need to live for. But... whether it's somebody else or something else, nobody can choose that anchor for you. Even if everyone's been telling you over and over that it has to be other people... it doesn't.
Maybe it can just be making it to your next birthday. Making it to the weekend. Making it past whenever he thought you might fall, even. Fuck him.
[His hand lifts, from palm to jawline, extremely hesitant. To acknowledge the turning away, to not force it back, and still say he's there.]
He was never right. There's a Morgan right here that's enough for a lot of people. He's just not enough for himself. But... dammit, Morgan, you're trying. And you're trying because you know at least something out there can keep you going.
If it can work for one awful son of a bitch that deserves to be six feet under, then there's something on that plate of yours that can find something else that makes you happy or makes you feel like you belong here. Even if you need some help or it takes a long time.
[His fingers curl against the line of his jaw, so only the knuckles run. An easy pull away.]
You're not helpless. No matter how much has been taken.
Don't let him take every last drop of you by convincing you otherwise.
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He doesn't know how he feels about most things. He's not so good at introspection. And though he's very good at finding words with which to argue, if it's a matter of denying himself - I can't, I don't; any sort of self-negation - he finds him short on them here.
Maybe the scariest thing isn't living like this, but finding something that makes him want to. A thing that makes him suffer through the empty, day in and day out, chasing the faintest glimmer of hope through the relentless Sahara, like he had with Niamh.
Maybe he'd never changed very much after all.
And yet, )
... I can't promise anything.
( He slowly exhales, the breath he hadn't known he was holding. Barrett's knuckles brush light against the jaw. He closes his eyes. And he lifts his hand to press against the back of Barrett's own, their positions reversed.
He can't promise anything. But maybe there's some chance he can try.
His fingers curl around Barrett's hand, like he's asking him to stay, despite everything. )
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[The hand curl stings. But he lets his fingers extend just enough to take the cupping, to rest against Morgan's face.]
Not everything needs a promise.
Just please... don't give up on yourself and the people that care about you.
[He finds his chest aches hard. He wonders if Tylor and Hani know. But he won't be they one to tell them. ]
Die when you're old and wrinkled, Morgan. Asleep in a chair in the sun with something sweet. When it's supposed to happen.
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His eyes slowly open, his only good black eye slowly tracing its way back to Barrett. He doesn't look like he's in good spirits, but that exhale of his did almost sound near like a laugh, at the very tail end of it. Just the briefest change in pitch. )
... I've never thought about dying old.
( He seems to ease with Barrett's hand staying where it is, and he falls quiet again, for a moment.
If not everything needs a promise, he won't. But he's heard him. And he'll have the time to turn it over in his thoughts for awhile yet. )
... Am I that much like Booker?
Cw: suicidal ideation
Sometimes. You don't put plastic wrap over toilet seats or send glitter bombs to professors you don't like.
[It's a moment given to humor and nostalgia, before he lets his voice slip quiet again.]
When we were ten, he'd sit with me at night a lot and talk how the only thing he wanted was for our dad to die. How he wished he'd been the one to go instead. He'd get angry at me for pulling him away from Lily... or from trying to ask him to stop. He'd cry until he went into cataplexy, and then would cry out of frustration when he woke up from that.
[He swallows hard, letting his gaze drift to the side, to the water.]
I never knew how to help him when he felt so helpless and angry. All I knew was... I didn't want to lose someone I loved so much when I already almost lost him once.
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... If we really are alike... then it's better he had you than not.
( Maybe he would've been on a much worse path now if Barrett hadn't been there for him. Maybe a path like Mithrun's. But maybe Mithrun assumes too much.
He notices their awkward positions, though. He'd made Barrett stay, but maybe he was just keeping him. He lets his hold come loose from Barrett's hand. )
... Do you want to move into the springs? I can work on your back there. I'm fine now. You've done enough.
( He doesn't clarify if he means his splinters, or his state of mind. Maybe both. )
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...
Oh. Right, the splinters.]
...Ah.
Yeah. Hold on, let me get a towel.
[His thumb traces one more time, before his touch finally lifts, hoisting himself back up to his feet with a huff of breath to grab a second towel.
There's the sound of fabric as his pants hit the floor, but he keeps his back turned as he steps out of them and tosses them with the rest of his clothes. Enjoy a nice ass before a towel blocks the view, Morgan.
He flinches as soon as he dips down into the water, leaning down to start picking more of the wood off his own legs.]
Do you want me on the edge, or just, uh... just sitting in here in front of you? What's easier?
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These thoughts pause as Mithrun sees that which Hani might describe as "something amazing." For the first time, as Barrett settles into his towel, he's conscious of how unclothed he is. He doesn't know what that means. Obviously he was aware Barrett would be largely nude, but...? )
... Inside, I think. I can stay on the ledge. ( It help makes up for their size difference. ) But I'll work quick to join you.
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[So down into the water he goes, a sharp breath in through his teeth at how many places sting in protest. He keeps towards the edge, though, his back to Mithrun as he repositions himself in front of his legs. It's a lot of worked muscle, the slightest trail of light clustered freckles against the top of his shoulders and down his back.]
If only this place had a healing effect. [He chuckles tightly, even as he winces once more as he starts work on pulling splinters from his chest.] Maybe this wouldn't hurt so much.
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For better or worse, once he gets to work, his fingers move with particular efficiency, like a woodpecker (reverse woodpecker??). It probably pricks a lot, but Barrett's back will be free of wood soon enough. )
... Last time I came, it felt like it soothed some aches, at least.
( So, there's that. Even if it doesn't heal. )
I didn't realize you had freckles. Are they from the sun?
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There's a start at the question, slight, as the redhead tries and fails to look over his shoulder.]
Oh.
I don't really know. I've had freckles since I was a kid. Kind of cool that the game picked it up, I didn't realize that.
Booker just calls it my star chart.
[It trails up his neck and down his spine in patches as well, faint enough that being this close would be the only way to see it.]
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He does remember Barrett saying Booker wanted to study astronomy. )
... Did he ever try to read it?
( Jokingly or otherwise. )
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[He momentarily lifts his right arm, just a bit, before letting it drop.]
I got a tattoo on this arm over their favorite one.
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