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>>2592467

You rub your eyes and groan. Through the small window, you see that it’s dark outside. “Ugh, what time is it?”

You are inside a small, run-down wooden building beside the shrine. The front of it was an abandoned reception of some sort, which you failed to properly discern a brief moment of intense study. Upon entering there are two rooms, one of them empty and the other a makeshift bedroom. The whole structure is poorly lit, some of the wood has begun to rot, and the air here is thick and suffocating, rich with aether.

“Almost morning,” Syrup replies. She’s using a mortar and pestle while she sits next to you in front of the shrine keeper’s cot.

You did leave a mess.

She had the circles of a century mantis, but her body wasn’t as quick to fix injuries. Before they could fully close, you managed to write down five runes, and that was all you needed to bring her body into a complete stop. A small bit of mercy for her, as she didn’t have to be conscious for the rest of your inscription.

Syrup unravels the bandages that covered the base of her neck and her shoulders. Quietly frowning, she applies some of the paste onto the cuts. Those five runes have been transformed into eight to revert its effects, but the girl has yet to wake up. Instead, she breathes heavily in her sleep, wincing every time she rolls over onto another wound. You don’t know when she’ll wake, but most likely not anytime soon.

The rest of the bandages cover the rest of the ruined circles. You only left a single one behind, one that would keep her alive from the poor job you did. It was modified to make sure the scars wouldn’t heal perfectly. When you look down at your hands, you realize they’re still shaking. This is the first time you’ve done anything like this. The tunneller wasn’t even close. Still, in the end, it worked.

Syrup quietly says, “You should go back to sleep.”

“I think I had enough,” you say, getting up and out of your chair. You stretch, and you hear your joints popping. “...Where’s Touryn?” The last you saw of him was a displeased, almost disgusted face as he walked off somewhere. “Actually, where is everyone?”

“Touryn went into town, Schwartz followed him, and Renith went into the forest.” She doesn’t look at you as she tells you think. She hasn’t said a single word about the girl or what you’ve done, given you probably heard enough.

“I see...”

“Are you going somewhere?” she asks.
>Stay and tend to the shrine keeper.
>Take a walk around Basylen and see if you find Touryn and Schwartz.
>Try to find Renith in the forest.
>Write-in.

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Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=Kaleidoscope+Quest
Twitter: https://twitter.com/hopelessQM

Glossary: https://pastebin.com/HnZX05tJ

All my energy's been sapped away, so I'll be taking it easy.

>>2592471
>Stay and tend to the shrine keeper.

>>2592565
Tend to her

Writing

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Quietly, you crouch beside Syrup, and you put a hand the keeper’s forehead. “No fever.” You didn’t royally screw up anything, you suppose.

You watch as her skin near the fresh runes softly glow. A gap visibly begins to close, sewing itself back together. You wince from the sight.

Syrup says nothing as she wraps new bandages around the girl’s torso. She doesn’t say a word to you, and you don’t say anything back.

You feel as if something’s about to snap from the tension.

You ask, “Are you mad?”

“No,” she replies. Her face is expressionless as ever. You can’t read a thing. That denial seemed pretty angry to you. Maybe you’re just overthinking it.

“I did what I had to,” you say. You’re not sure if that was a good idea, but you felt as if you had to say something. Anything.

“You lied to me,” she says, “You’re not fine. Your eyes...”

“Huh?” You bring a hand up to your face. “What’s wrong? I don’t have a mirror on me, you know.”

“Do your eyes always change color?” She looks at you from the corner of her eyes.

“That’s the first I’ve ever heard of it.” You get up and walk to the window. The light rain outside softly hits the glass, and in the darkness, you can just make out your own face in the reflection. Leaning in, you pry open your eyelids and look carefully.

Shimmering. A whirlwind of colors that swirl endlessly. Only in your left eye.

You pull back, and it stops. “What the hell is this? I haven’t... I haven’t done anything?”

Syrup puts what she was holding down nearby. She asks, “What are you going to do?”

What can you do?
>”The first thing I do when I get back to Ristella is find a doctor or a healer.”
>”I don’t know, what should I do?”
>”You don’t have anything that can make it stop, do you?”
>”Nothing. I don’t feel any different, so...”
>Write-in.

>>2592664
>”I don’t know, what should I do?”
> "When did you first notice my eye had changed?"

>>2592664
>>”I don’t know, what should I do?”> "When did you first notice my eye had changed?"

>>2592680
>>2592712
These things

Writing

You look at her for answers. “I don’t know, what should I do?”

She grips her pestle tightly. “I can remove it if you want me to. I’ll do it quickly.”

“No, no way!” you say, “I’m not losing an eye.” She visibly relaxes, as if you just took a great burden off her shoulders. You choose to not think about the implications. “When did you first notice... this thing with my eye?”

She looks away from you. “Yesterday, when I saw you.” When everyone was camping outside, when she asked how you were doing. “I thought I was seeing things.”

“Back then...? Did I get any of her blood in me? Is that what happened?” You begin to pace around the room, a hand over your mouth. “No, that shouldn’t do anything like this. An infection, maybe a worm?” You shudder.

“It’s not physical. If it was, I think you would be gone by now,” Syrup says, “It’s ethereal. Maybe you made Gaia angry.”

“From what I did to the shrine keeper? That’s insane. Why would they care about something as small as this?” The herbalist opens her mouth to speak, only to stop herself and grow quiet. “Maybe I should cover it up with something...” For a moment you think about getting an eyepatch, and then you frown at its unsightliness.

“It stopped, so...” she mumbles.

“Ah.” You stop yourself from frantically walking around. You must’ve been unnerving her. Forcing yourself to calm down, you make your way over to the window again and take another look. There’s a soft current, like a drop of ink carried off by a river, and then it returns to normal, as if nothing ever happened. “What...? I guess I’m okay now? I guess... it was nothing after all.”

Syrup doesn’t give you an answer, but you weren’t looking for one anyways. You don’t know what to do, and you don’t want to think about it right now. Pushing the problem into the back of your mind, you turn around to face the unconscious faerie girl instead.

Soft breathing in what’s otherwise utter silence is all you hear for the next long stretch of time. Your eyes begin to shut on their own, and ever so slowly, you begin to drift off again.

Then, the girl lets out a faint sound as she stirs. You freeze. You didn’t bind her down; you had no reason to, but right now, a part of you regrets it. Uncertainty begins to overwhelm your thoughts as the shrine keeper sits up, rubs her eyes with her wrists that extend into long scythes, and takes a look at you. Something clicks inside her brain, and her eyes go wide.

She cries out as she jerks back away from you, scampering into the corner in fear.

You softly say, “Calm down, I won’t do anything,” and after a moment of thinking, you add, “Sorry about earlier.” She snarls and jabs forward when you try to take a step forward. You pull back, as you enjoy having all of your appendages. “How are you feeling?”

She doesn’t say a word. The way she’s acting makes you wonder if you made a mistake.

[1/2]

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>>2592793

The two of you are at a standstill. Which means you’ll have to leave it to someone else.

Syrup, the only other person in this room to have yet to irreparably damage their relationship with the shrine keeper, grabs something and extends a hand forward to give it to her. She puts it onto the floor, and you discover it’s a plum. “Are you hungry?”

Without delay, the shrine keeper lunges forward to snatch the fruit. She noisily devours it with her blades awkwardly holding it up to her mouth. When she’s eating, you notice how her teeth are much sharper than you’d expect. You watch her eat silently as Syrup offers plum after plum, and after the fifth and final one, the shrine keeper curls up into a ball and tries to make herself as small as possible in the corner. Her feet are constantly pushing against the floor as if she’s trying to phase through the wooden walls.

You hope she hasn’t actually regressed mentally. “Look, I won’t hurt you.” You raise your hands to show you have nothing in them. “See? I won’t do anything.”

“Get away from me,” she spits. Her pupils are shrunken, and she glowers at you. “Why is it so quiet? What did you do to me?”

“I cut you off from the eidola... mostly. Isn’t it clearer?” you take a small step forward.

She hisses unsteadily. “I hate this. It’s too quiet.” Then, much quieter, she says, “I feel like I’m missing part of me.” A pause, and then, “Why?”

Realization dawns on you. There’s a sinking feeling as you begin to think that you’ve done something unforgivable. You have to prove otherwise. You have to prove to yourself you were right. Because if you don’t...

“Faeries can’t survive outside aether too long, and hearing being forced to listen to it constantly, it must’ve been maddening. You would’ve lived here leashed to this town, and if this stream in this shrine disappeared, you would’ve been forced to move with it.“ For you, that’s unfathomable, but maybe you made a mistake. When she doesn’t say anything, you find yourself unsure whether to continue or not. “I’m Circe,” you say for the second time. You turn to Syrup, and when she doesn’t introduce herself, you do it for her. “And this is Syrup.”

With her mouth covered by her arms over her knees, she mumbles, “I’m the Keeper.”

“...That’s an occupation,” you say.

“That’s what everyone calls me,” she says. “That’s what a name is, isn’t it?”

Her glowering only worsens.
>”How long have you been living here?”
>”You /are/ Airin’s daughter, right?”
>”How are you feeling?”
>Ask her something else. (Write-in)

>Write-in.

>>2592902
>"How are you feeling?"
>"How long have you been living here?"

>>2592902
>"If that's what you call yourself, then yes, I suppose it is..."
>”How are you feeling?”
>”You /are/ Airin’s daughter, right?”
>>"Do you remember her?"
>"Do you remember... what happened to the two families in town years ago? Tsubam and Wachid?"

>>2592919
>>2592946
All this

Writing

“If that’s what you call yourself—”

“That’s what they call me,” she repeats, “I don’t call myself anything.”

“I see...” you trail off. “Then, what do you want me to call you by?”

“I don’t care.” She shuts down the topic instantly. A bit of a soft spot, you suppose. Maybe there’s something you can come up with.

Syrup cuts in bluntly. “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts.” She awkwardly shifts around in her corner seat. “And itchy.”

“It doesn’t look like it hurts too much,” Syrup says, “It looks like it worked.” She must’ve been talking about that paste from earlier. You give her a shocked expression, surprised by her brazenness of to test something completely new on the girl. Or maybe testing something on a completely new subject. You don’t want to know, actually.

“Well,” you say, carefully avoiding the shrine keeper’s name, “You are Airin’s daughter, right?”

She snarls at you, and you notice you stepped on a landmine. “What do you want?”

You almost flinch. “I just wanted to know if you remembered her.”

In a much more subdued manner, she replies, “Of course I do. How can I forget?”

“Then, do you remember... what happened to the two families in town years ago? Tsubam and Wachid?”

A long pause, and then a short bit of weak laughter escapes from her lips. “I remember.” You frown when you think she isn’t about to continue and you have to continue prodding her, but she adds, “We ate them.”

“...What?” It takes a second for it to register in your mind.

She answers in whispers directed more to herself than you. “I think I had... six brothers and seven sisters...?” Then, much louder, she says, “They’re gone now, too.”

You imagine it. Innumerable scythes bursting out, then spilling through the houses, devouring everything. They must’ve grown exponentially with the aether, not naturally. And with every unwitting person mowed down, they kept growing.

“I didn’t want to forget how she read us stories.” The shrine keeper wears a bitter, toothy grin while staring off into the distance. “So I saved a piece of Mother.”

[1/2]

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>>2593015

If Syrup was shaken by any of this, she doesn’t show it. She listens intently without a word.

You turn to look back at the shrine keeper, and she says, “What? Do you have something to say?” She seemed almost offended at your surprise.

“Then... how did you get here? How long have you been living here?”

She thoughtfully looks out the window. “There used to be someone else here. She found me and hid me. I don’t know how long though, I’m not keeping track.” The shrine keeper taps on the floor with a scythe. A small beat, maybe to help her remember, or maybe to stop her anxiety. “She told me how to talk and read a little.”

Syrup asks, “Did she return to Gaia too?”

“Uh... yes?” the girl is unsure of what she’s talking about, “I ate her.”

You’re about to leap out and undo your decision before tonight. “Are you serious?”

Scared, she starts backing into the corner again. “W-what? She was already gone! She was kind of stale, kinda like how you look, so it wasn’t that good.” She blinks. “W-why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” you say, trying to stop yourself from balling your hands into fists.

“Aah!” She starts panicking. “I-I meant you look delicious! Really yummy! No, I meant... I... P-please don’t hurt me!”

“I don’t want to hear either of that! Just, stop talking about it, please! And I’m not going to hurt you!”

This is the worst conversation you’ve ever had in your entire life. Even learning about nepenthes sac digestion was more pleasant.

Syrup begins walking to the doorway. “I’ll find some more plums.” She stops for a moment, and asks, “Will you be okay?”

“I can handle myself,” you huff.

Taking that as a yes, she walks out.

You look back at the shrine keeper, who says, “W-what?”

You sigh.
>Talk about the diary.
>Ask what she does around here for fun.
>Talk about something completely unrelated in hopes she’d calm down.
>Write-in.

>Ask her something. (Write-in)

>>2593080
>Ask what she does around here for fun.
>Does she get visitors often?
>Talk about the diary.
>>It was her mother's, so rightfully it belongs to her.
>>Does she want to read it?
>>Or would she rather it be returned to her mother's grave?

By the way, Hopeless, do we know who the Keeper's father is? Her mother had a husband, but also a lover after all. Or was she more born from the curse her mother set and doesn't have a traditional father?

>>2593113
>all this

Based on the time frame, Circe could deduce the husband was the father, but if you were to ask Syrup, she'd answer that she only had the previous shrine keeper as the mother role and no father, as Gaia is the one who gave soul and life to the current Keeper.

Writing

You walk back and sit down on a chair from its side, not directly facing the shrine keeper. You don’t want to scare her even more. Also, you have to wait until she’s fully fine and everyone wanders back, and you haven’t got a clue as to when that would be.

“So...” you start to say, “What do you do for fun around here?”

“...Finding food is fun.” You turn around, piqued. That sounds familiar. “I like to run after them and play around a bit before I eat,” she answers. Oh. “And when the voices get too loud, I like to sweep. It calms them down. What... what about you?”

“Uh...” You weren’t expecting for her to turn the tables on you. Thinking about it for a moment, you compose an answer. “I like to read, learn things, and... meddle, I guess.” You don’t dare say the conclusion that you and Syrup came to back then. “I guess I’m boring. Runes and spell circles aren’t that exciting.”

“You... do this for fun?” she says, giving you a horrified expression. She’s clearly talking about your runes that you inscribed on her.

“Luna damned, no. That’s just how I make a living, I guess.” You try to wipe the annoyance off your face. You need to change the subject. “Do you get visitors often?”

“Not really,” she replies, “Only old people go here. People don’t really pray anymore... I think. That’s what they told me anyways.”

“I’d be surprised if they did,” you mumble.

“I was surprised when you showed up. So many people...” She stretches out her legs, finally beginning to show signs of leaving her safety corner. “...Where are your friends?”

You shrug.

[1/2]

>>2593157

“I mean, lots of people come here sometimes too. I think they have special days where something important happens, but I don’t really know about it. I just do what I was told.” She taps her wrists together, almost resembling a clap. “They always bring lots of food! I always eat until I can’t anymore.” She smiles wildly as she recalls the various meats she’s stuffed in her mouth.

Offhandedly, you say, “I think you might get along with someone else.” Before you accidentally throw Syrup to the proverbial wolves, you add, “We didn’t come here for anything like that, though.” Her mood darkens, but you continue. “If there was someone who it would belong to, it would be you.”

“...” The shrine keeper remains quiet, leaving you to wonder if you should continue.

“Do you want to read it? I still have it on me,” you say. It’s sitting in your satchel. You weren’t sure to leave it at the grave or take it with you, but since you weren’t leaving anytime soon, you decided to momentarily save it from the elements. “Or, would you rather it be returned to her grave?”

“...I can’t read it.” Taken aback, you find yourself unable to reply. She says, “I can only read basic things. I tried reading it, but it had a lot of big words. But... it smelled like her. I hate how I feel when I remember it, but... I want to keep it.” You wonder if she hates what she’s done or if it’s something else.

“...Maybe I should fix the runes again.”

“The runes?” She tilts her head. You explain to her what the glyphs on the book do, and she says, “If you fix the runes, we can’t read it?”

“Right. And repeatedly fixing them and destroying them would only ruin the diary.”

“But if you don’t, then the book would be ruined anyway.”

You nod. “Slowly, yes. That’s the passage of time for you.”

“Would you...” Ever so quietly, she asks, “...read it to me?”

You’ll...
>Read it to her.
>Fix the runes.

>>2593188
>Read it to her
>But stay away from the final parts, especially the curse.
>If she wants, we can seal it afterwards.

>>2593194
Read and then seal

Writing

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You think briefly, and then you open your satchel to reach inside. “You won’t go crazy on me, right?”

“No, that was... I was caught off guard,” she replies, her face turning red. “I promise I won’t.”

“Okay,” you smile, “I’ll read it to you. And when we’re done, I’ll seal it up if you want.” Except for the final parts, of course.

A semblance of joy returns to her face, and she approaches you just a bit closer. As you take out the book, you notice her attention is drawn to it fully. You open the book, and you clear your throat.

Taking a deep breath, you read. “I was told that keeping a journal would ease me of some troubling thoughts...”

...

“...He was fair, polite and, to my surprise, very reserved—”

Knocking on open door causes you to stop, and the trance that both you and the shrine keeper were in was broken. At first, she seems annoyed, but when Syrup walked in with a bag full of plums and her clothes a bit wet from the rain.

Renith strolls in behind her. “Oh hey, she’s awake! How ya doin’?”

As the girl rips into the plums, she answers, “Fine, thank you.”

“ ’m surprised, Circe did a real number on ya,” he says, prodding you with an elbow. You glare at in him in response. He ignores you. “You’re a tough one, ehn?”

“Not really,” she says, “I lost to bears before, and they did worse.” Renith winces, but then he gives you a knowing look with his eyebrows. The shrine keeper stops for a second. Under her breath, she says, “It’s kinda nice hearing other people instead of those voices.”

Renith turns his head, “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Thanks for playing, that'll be it for today. Sorry if it was a bit short, but I thought this was a good place to stop. I won't get any sleep tomorrow so I won't be running then, but I'll be back in 2 days, same time.

Also

>Be Circe
>Be Schwartz

>>2593244
>Be Circe
Thanks for running!

>>2593244
>Be Schwartz

Thanks for running, this was comfy. I like this girl and I'm glad she might be starting to warm up to Circe. Also, it's amusing to see Plum Provider has been added to Syrup's ever growing list of titles and that Renith is still riding high on his bear wisdom over us.

>>2593240
Thanks for running!
>Be Schwartz

>>2593244
>Be Schwartz
Thanks for running!

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A short while ago...

The town of Basylen wears its age on its sleeves. Its buildings have the same style that Whitebloom had for hundreds of years, perhaps even a thousand. Even after the war, every newly Loam-built structure was ornate as the previous, the roof patterns and wall designs unchanged. When you saw when you arrived, out the back of the wagon, you could breathe in history.

Your name is Schwartz Verdorrenach, and as you walk through these old streets, you could barely stop yourself from admiring all that’s around you. Your red and black umbrella guards you against the light rain, and ahead of you, Touryn continues unbothered.

“What’s gotten into you?” you chide, “Where are you storming off to?”

“I didn’t ask you to follow me,” he says. You’re not quite sure where he’s headed, nor do you believe he does either. While petrichor fills the air, incandescent light spills out windows of passing by buildings, easily piercing through their thin curtains. He barely pays any attention to his surroundings. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m not one to stop someone who knows what they’re doing. I’ll admit, I was questioning her judgement at first, but it all ended well, didn’t it? She is the one to thank for me still having my head.” You delicately touch the bandage that covers your neck. You’d need to see an arcanist about getting rid of that when you can, or perhaps you need a choker that can hide it.

“The means don’t justify the ends, Schwartz.”

You make an annoyed face, but he doesn’t see it.
>”And what would you have done?”
>”It wasn’t all too bad, all things considered.”
>”It doesn’t, but there isn’t anything that can be done about it now, is there?”
>Write-in.

>”That’s fine and all, but can we sit down somewhere?”
>”And where are you going exactly?”
>”At least slow down, will you?”
>Write-in.

>>2598712
>”And what would you have done?”
>>"Kill the girl? Leave her the way she was and turn a blind eye?"
>>"What Circe did to her may have been cruel, but it was also a kindness."
>”At least slow down, will you?”

>>2598712
Yeah, we're the hot one now.!

>”And what would you have done?”
>”And where are you going exactly?”

>>2598749
>>2598752
All this. And combining the second part, I guess.

>>2598752
I wheezed

Writing

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“And what would you have done?” You try and match his pace, walking to his side instead of behind him. Then, you see his hardened eyes. “Would you have killed the girl, or would you have simply left here there?”

“She was enjoying her life. Leaving her be would have been best option. No one asked for a witch’s help,” he replies.

“And how would you know? What Circe did to her may have been cruel, but she also did her a kindness. Were you not listening to her? A faerie’s life is at the mercy of the world’s aether. There’s nothing but suffering waiting for her,” you say. Huffing, you add, “I don’t take kindly to what witches do, but I can hardly the atrocity you make it out to be.”

“Why are you defending her?” he asks. “If she didn’t want the girl to suffer, she could’ve killed her. And if she couldn’t I would have done it for her, quick and painlessly.” You almost let out a dismayed gasp. “She would, without a doubt, have been reborn with a better life.”

“I can’t believe you would say that so lightly. What happened to the words of encouragement you gave her before?”

He glances at you for a moment. “What about them?”

“Circe may have forgotten, but I haven’t. Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you practically hiss.

He takes a deep, unsteady breath in, as if trying to calm himself. “And that is precisely why I’m taking a walk before my emotions get the best of me. If I didn’t know her, I would’ve cut her down right there and then.”

He speeds up, as if he wants to leave you behind.

[1/2]

>>2598831
Okay, I don't understand anything. What's so heinous in what Circe did?

>>2598831

You do your best to not shout. “You did not say what I heard you say.”

“A witch’s occupation revolves enslaving faeries, and she carved up a person, no less. What kind of a human would practice an art built on the act of torture? I have every right to be angry. And I haven’t even said a thing about how this is nothing short of violating the domain of the gods.” He finishes his tirade, and he looks away so you can’t see his face. He breathes heavily. “Sorry, I went too far with that line, about...”

“I’ll pretend I never heard a word,” you reply. “In any case, are you done? Calmed down yet?”

He waits for a moment, as if checking himself over. “Haven’t quite gotten it out of my system yet. You should head back.”

“And leave you alone? What if you were to do something boneheaded? And where are you going exactly?” you say. The rain’s beginning to stop. “Planning to walk to Kowal or Qualen? Or are you taking a lap around the town?”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” he replies.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, at least slow down.” You’re almost running by now, but after a second, he slows down. You find yourself relieved and thankful that he still has somewhat of a heart in him. “Truth be told, I was a little outraged too, until I saw you yelling at the poor girl.’

“I wasn’t yelling. I was perfectly calm.”

You frown. “Well, you were being calm very loudly. At least, can you apologize when you return?”

“For what?”

Scoffing, you say, “Unbelievable.”

He mumbles, “I’ll think about it.”
>Head back.
>Accompany him.
>Write-in.

Having a bit of a writer's block

>>2598857
For one, anasthesia isn't commonplace in this world. Rarely would one need surgery when magic can do the trick.

>>2598929
>>Accompany him.

>>2598982
Accompany

Writing

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You decide to accompany him for now. Heavens know what he’d get himself into.

As you walk down the streets with the swordsman, the two of you pass by the countless shops that color the center of Basylen, enjoying how the sounds of the city grow smaller and smaller. Eventually, the lights turn dim and become nothing at all.

You break the silence first. “I’m curious; for someone who hates witches, why do you follow her?”

“It’s a job, and it’s only temporary. I did warn her about my... inclinations, though,” he answers. By now, the rain has stopped completely, and you close your umbrella. “I didn’t think anything like this would happen. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect the opposite, actually. What about you? Why were you so excited for this whole thing?”

“I spent my time growing up cooped up in a room. Naturally, I would want to make up for all the time lost. Wouldn’t you feel the same?” You think audibly, “That, and I do have to make sure the diary is returned properly. Oh, don’t think I distrust any of you. After all, what else would you do with it?”

“You never know,” he says, “I’ve seen some crafty scavengers before.”

As you continue walking to nowhere in particular, you see two people standing by an open doorway. Passing by, you hear a conversation going on. It wasn’t particularly loud, but in the quiet night, you can make out their words enough to understand what was happening.

“Have you heard? Queen Thyra’s dead!”

“What? No, stop messing with me.”

“It’s true! My son in Ristella told me all about it. It’s real!”

“Damn, don’t they have the worst luck. What’s Aldrose going to do now?”

“Word is that another war’s about to break out. Those nobles are itching for one.”

You pass them, and their words are lost with the distance. You glance over to Touryn, seeing what he thinks about it, and with only a hard expression to read on, you assume that he didn’t even hear it at all.

Then, he says, “I see news have arrived.”

Surprised, you ask, “You knew?”

“Maybe.”

You laugh. “You might as well say yes, because I haven’t the faintest clue how that could be interpreted otherwise.”

[1/2]

>>2599106

Touryn asks, “How long do you plan on staring at that for?”

“Well I can’t help it if it’s this fascinating,” you reply. You circle around the statue of... something. It appears to be petrified pieces of steel, joined together and mangled, almost bearing the resemblance of an Elphratian automaton. Pieces of glass are carefully shaped into small domes, held down by golden plates screwed down. Inside, countless thin sheets of steel interlock with each other, the spell circles drawn on almost completely weathered away. Its function is impossible to determine.

However, the plaque at the base of the strange object does help.

“Meteorite Called from the Laonmu Plains,” you read out loud. “Is that so?”

“Is it a statue if it’s been transformed into stone?” muses Touryn. With his arms crossed, he leans against a nearby tree.

“I don’t believe so, but isn’t this strangely advanced? The date reads near the end of the war.”

“It’s just a tourist attraction,” he says, waving any other thoughts away. “And what’s with them calling it a meteorite? Is it because it came from the sky?” He just shakes his head. “Forget it.”


Ever so slowly, he starts walking away, as if urging you to leave with him. Giving the strange object one last look, you part ways with it. The two of you continue your way back to the shrine when something flies above you. It appears and disappears with complete silence, and in its talons, there seems to be a rolled-up paper. You forget all about it quickly.

When the road you walk in becomes a dirt path, you see someone patrolling up ahead, in front of the steps up to the shrine. Soon, it becomes clear it’s the monkey-boy. He takes a look at the two of you, and then he looks away, pacing around.

You say out loud, “Oh, you’ve returned too. Is everyone here?”

He stops. He doesn’t say anything, nodding instead. His tail stands on end, and you wonder if it has always been this particularly fluffed.

“Well then, shall we hurry up? I’m sure Circe must be worried, seeing as how we left her behind so suddenly.”

Touryn doesn’t say anything, but as he gets to the base of the stairs, Renith is still walking around, distraught. Then, he meanders into the shrubs and greenery beside the stairs, disappearing behind it.

You mumble, “How peculiar. I mean, more than usual.”

Touryn watches for a moment, and then he shrugs.
>Leave him alone.
>Go after Renith.
>Write-in.

>>2599201
>Call after Renith, ask if something is wrong.
>Go after Renith.

>>2599224
Call and go after

Writing

File: renith.png (871 KB, 1084x1500)

871 KB PNG

“What was his name again?” you mutter to yourself, “Oh, right. Renith, is something wrong? You’ve missed the stairs by a few paces.” You stand there, each foot on a different step, and after there is no reply, you repeat, “Renith?”

Touryn puts a hand on his belt where his scabbard is. Slowly, he backs down. You begin to walk to where Renith disappeared. Behind Touryn, of course, seeing as he’s the one who is armed. Touryn takes his sword with his scabbard off, and using it, he parts the leaves and branches before he walks ahead.

He says, “Hey, stop messing around—”

A shadow pounces out and pushes Touryn down, and instantly, you make the shape out to be Renith. He doesn’t have his spear; instead, he pins Touryn’s arms down. The swordsman, one hand on the hilt of his sword, swings it down to unsheathe the blade. It stops halfway, interrupted by Renith’s tail. With a bit of effort, he pushes the scabbard all the way back, and leaping off of Touryn, he grabs the sword with a bestial grin and jumps away. You cry out as you realize he’s headed your way.

Roll 1d30, bo3
DC: 20
>Duck out of the way.
>Try to grab him.
>Block the path.
>Write-in.

Rolled 10 (1d30)

>>2599302
>>Duck out of the way
What is this monkey business!?

Rolled 30 (1d30)

>>2599319
Rerolling

File: smug satania.jpg (103 KB, 779x634)

103 KB JPG

>>2599327
Amazing

Writing

File: 1522886883510.jpg (201 KB, 1080x1920)

201 KB JPG

>>2599328
Schwartz has super secret lightning fast reflexes, apparently

Seeing someone of that stature barreling at you is all you need to make the decision of not getting in the way. You jump back instantly, pushing past the branches violently before he slams into you. Quickly ducking out of the way, you see out of the corner of your eye the branch swing backwards, smacking Renith right in the face.

Suddenly, he explodes into a puff of smoke as he falls backwards, and emerging from it, a creature a fourth the size of a person leaps out, the sword in its mouth. With four black legs and a body full of fur, it zips past you.

Ah, “It’s a mimic!” you blurt out. You’ve heard stories about these things terrorizing the countryside, but this is the first time you’ve seen one in person.

Touryn, sputtering curses, sprints after it. It takes you a second for you to compose yourself and follow suit. The mimic dashes down the roads, and when Touryn comes close enough for it to be within arms reach, it suddenly changes directions. The swordsman tumbles to the ground and picks himself up, but the mimic has already gained its distance back.

“Solaria damned, get back here!”

Roll 1d30, bo3
DC: 20
At this rate, it’s going to get away with his sword!
>Give Touryn your umbrella to use as a weapon.
>Try to go a different route to cut the mimic off.
>Shout and try to get any bystanders to help.
>Write-in.

Rolled 18 (1d30)

>>2599359
>Try to go a different route to cut the mimic off.
Here's hoping that this works. Don't fail me now, dice.

Rolled 6 (1d30)

>>2599359
>>Try to go a different route to cut the mimic off

Rolled 11 (1d30)

Reroll?

File: 1479173537008.jpg (21 KB, 230x316)

21 KB JPG

>>2599363
>>2599367
>>2599376
18

Writing

You stop running. If you keep going like this, it’ll be a complete waste of time. Touryn’s faster than you, and all you’re doing is following them. Taking notice of your surroundings, you begin heading down a different street. If you’re lucky, you can cut it off from wherever it’s running to. You run down the quiet street, glancing to your side every now and then to see the roads intersect and the two run past. You may have picked the wrong side when the mimic turns, or even if it turns at all, but it’s far too late for indecision and regrets!

Closed stores and doors pass by one after the other, in between two of them an alleyway blurs by. You instantly stop in your tracks, almost falling over as you run back and check. There, the mimic hops over junk sprawled over the ground and down the alleyway at you. It sees you, and it hesitates for a second. When Touryn turns the corner and begins to close in, the mimic runs at you anyways.

Widening your stance, you prepare to grab it. You tense up as the distance decreases, and when its almost upon you, you prepare yourself. Except instead of attempting to run to the side or under your legs, it jumps onto a wall and kicks off of it, trying to soar over you. You’re shocked for a moment, but you reach as far as you can and grab!

You feel its fur with one hand, and it slips past your grip. With your other, you swing and hit something solid. The crossguard of the sword connects your wrist, and the mimic is forced to twist its head. It spins and crashes onto the ground, its mouth closed down on the scabbard, and with the momentum of when your arm collided, the sword was sent out and onto the ground. The mimic begins to move toward it, but when it sees Touryn catching up, it growls and scampers away.

He picks up his blade. Instead of continuing the chase, he activates the runes instead. You instantly grab his arm.

“Stop it! Be mindful of what’s around you for heaven’s sake.”

And with that delay, the mimic goes around the corner of a house and vanishes. Touryn and you follow. After turning the corner, it’s clear that it has completely disappeared. Touryn starts to move as if he’s going to run around to find it anyways, but after realizing he lost his chance, he sighs. He tries to find something to say, only to visibly give up instead. Slowly, he trudges back in the direction of the shrine.

“Thanks,” he mutters to you. “At least I only lost the sheath.”

The entire way back, he was sulking, cursing the faerie under his breath.

[1/2]

>>2599412

You are Circe, apprentice of Professor Mog and witch-in-training. Although after all this, you suppose you are officially a witch now. You stand outside the shrine, looking down the steps.

Renith says, “Hey, ya heard that?”

“That sounded like Schwartz,” you say. “I don’t see them though.”

He frowns. “Ah, almost forgot. There’s one of those face stealers around the forest. Be careful, eh?”

“A mimic...? You make them sound so ominous.” You take another glance down the empty steps before you walk away.

There are two flowerbeds around the shrine, forcibly separated by the fact that the steps to the shrine needed to actually lead in. Rather than a variety of flowers, only a single blue, five-leafed plant fills it, as if it overtook the small garden. You saw them as you walked in, and now, Syrup is examining them deeply. She crouches by one of the beds, a hand gingerly on one of the flowers. The shrine keeper watches her while she sweeps at a single spot pointlessly.

You think out loud. “There’s sure a lot of these flowers.”

The shrine keeper nods. Hesitantly, it takes her a while to get out what she wanted to say. “One of the few things I remember... is that mother had a vase of these by her bed. They were so pretty. When I found some around here, I was happy because I could plant them all over.”

“Myosotis sylvatica,” Syrup says, “Don’t eat them.”

The shrine keeper shakes her head. “They don’t taste very good.”

You groan. “You tried?” She weakly laughs, and you turn your attention to the plants. Even in Luna’s light, they’re vivid. “Sylvatica... Silvia...?”

She tilts her head. “Circe?”

Offer a name?
>Silvia.
>Keeper is fine.
>Something else. (Write-in)

>>2599480
>Silvia.
Why not. It's a good name.

>>2599480
>Silvia
Hmm... to be honest I think Keeper sounds cooler, but eh, Silvia is nice.

>>2599489
>>2599491
Silvia

>>2599491
>Keeper sounds cooler
It looks like only goats get to be cool, not century mantises.

Writing

>>2599510

>Reminding me of GFQ
;_;

“How about... Silvia?” you ask her. A soft breeze blows through the shrine path, and she stands there, staring at you.

“Silvia...?” She repeats, letting the word roll around in her mouth.

“How’s that for a name?” you clarify, “Silvia, like the name of that flower.” She thinks it over, her eyes going to the flowerbed. “Or... do you prefer me to call you Keeper?” you say, beginning to doubt yourself.

What feels like an eternity passes, and then, she says “Silvia... I like it! Then, that’s my name now.”

“Nice to meet you, Silvia,” you say, lightly laughing. She happily sweeps the road, almost doing a dance. You watch her enjoy the moment, and soon, you’re distracted by footsteps. Turning around, you see that Touryn and Schwartz has returned. There’s a knot in your stomach as you brace yourself to see the former again. You wonder if he’s still angry.

Renith, completely ignoring your tension, greets them. “Ya guys are back! Guess everyone’s here now.” Renith smiles while Touryn moodily walks past him. A bit surprised and a bit wounded, he says to Schwartz, who follows after, “What’s gotten into him?”

“Long story short, he lost his scabbard,” she answers.

Your eyes dart around as Touryn begins to approach you. No, he approaches the shrine behind, but he stops as he’s about to pass by you.

“Sorry about earlier,” he says. “I was out of line.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say, feeling yourself stop being so tense. You look at him, and he finally makes eye contact with you. “No hard feelings, right?”

“I hope not,” he says. There’s a small smile, and you wonder if his hopes align with reality. “It looks like the shrine keeper’s up. I guess it’s time to go, right?”

Ah, he’s right.
>”I guess we are.”
>”...Hey, are you okay?”
>”At least you said something instead of bottling it up.”
>Say something to him. (Write-in)

>Write-in.

>>2599564
>”I guess we are.”

>>2599564
>”I guess we are.”
>”...Hey, are you okay?”

>>2599569
>>2599577
Nothing

>>2599577
Something

These dialogue options were actually exclusive to one another.

>>2599514
I mourn daily.

Writing

File: Spoiler Image (177 KB, 523x743)

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>>2599597
>spoiler
A drawfriend on /i/ drew this for me a little while ago.

File: watching.jpg (52 KB, 500x650)

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“I guess we are,” you say. He gives you a small nod, and he walks back to the building with the bedroom. Schwartz follows, seeing as how she left her luggage there. As you watch his back disappear behind the door and hallway, you wonder if he was okay.

He was distraught, but for some reason, you doubt it was because of his sword. His thoughts were elsewhere, and maybe, that was the reason why he even got so frustrated with you. Still, you thought even if you asked, the scabbard would’ve been what he’d answer you with. For all the days you’ve spent with him, you know nothing about him.

And he knows barely anything about you, so you think.

As you stand in the shrine path, listening to the stillness of the night, you wonder...
“Are you leaving?” You turn around to see Silvia looking at you, waiting for a reply.

“Ah... right. I am. I was only visiting—”

“What about the diary?” she says. Your gaze shifts down to your satchel and the book inside, and you’re about to reach in and take it out. A thought forms, that you should stay until you’ve read it all, but... “Then it’s decided. I’ll follow you, then.”

“...Huh?” You look up to see a girl who isn’t about to take “no” for an answer.

“You said I can leave now, right? I’m not leashed to aether anymore, so I can go wherever. And since you have to fulfill your promise, I’ll go with you.”

When did it become a promise? “What about the shrine?” you ask. “Aren’t you the only one taking care of it?”

“They can find someone else,” she says, “And it’s not like I do a good job anyways. And I don’t care what they think—”

“Okay, okay,” you say, “You’re free to come with me. On one condition though: you can’t eat me.”

“No promises!” she says, beaming. Uh oh.

With your mind taken away from your uncertainty with Touryn, something new catches your attention. It sweeps through the sky silently and descends just as you notice it. It stops on the railing of the shrine, and you watch it carefully. Seemingly, it beckons you over.

Step by step, you get closer to it, and as you draw close, you wonder where you’ve seen it before. What is waiting for you is an owl, and in its talons is a rolled-up paper. It extends a leg when you come close enough, and you receive it gently.

It says nothing, only watching carefully as you unroll it. There, you read the lines of poorly drawn sentences. The pressure on the quill that was used is erratic, and the texture overlaying the letters showed whatever surface it was written in was uneven and rough.

A letter from Mog, that has somehow reached you, sent from a dungeon.

Your eyes widen as you approach the end, and when you finish, you glance up from the piece of paper. The owl gives you a small sound of acknowledgement, and it flies off before you can even entertain the thought of asking it anything.

As Schwartz leaves the small house, she sees you and asks, “What’s wrong?”

You reply, “We need to go back. Now.”

File: 46927889_p4.jpg (361 KB, 641x799)

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Thank you for playing! Next time on Wednesday or Thursday. Or Friday. No idea, but we'll see.

I'm here for any comments, questions, or concerns. Criticism is appreciated, too.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/hopelessQM

>>2599638
Nice, this is great.

>>2599654
Thanks for running!

>>2599654
Thanks for running Hopeless, it was fun as always. Back when Schwartz accidentally pulled the sword out of the sheathe I was half afraid she was going to get stabbed with it. Glad that didn't happen!

>>2599654
Thanks for running!

File: DdDwwPiUQAAVfFQ.jpg:orig.jpg (187 KB, 768x1024)

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Elsewhere...

Water from a faucet fills up the sink as a bundle of cloth blocks the drain. Before it overflows, someone shuts it off and gently lays down a thin spell sheet atop the water, the circle drawn on it so detailed and complex that it was impossible for most to decipher. Luckily, things like that aren’t important. She didn’t need to know how to read it; she just needed to know what it did.

The thin paper dissolves, and ripples begin to form in the water. She waits, but no image forms. Minutes pass, and she taps a foot on the ground. When nothing continues to happen, she snarls and crosses her arms.

“It should be time. Don’t tell me... he forgot?!”

As if someone was listening, an image begins to appear in the water.

“Hello?” a voice calls out. It’s muddy and murky, and so is the picture. The room on the other side is dark, and the ripples aren’t helping at all with visibility. From the other side, a boy crouches in front of a puddle, staring down.

“You’re... 7 minutes late! I thought something happened to you!” She tries to be quiet, resulting in a strange whisper-yell. “What did we agree on about being on time?”

“Sorry,” He gives her a mischievous smile. “I got distracted. Hey, check out what I found.” Viyon squints as she puts her face up to the water, barely making the boy tossing something in his mouth, past his fangs. With his mouth full, he says, “They have a snack room!” He munches on another butterfly wing.

She puts a hand on each side of the sink, leans close, and shouts, “You moron, that’s a witch’s workshop! Hiyon, stop eating that already!”

“Eh? Why would a beloved be a witch? Is your head okay?” He noisily chews with his mouth open.

“The crow probably hired a witch or something, I don’t know. Don’t you see the circles on those things?”

“Not really.” Suddenly, Hiyon makes a disgusted face. Using his hand, he reaches inside his mouth, picks out a saliva-covered leaf, and drops it on the floor. “Eurgh, veggies.” He looks at Viyon, and then he sulkily growls. “Hey, I’m hungry. I wanna know what the crow tastes like.”

“Probably not very good, and besides, Papa said you can’t eat him.”

He licks his teeth. “What if I take just a small bite?”

“I’ll tell on you. I’ll tell him you did it!”

Hiyon frowns. “Tattletale.”

[1/2]

>>2605142

He looks away for a moment, reaches out, and returns in disappointment. Clearly, he ran out of snacks. “Oh, I don’t see them here. It’s a little dusty, so I don’t think anyone’s been inside except maybe something small. I think it was a stray animal.”

“That’s because they didn’t go to Ristella,” Viyon says. “I think I can smell the trail they left. You should come here already.”

“Oookay. Maybe later.” He leans in to the puddle, and he squints. “Hey Viyon, there’s something on your face.”

The girl raises a hand, and feeling the wetness, she wipes the splatters of red off. “Oh, thanks.” She dips her finger into the filled sink and washes it, almost waving away the image. “I should get going. I left a mess. I’ll talk to you later. And remember, be on time!”

She pulls the cloth out, and as the spell dissipates, she hears Hiyon reply. “Yeah, yeah. Before you go, can you buy some of those milky candies for me?” Before she can refuse, he disappears.

Rolling down her sleeves, Viyon grumbles to herself. She steps out of the bathroom, giving the trail of blood and three bodies at the end of the hall one last look. They’re torn to shreds, their wounds alternating between clean, as if sliced by a knife, and messy, as if ripped through by teeth. She frowns. She smelled them here, but she couldn’t find them at all. They must’ve left. Stepping over another body, she walks through an open door and out into the streets of Aldrose.

Her nose wrinkling, the girl follows the scent of a bird and a rat, vanishing into the night.

>>2605142
Who the hell is vandalizing our workshop?!
Unforgivable!

>>2605143
A pair of hunting dogs, hug?