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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.
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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That must be a a heavy weight to bear. )
... Did you keep it off your avatar?
( He shifts some, hands drifting under Barrett's wing to lift it lightly so he get to the splinters under it. Though... A pause, and he runs the fingers of his other hand along the costa, to feel if any splinters got into his wings, too. )
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C-careful. Careful, that... it tickles. [It's sensitive. But he doesn't know what other word to use.
He lets out a breath, trying to relax the unfamiliar appendage back into Morgan's fingers.]
Uh. Right. The tattoo. Um.
I couldn't get it to look right. In the game, I mean. And it's covered up most of the time. So I just removed it.
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He notices the reaction, but he didn't realize it'd have functional sensors - does it function like a phantom limb? Interesting.
He traces his fingers down along his wing's strange-feeling surface, pausing as he comes along each ridge and scratch to lightly thumb it, checking if there's no splinters there, and pausing when he does find a bit of wood to work out. Unlike with Barrett's back, he works slow and careful here, his palms brushing light against the wing each time. )
I see. What does it look like?
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[He tries to keep his breathing even as Morgan works, unable to control the slight jolt every time his fingers press in even slightly. He doesn't realize he has a loosened fist pressed up against his lips in concentration. His exhales stay slow.
Easy does it, buddy.]
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( As he pulls out what he thinks may be the last splinter for this wing, he lays one hand at the skin at the base and wraps it gently around the costa, and props it up at a slight angle with his thumb. He runs a his other palm down along it, the thumb run along one side, and index smooth along the other, tracing as close to the tip as he can reach.
He seems satisfied that he's gotten everything, but the way his hands are now does mean he's that much more privy to Barrett's reactions, and he pauses, hands still where they are, his nails brushing so slightly against the wings without him realizing. )
... Is this starting to bother you?
( That would be unfortunate, since they've got another wing to go. )
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It feels strange. It makes his face feel a little warm. Maybe that's just the onsen, though.
His shoulder rolls gently under Morgan's touch, a careful means to try and combat the sensation he isn't sure what to do about just yet.]
...You're okay.
I'm not used to anyone touching these. It feels... weird.
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Not a bad weird?
( Mithrun can't read expressions and motivation for crock, but he sure can pick up on that particular pattern of slight twitches and shuddering breaths. The wings seem sensitive. He should be more careful.
But, hm... Is sensitive exactly the right word for this? It's not sensitive in a pained, tender way; it seems sensitive like...? He's not sure he has the word for this.
His hands take to the other wing, and this time he lightly traces the costa with his nails to seek scratches and marks, a nail digging in lightly to check for splinters. One hand to keep the wing steady, and the others to gently work out the splinters. The texture of it felt strange at first, but now he's getting used to it. )
... Are the transparent parts fragile?
( He isn't so sure. Butterfly wings and housefly wings are so delicate it's better off not touching them, but Barrett's are much bigger. )
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Its twin reacts similarly, the same involuntary vibration against Morgan's touch as he first starts to adjust it, as he first starts to brace, as he first starts to drag the pressure of his nails. Each earns a shudder, the latter bringing gooseflesh up along the redhead's arms as he lets out a deep exhale.]
Uh... I think it's more delicate than the rest of me. That's what it feels like. But it's not, um... [One of his hands runs against his neck, another long breath out.] It's not like tissue paper. Things can touch it and it doesn't hurt or break.
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... I see...
( He thinks he's gotten any splinters out of this wing, and he lets his fingers linger there, studying his work. Then, once he's satisfied... he lets his fingers drift down along the black veins, tracing along them as he feels transparent wing beneath his finger, feeling every bump and groove. )
... It feels strange. But not in a bad way. ( He rubs a juncture where two veins meet and curve with his thumb, curiously. ) ... I like your wings.
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faint but steady, only slightly warmed beyond chitin stuctures.]
M-mn. Thanks. I, um...
I didn't think they would feel like this when I picked them. The same with my horns. It's... different.
[His fingers curl loosely against his own neck, letting his nails drag softly against the skin as a distraction.]
When you touch them gently like this... it feels kind of nice.
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His fingers cascade down from the midpoint of the wind down to its bottom edge, his fingers curling down on either side of it, nails lightly brushing against his transparent membrane - up to the wing's base, as he leans in, up against the freshly de-splintered part of Barrett's upper back, so he can so lightly run the fingers on of his other hand along Barrett's horns - from the base at his hair, drifting up along the length - just as curious. )
... Does this feel nice, too?
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While he can steel himself through the sensation through his back, the sudden press of skin to skin and the sudden sensation from where his scalp meets his horns gets Barrett to inhale sharply.
A hand immediately whips up to grab at Morgan's wrist against the curve of his horn. His ears have gone completely red, as has his face and parts of his neck.]
I-I... um...
[Swallowing is suddenly so difficult. His throat feels tight, his voice a little rougher.]
Yes. A lot. But...
I don't think this is a good idea, Morgan.
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