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

[insinning]

Maybe we should try other root towns. Or jump through some dungeons again.

[Maybe they should go back to the ??? town? That's there the whispers of someone dying horribly were first heard after all]

[ophidie]

I wouldn't even know where to start with area dungeons. Unless there's something giving you a narrower inkling... There have to be at least two dozen with a forest inside a volcano, even if we went with that.

[It seems like a fool's errand, even given all the time in the world, to run themselves ragged and even possibly occasion a repeat of what's already happened.]

Did you see that post on the forums about the sprites?

[insinning]

The one Uta made?

[He folds his arms over his chest, frowning]

We were part of the same mission--even though we ended up separated with different tasks. It's unsettling, isn't it...? My previous armor set didn't feel cursed. But this one...

[He hates it]

[ophidie]

[He doesn't need to say what he's thinking. The slow buildup of words, the body language, conveys the sentiment all the same. There are these small bursts of energy from Vogel sometimes, like before, that inspire pause.]

I can't say I've enjoyed my time with mine, either. [For Miharu, it isn't the worst - just another cut on a rapidly accumulating tally of a thousand.]

I don't think I realized you were there, too. Do you think they scrubbed anything out of the ordinary from that new town?

[insinning]

[He keeps his arms folded, as if to calm himself. If he reads anything in Scitlasis' pause, he doesn't react to it]

Aside from the name and the history?

[ Actually, now that he remembers]

...the mecha grunty I was helping to clear the mist mentioned something odd. A flick-reaper wielding a twin blade had attacked him, stopping him from fixing the town.

[ophidie]

[Hm, we don't like that. She wrinkles a little bit in displeasure - the nameless root town has not been her favorite, for reasons that are perhaps obvious -but they can wander without purpose over dozens of areas, or they can travel there.]

A twin blade? On the scythe? [There's a little crackle of judgment in her voice. It sounds like someone trying a little too hard to be dark and edgy.]

I don't think I've seen a weapon like that in play. Lots of things never before scene associated with the discovery of that root town.

[insinning]

I didn't get to actually check - every time I asked a question, the mecha grunty looked like he was going to explode. Or something.

[They can keep wandering without purpose. They can put together all these seemingly meaningless little actions]

But it seemed like they meant the weapon of an actual Twin Blade.

[ophidie]

That's too bad. Probably better you didn't push it, though. [Both the grunty and whatever presence (sprites, they'd said?) had passed on the information about the armor sets were either frightened of or cowed by something.]

An Adept Rogue? But that's not how they work, either, is it? Seems like there are a lot of things that aren't working as intended.

[insinning]

No, Adept Rogues take on the role they mimic, but aren't as strong.

[He exhales softly, as they walk around aimlessly? Looking at water sources. What was Mithrun doing?]

[ophidie]

So I thought.

[This does seem to be a bit aimless, and Miharu certainly wouldn't say that it feels productive, but it's better than being still, ineffective and stupid.]

But if it isn't likely to help us now, then let's put it to the side. Have you stretched lately? [She would recommend sleeping, but she knows how it is when one rests with only their own head for company.]

[insinning]

Stretched...? Um. Not since I woke up...

[He'll listen. He's not completely lost in his thoughts that he can't recognise reason]

[ophidie]

[Since he woke up...? Ah, what time it is? Miharu idly wonders if she'll be showing up to work a total zombie.]

Maybe you should. Passing out with your headset on might mess with your connection.

[insinning]

Mm...[Frowning as he looks at his hands]

...yeah, I've been PK'd before, and woke up on the floor. It'd probably be like that, wouldn't it?

[ophidie]

Mm. [She echoes him. Does her really want to find out just how much one is like the other?]

What's the pop culture definition of insanity, Vogel?

[insinning]

Doing the same thing over and over again, while expecting something different?

[Ah. He sees now. Just a little]

[ophidie]

[He doesn't get a verbal response to that, just a pointed look. The reality, of course, is more complicated. Deviations from the norm teach people things. But no matter what happened to Mithrun, they won't get ahead by diving face-first into the same problem over and over again.]

Listen. Just make sure we have each other added. If anything chances between now and tomorrow, one of us will hear. I'll check the forums before I go to work.

[insinning]

[He nods. There's not much more to be found here today. Maybe tomorrow]

Mm. [He sends a friend request! Please accept]

Thank you. I'll...go back to checking in on things offline. Maybe someone else will hear from him by now.

[ophidie]

[Her friends list is surprisingly anemic, though she's played as long as most of them. Miharu doesn't go looking for people to add, and she isn't the type to send them out after just a dungeon or two.

She accepts the request.]

Do they know to contact you? If someone tries reaching out, you don't want to tie up the lines.

[insinning]

Yeah, they've got my offline number. And email. They should know.

[Or at least, they should be able to get back to Sinclair if he makes himself known. But there are other people to talk to and check in on]