FOR THEY CANNOT DIE ANYMORE, BECAUSE THEY ARE EQUAL TO ANGELS.

[cccorp]

Today, the canals of Mac Anu flow as gentle as they always do, gondolas drifting lazy through the paths of sunlight cut bright across the water. Shops and vendors line the stonework streets along the waterways, a general murmur of NPCs circulating through their preprogrammed business keeping Mac Anu, as always, feeling maybe a little more alive than a real city.

There is one particular bridge that nearly every player's taken at least once, because it connects to a great many other places of interest, and it's wide enough for easy travel. Besides, with the professions update, they've put a fishing spot on the other side of it. NPCs with fishing rods litter the spot in alternating shifts, their laughter mingling with the calls of shopkeeps advertising cheap prices for some simple plants to get started crafting with, and the clink of forks and plates at a restaurant nearby, its customers singing the chef praises.

Below the bridge, a gondolier passes, humming, his gondola drifting along its circuit through the canals, his tune in rhythm with the passing conversation. As he comes out from under it and sails further away, he glances up at the bridge, as if he were expecting something, and he seems to see it. His gaze remains fixed there until, eventually, the water takes him out of sight again.

Today, you might notice that at the base of this bridge, just before your feet, is a red sort of smear.

A little further down the bridge, about a fourth of the way along it, is a person collapsed on the ground. The red trails to him, fallen forward.

You see upon approaching his hand grasping at his throat at the singularly cut sliced deep into his neck. His one good eye wide and unblinking, he is—among all the laughter and conversation on either side of the bridge; in the shadow of the clock tower, which stands a silent witness, the sun at its back—no longer breathing, his body cool to the touch.

Perhaps this could be considered a kindness: for one who failed, time and time and again, to grasp the desire to live, maybe he found some suggestion of it in his last moments, his hand at his throat, his palm smeared with dried blood, a curious anomaly in the deathless Mac Anu. Fragment had, after all, taught him a great many things. Should he not be grateful for one more, no matter how permanent the lesson?

Mithrun is dead.

Comments

[ this is an area run now ]

[tylorific]

Oh, there's a tower.

[ Tylor says as they step through, and he's ready to casually make his way there, Vogel's hand still in his. ]

[insinning]

I forgot what keywords trigger it but...

[Tylor can keep holding his hand until they find monsters ]

[tylorific]

Oh man, Morgan usually knows that kind of thing.

[ It's said in such an offhand way, as if even he doesn't realize that he keeps happily relating things back to Morgan. While hope is still there. ]

I don't normally pay attention to the words.

[insinning]

I wish I asked him about his spreadsheet...

[He exhales slowly as they continue along. They're at the foot of the dungeon now so]

Are you ready?

[tylorific]

Remember to ask him next time.

[ Tylor says it airily, but at Vogel's question he shrugs, suddenly wearing a Japanese middle school uniform. It's too big on him, endearingly so. But this is his special set.

And now he's already walking ahead because he's just used to being the tank. But they're both level 50 and this shouldn't be too hard. ]

Let's go!

[insinning]

Tylor...what are your other classes?

[ Because they can get too far, there are shield men blocking their way.

Mithrun hated these]

[tylorific]

Hm? Oh, reaper and grappler.

[ He stops before using the Lord Partizan ability he'd been planning to try. Instead, he holds up his new Protractor inspired gauntlets with a smile-- ]

But I see, you must want to go first, right? Have you tried Rue Break yet?

[insinning]

Not...yet.

[Sinclair frowns and steps forward to break the stance with Rue Break]

We need more damage than what we can do as Lord Partizans on our own.

[tylorific]

[ Tylor is already taking a bounding step behind from behind Vogel and drawing up out of his slouch. It's as if he'd already trusted that the other would use Rue Break, since Vogel barely finishes his sentence as Rue Basher lands. Off center, protractor gauntlets flying just above Vogel's head and right into the sweet spot of the one whose stance he just broke.

That ups the damage, doesn't it? ]

Oh relax, it's easy to get the angle right with these!

[ He jokes with a little laugh, clacking his gauntlets together. ]

[insinning]

[He wasn't that worried, but that's fine. He readies his polearm, a shiver of revulsion as a whistle sounds in the air as he swings it.

He hates this he hates this he hates this. His white-gold armour, recalling the merriment of Christmas is soaked in blood as he lops off a monster's arm with an easy Thorn Dance.]

As long as you can defend-!

[tylorific]

[ Tylor laughs again. ]

What if I offend instead?

[ He thinks his joke is funny at least, as they crack and dismember their first shield monster. Tylor doesn't have the full damage of a tribal grappler, but he is faster than a full Lord Partizan. Which makes it easier for him to get behind them while they focus Vogel. His arms come up like there is something in them when there isn't.

They aren't in a party, so he calls out cheerily-- ] Duck!

[ And just as he swings his apparently empty hands, there's a flicker where the weapon change is too fast for having gone to his inventory. From gauntlets to a giant ruler with a metal edge that flips out like a compass as it arcs. Rai tornado. Thunder, a noticeable shock to the amount of damage that he slashes across three dark elemental targets at once.

Sorry about all that blood, probably. ]

[insinning]

[Ducking!

It's fine. Sinclair is bringing all the blood on his clothes himself, each stain growing as a monster goes down. He swings his polearm again, gritting his teeth at that infuriating whistle as he slashes down another shield man, the goblin-like creature crumbling under their onslaught. And just as suddenly, it's done. Sinclair pants a little as he straightens]

...I really don't like those monsters.

[tylorific]

Well, then I guess it's a good thing we got them all! Nice job, Chef. You're a really good tank.

[ Tylor is breathing a shade heavier, not quite a pant. But he's predictably all smiles for it as his weapon pops out of existence. There's something cathartic about fighting soulless creatures, even if he's not actively aware of it.

They don't know what they're doing, or if this will even help Morgan at all. But at least it feels like he's doing something. ]

Huh, is that galloping?

[ They don't have much time before the dark horses arrive, the sound of their hooves echoing from above them in the tower. Winding downward and becoming louder. ]

[insinning]

I try.

['Cursed'. Uta had told them what the sprites had told her about the armor. But it's only fitting he keeps the armor on, and lets the whistle of his polearm fuel his anger, simmering so deep in him. There's no one to be angry at right now, so he turns those frustrations to the monsters before them. This is a curse, this whole day has been cursed - what's one more for him to carry?]

Ah. I haven't fought these before.

[But he can crush them either way]

[tylorific]

[ There's a blink when he glances at Vogel; soft concern in the brief moment before their next opponents come into view. But by the time it's almost too late to offer, he grins and offers anyway-- ]

Want to go first again?

[insinning]

Yeah. Let me handle the direct attacks.

[He steps forward again, brandishing but also, adds the potion of luring to himself. Draw the aggro, tank the attacks, hit hard where he can - and then Tylor can sweep through with everything he had]

[tylorific]

You got it, chef.

[ Tylor agrees breezily, letting Vogel start things. He stops to clap at that potion-aggro opening for a beat before he joins in the fray. Predictably he is bored by using the same old attacks over and over again, so some of these centaur looking guys are getting punched and others sliced; peppering them but able to withstand the stray enemy damage. Vogel is still far tankier, but it's clear that Tylor could off tank even for him if needed. ]

[insinning]

[That's fine. They needed more aggro than they needed defense. Sinclair is relentless despite his role, and soon, there are no more of those dark horses left either]

...do you hear anymore?

[tylorific]

Hm.

[ With a hand to his ear, he listens real hard. ]

Nope! But I guess it's not clear yet.

[ Since there hasn't been an alert that they've cleared it.

And so he offers his hand to Vogel, to make their path forward in the dark a little more bearable. It's easy to feel watched from the very beginning, with how their steps echo. Unseen phantom wings linger in the deeper shadows, waiting. ]

[insinning]

...I'm covered in blood.

[Tylor is notably, not. But he takes Tylor's hand anyway. And if his hand is trembling, it's not from the monsters in the dungeon]

[tylorific]

Don't worry, I never liked this uniform anyway.

[ His steps slow, a leisurely park stroll instead of a dungeon. His hand squeezes gently. ]

Do you not like blood?

[insinning]

...no.

[He scans their surroundings, his brow furrowing. Squeezing Tylor's hand in turn.
Wasn't Tylor wearing a school uniform?

That made sense.]

I'm not scared of it. But I don't like seeing it. This armor...my previous one wasn't like this.

[tylorific]

Oh, I see.

[ a beat-- ] What if you reequip it? Whenever I spill stuff, that cleans it up.

[insinning]

...do you remember what Uta said? About these armors?

[He's so tired already. It would be simply smarter to just unequip it and return it to the old one, even if it was too low level]

It's meant to remind me of everything I do. It wont go away, no matter what.

[tylorific]

[ Tylor nods at the question, quietly letting him go on. He did remember, though it had never stopped him from wearing his. Tylor hasn't even noticed how much more endearing he is while wearing it. And his concerned smile is only making it worse. ]

Hey, I'm tanky enough, so you don't have to wear it now if you don't want to. It's alright.

Besides, the dungeon is almost over.