>>4002848
As the doll speaks, the sky congeals into a greasy mass around you— oozing, semi-solid clouds smother your skin, crawl between the folds of your frayed coat, criss-cross your body in squirming, densely packed bands. The clouds are not moist, but not quite clammy either, and between them the Glow drills through you. You shiver— violently, uncontrollably— as the sky rotates and twists into itself before your eyes— no. Into your eyes. The automatons, Otto, the Wisp, the Resolute—

A blazing skiff’s nose is embedded into the wall of a train carriage. Inside, the barbed trident has lodged itself into the floor of an ornate bedroom. On the roof, a daughter pulls on her father’s outstretched hand to keep him from plummeting over the edge. A handless girl clings to the man’s back like a child, shying away from the flames of the crackling airship above them—

A streak of golden light ricochets around the chain at kaleidoscopic angles. It pauses dozens of train cars away from the hull of a pirate vessel carved from islandside, angling towards the extravagant mosaic declaring the craft to be the Idle Hands. With a deafening crack, the golden light closes the distance to collide with— no, to obliterate— the mosaic. As the golden being disappears inside the reeling airship, a couple flees from the impending feast—

The entirety of the Endless Sky darts towards your eyes. Gargantuan chains drag landmass after landmass into your retinas, and your irises devour civilizations without so much as a murmur— but you’re screaming. You have no words, but you know you can’t take everything in, your eyes are too small— you’re too small and all you can do is shriek and beg and burn— you’re burning up so brightly from the Glow—

You blink.

The world is as it was. Otto strains to find a position to topple Eonnecte the automaton. The Wisp stabilizes itself, Ronaldo having finally regained control. Amica stands over Violante, grinding the doll’s head further into the deck and its coagulating sap.

The clockwork woman’s head bobs as if it were speaking, but all you can hear is a vague buzz.

You feel faint.

> Well then. Something’s gone wrong.
> They’re manipulating Glow frequencies. Those damn Autonomous Surveyors.
> I’ll need to ensure they’re reformatted when they return, they’re mutating a psuedo-consciousness too quickly…
> Oh, you’re still here?
What… What’s happening?
> No. Not you. Yes, before you ask, your daughter’s fine.
I’m going to look for her. All of this, it’s too much for her, I… It’s my duty as a Halcyon of Villaltia to keep her safe...

> [Cont.]

>>4002855
[The Pernicious Priest]

Something knocked you prone, interrupted your sermon, made a fool out of you….

The sound of shrieking metal jolts you awake. The soft light of your holy icon’s shimmering Glow barrier separates you from a dark haze. Outside your shield, you see the train car’s walls are pulverized and reduced to a molten mush. Liquefied metal plasters the floor around where you lie. The crumpled carriage shudders from side to side beneath— you feel the wheels hitch up and grind against the rails.

The wind smothers you in a cloying, acidic smog. Deafened by the howling wind, and alone with the green light of your Glow barrier, you take a moment to wonder.

Your followers, your congregation, where did they go? Did they all plummet away, down in their final dive towards salvation? Wait, no! The lantern!

You remember its golden light swelling in tandem with your gift, reaching back towards you in response to your words, your will. Oh, the sheer joy of imparting something you cherish! You’ve never had an audience so enraptured, so prepared to accept your gift into themselves! They may’ve been pirates and elven traitors, scum by any other name, but their vigor! Their growing zeal!

Wait, that’s right, your warmth was embraced by the lantern, the contribution of an insightful pilgrim! Their faith in your doctrines was birthed before your eyes in that moment!

But where is your blessing now?

Why is it so empty cold?

The wind shifts, clearing the smoke for a brief moment, and before you is a scene you can only describe as glorious. Elves with expressions of fear, of debilitating pain, of numb shock, of lifeless indifference, all unaware of your gleeful eyes. Not an elf wielding one of the broken and forgotten weapons around them, oh yes! Elves crushed under hunks of iron, bleeding from the eyes, and picking through the dismembered remains of their decadent allies. How defenseless! How your heart soars to see traitorous elves bleeding out like animals before you! Even now, the unworthy filth stand and tend to the wounded, scurrying back and forth in vain to save every member of their maggot-stained kind.

You knew the Villaltians were here. You knew Victor had struck a deal, pilfered the Glow’s blessing to manipulate these poncy fucks into imprisoning you. They tore your old congregation from you, and— wait. It must’ve been one of them who interfered! Your blessing was perfect, there was no way it could’ve, could’ve... well. It was there. You know that to be true, your verdant Glow was on the cusp of release!

But something happened. The instant the lantern burst, you unleashed your gifts, but where did the Glow go? Your hands shake. You’re drained, and your conduits feel hollow, stagnant. You cannot grasp Glow with your hands.

> [Cont.]

>>4002858
It was all there, and your fingertips enjoyed your gift’s supple surface. Where is it now?

What heretic stole the warmth from your hands?

Victor will know.

Victor will pay.

There are a number of wounded elves between you and the next carriage, between you and one step closer to choking the life out of Victor’s condescending face.

With a vigor you haven’t felt in years, you push off the ground and spring to your feet. Your barrier sputters around you, but for now it still holds. It will defend you from blows for a short time. Your Glow will carry you to victory, you have faith. Soon, you will feel the Glow flooding your veins and granting you its gifts. Like all gifts, however, one must make a sacrifice in return.

Elven blood will be a glorious present for your warmth.

Look at how thoughtful these heretics are! There, laying just outside your barrier, the shattered remnants of a sword. You step forward, stooping down to take the two largest fragments into your hand. Their jagged edges nicely stab into your palms.

Warm blood drips down the blades— a good omen!

How could a priest refuse the steel’s lust for carnage?

The closest elf is trapped underneath the warped body of a cannon. It’s child’s play to bring one blade down through his cheek, pinning his head to the floor. His disgusting blue eyes shoot open at the pain before they truly see you. The elf’s screams immediately devolve to pathetic gurgling. You watch the pool of crimson clog his throat.

“I am Gregory Reef,” you proclaim. The Glow barrier sizzles when the elf’s hands reach for you. The light flares up, keeping him from touching you even as he dares to push against your warmth— “I am the first Grandmaster of the Glowbearer Order. It is a simple truth when I tell you this. You are irrelevant—”

The elf’s arms explode.

You turn to the other elves as his blood rains down upon them.

“All of you are irrelevant before me.”

The delicious fear in their eyes makes you smile a wide, wide grin.

“However, today!” you roar over the armless elf’s wails. “I shall give you a gift. A blessing that shall forever outweigh your heresy. Rejoice, for the Glow shall embrace you as if you were an innocent babe!”

You plunge your other blade through the elf’s throat, wrenching through his spine. He goes silent.

“But for all gifts, there must be a sacrifice.”

You stomp down on the dying elf’s shoulder and seize his disgustingly fine hair. You pull.

“Prepare yourselves, my errant flock!” With a satisfying pop, the elf’s head is torn from his body. Glorious, warm blood splatters your body. You hold the still-bleeding skull aloft, victorious, fists clenching broken steel slick with gore.

“For today, I shall gladly take your tributes! Come, and I shall grant you paradise by my hands!”

> [Cont.]

>>4002865
Terrified elves are not only a wonderful sight to behold, they’re also wily beasts that cannot be trusted to die properly. Wounded and unwounded alike claw for nearby weapons, shouting in their grating tongue. Not a single one cowers before you.

There are eight healthy elves and ten of their wounded counterparts between you and the end of the carriage.

A trio of elves in the back begin to aim rifles at you. A quick-footed duo closer to you pull knives from their belts, and charge. Their screeching war cries do nothing to phase you— you’ll gladly grant your gift on the most zealous!

Your barrier wobbles.

> How do you carve a righteous path through them?

> [A] Meet the elven duo’s enthusiasm with your own! Countercharge, and let the Glow determine who’s faith is the strongest! Writein how strike them down.
> [B] Let them all come to you and cut them. These weaklings will quail before your might, so why even deign to take a step? Writein when you’ll do as these fools crash upon your shield.
> [C] You can no longer feel the Glow on your hands— blasted heretics, the thieves! But, your holy icon still carries energy within its crystal fragments. Writein how spend the last of your stored Glow to eradicate these heretics.
> [D] Writein for any other course of action— even a tactical retreat, if you insist!
> [E] Do you use the heretic’s head in this fight? Writein what you desire, my flock!

——————————————————————————

Pride has set the sky ablaze.

Along a chain bridging these shattered lands, a train hurdles towards resolution.
A Priest swears divine retribution, seething at those who branded him a heretic.
A Usurper stands defiant, cursing those who annihilated her fleet thanks to her folly.
A Fisherman saves an innocent life, ignoring those who are massacred by the horror he unleashed.
A Mother [REDACTED]

> And wouldn’t you know it, everyone has a certain precious someone on this train.
> What will their lovely liars think about this slaughter?
> Oh, how exciting! Where will this little heist go from here?
> If you’re late to this delightful catastrophe, better to get caught up! http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/3819877/

>>4002868
> [A] Meet the elven duo’s enthusiasm with your own! Countercharge, and let the Glow determine who’s faith is the strongest! Writein how strike them down.
Beat them down with the skull and your fists.

>>4002914

>A] Meet the elven duo’s enthusiasm with your own! Countercharge, and let the Glow determine who’s faith is the strongest! Beat them down with the skull and your fists.

>>4002914
Thirding.

>>4002868
>[A] Meet the elven duo’s enthusiasm with your own! Countercharge, and let the Glow determine who’s faith is the strongest! Writein how strike them down.

Update will be written tomorrow, got occupied tonight unexpectedly

>A
Seconding the "beat them with the skull," but swing it around by its nasty elf hair.

>>4002914
>>4002921
>>4002930
>>4003009
>>4003319
Called

“Yes!” you roar. “Finally, someone worthy of my gifts!”

Your stomach lurches as you take a step forward. Your vision twists and warps, and your center of balance violently tips to the side. Momentarily, your barrier flickers. Whatever damnedable ploy Victor pulls to rob you of your warmth must still be affecting you. Slowing your movements. Making you feel weak.

You catch your fall with an inelegant stumble. The carriage bounces and pivots beneath you, threatening to throw you off into the Glow Below. The acidic smoke makes your head spin. The elves in front of you are nothing more than blurs.

This is one insult you cannot abide.

Indignation steadies your shaky limbs. You can hear the duo’s boots pounding on the floor. They’re separating— they want to flank you. They believe they have a chance. That you’re not a threat, that their piddly little knives will be enough to skewer you from either side and drench the deck with your warmth—

You lunge forward, catching one mid-dash with your shoulder— Oh, how the elf screams when his spine cracks on the misshapen cannon behind him! He jabs a blade at your throat. The barrier glimmers around the knife. How can your Glow do anything but protect you from vagrant filth like this? You take great joy in seeing the Glow twist the blade’s trajectory away from you with a violent snap of the elf’s wrist. His fingers are shattered before your eyes. The knife flies off into the sky.

“Do you see how pathetic you are before me?” you declare while your blade pierces the elf’s grey tunic. “How easily one of you fall—”

You feel the warmth of your Glow rise behind you. You shove the elf over the cannon to fling yourself to the side, stumbling to avoid the second elf’s strike at your back. After regaining your footing, the elf speaks as the first slumps against the floor.

“I care not for your words, heretic,” the elf— a woman, by her voice— mocks you. “Our halcyon was a fool to want to bring you to trial.”

“You dare accuse me?” You? A heretic? “I’ll rip your tongue out for your insolence!”

“Just like an animal,” she shoots back. “Frothing at the mouth, gone mad with bloodlust—”

You have to shut her up! Frantically, you swing the head in your hand up by its hair—

“Fuck, what—” The skull smashes into her face. The elf reels back from you, but you give chase and whip the improvised flail back down at her.

> [Cont.]

>>4004783
She fails to block your second blow. Oh, how satisfying it is to silence her lies! You take advantage of her reeling and plant a kick into her hip, grinning as she collapses onto the floor.

“Are you prepared to accept my gift, you fucking sow?”

You don’t give her time to respond before you’re on top of her. With both hands gripping the head, you bash it down into the elf’s face. Teeth and blood go flying.

“You dare speak back to me?”

Crunch. The woman feebly lifts her hands to protect herself.

“You dare to trick me with your lies?”

Crunch. Her arm snaps under your might.

“You dare deny the Glow from rightfully flowing through my veins?—”

The crack of musket shots—

Your barrier flares up again, before erupting—

An impact in your chest wrenches you off the elf. You’re sent rolling across the floor, the craggy iron tearing at your clothes and ripping through your skin. You’re tumbling downward, careening towards the edge of the slanted carriage. Instinctively you try to grab ahold of anything to keep you from your final dive.

For an instant, all you see is the sky. The blackmetal chains loom above you. Airships sail along the clouds, swerving through a wall of shells and shrapnel. A hunk of stone burns in a golden radiance— there! The pilgrim’s lantern! Its Glow calls to you, beckons you, promises absolution in its light. Never in all your years have you seen Glow so pure, so untamed.

Feeling the tug of the Glow Below, you reach out towards the glorious lantern.

The Glow will protect you. It always has.

Even now, all you need is faith in yourself.

You fall—

> It’s a shame, really.
> It appears that bizarre Glow shield caught all the shots.
> It was a flashy display for sure, but that’s it.
> Now that lunatic will fall, forever.
> A fitting end for a beast if you ask me.
> We should observe someone else now, don’t you agree?

>> [A1] Yes. The Unwilling Usurper’s ship is returning, autonomous surveyors still aboard.
>> [A2] Yes. The Furious Fisherman has boarded the train, with a pair of young women in tow.

Or.
>> [B1] No. You spot a glint of metal that might just in the right position to catch the Priest.
>> [B2] No. You see a golden light shimmer around the Priest.
>> [B3] No. You can’t let him die here! Writein!

>>4004787
> [A2] Yes. The Furious Fisherman has boarded the train, with a pair of young women in tow.

>>4004787
> [A2] Yes. The Furious Fisherman has boarded the train, with a pair of young women in tow.

Vote will be left open overnight. Thank you all for tagging along

>A1

>>4004787
>>> [A1] Yes. The Unwilling Usurper’s ship is returning, autonomous surveyors still aboard.

>>4004787
> [A2] Yes. The Furious Fisherman has boarded the train, with a pair of young women in tow.

>>4005225
>>4004954
>>4004798
A2
>>4005091
>>4005133
A1

> See? Let's just put that fool behind us, we really don't need to pay attention to him any longer. Now, let's see how you move next...

What do you mean there’s a burning ship crashed into Theodosa’s room?
You will tell me where my daughter is. Do not test your Halcyon, do you understand me?

[The Furious Fisherman]

“Dad!” Diana practically preens below you. “This is like, a princess’s room!”

“Diana, we don’t have time.” You’re hanging from the open hatch in the ceiling of a train car, 10 feet above the floor. You’re forced to squint through the smoke whipping past you from the burning Needlenose. Your fishing ship for 18 years, left to smolder inside a blasted train. The very train containing the fucker who stole Gerald away from you. He came right after Rachel got sick, when all of you were grieving, and…

A pair of arms tighten around your shoulders— in fact, they begin to kind of choke you.

“Dia, please,” you croak. “Help Mae climb down. Her depth perception is still fucked, and I don’t want to fall with her on—”

“Yeah, yeah dad. Just hang in there, will ya?” Diana chirps. You hear the groan of furniture being pushed along the floor. “Everything is so fancy. Dad, they have tables made of wood! Can you believe that?”

“Diana!” Your arms are beginning to burn.

“Hey! Wood’s pretty heavy, you know!” The grinding stops. “And they got really shiny wood here too. Glow Below, I think I can see myself! Man the wind really did a number on my hair—”

You groan. Of all the times, Diana is deciding right now is when she needs to look in a mirror? In the distance you still hear the deep thumps of the train’s gunnery firing off at buzzing airships, further back down the train. It appears you’ve avoided the worst of the fight.

And you were able to hatch that blasted egg.

“Alright!” Diana calls up. “Ms. Mae, can you please start climbing down now?”

The girl on your back shivers and squeezes her arms around you even harder.

“Hey, uh,” You cough, what with being choked a little bit more. “You’re holdin’ on rather tight there. It’s alright, Dia will take care of you.”

The head pressed into your shoulders moves from side to side… Is that her saying no?

“Aw, come on Ms. Mae,” your daughter says, sweetly. You have no idea why she started calling her ‘Ms.’. Just another of her idiosyncrasies, like Rachel would call it…

“It’s…” Mae mumbles something into your back.

“Hey I understand you’re still freaked out and all,” you gulp to catch your breath. “But I’m kind of finding it hard to breathe here.”

> [Cont.]

>>4005578
The response is immediate. Her arms loosen up, slipping off your shoulders as Mae is slides down your back at an alarming speed. You bend your knees up to try and catch her from dropping to the floor. There’s an impact on your calves that strains your arms even further. You’re suddenly swinging forward, desperately trying to clench your legs around the girl threatening to slip off and—

“Woah! Don’t just let go like that!” Somehow, your daughter is able to catch Mae before she is flung to the floor. “I know you’re spooked and all, but just—”

“No!” Mae shouts, pushing herself out from your legs. You shoot a look down just in time to see Diana tip forward off of a table with the injured Mae in her arms. The two girls land on a brightly colored rug with a thump.

“Dia!” You let go and drop onto the table— fuck, your knees. A sharp pain stabs up your leg as you land. You’re forced to pitch backwards as your knees give out. You land ass-first onto the table, hard, and have to catch yourself from tumbling off the edge.

“Fuck,” you grunt through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’, scorched teats, oh Glow did that one hurt.”

“Dad!” Diana struggles to call out from the tangle of limbs she’s found herself in. “Ms. Mae’s tryin’ to get up!”

“Fuck, Dia, just let her?”

“No you don’t underst—”

Mae shoves your daughter off of her, rolls to the side, and springs up to her feet. You can barely move before Mae break out into a full sprint. You watch this blindfolded, one-handed girl bolt with shocking dexterity through the well-furnished room. She skirts around a skinny wardrobe, jumps over a small chair, and continues to bolt for the door at the end of the carriage. However, in her path you see a massive bed sitting in the middle of the room. The very same bed that has been pierced by the trident of the Needlenose through the rent in the wall.

One that appears to have been shoved from the wall and split in half by the force of your airships impact.

This could be very bad.

Diana climbs to her feet. “Dad!” she shouts at you. “She’s getting away!”

“And what do you want— fuck it,” you mutter, flinching at the tightness in your knees as you push yourself up to a standing position. Shit, your knees are still kind of fucked. You’re forced to sit back down.

“Seriously, why do you have to be so old!” Before you can respond, Diana runs off after Mae.

Which proves to be unnecessary. With an unladylike “Shit!” Mae runs straight into half of that huge bed. You watch the girl go ass-over-head before slamming into the floor on the other side, out of sight. You flinch— that look like it hurt…

“Hey uh,” Diana slows to a jog as she talks. “Ms. Mae, are you alright?”

“We need to leave,” Mae rasps, and you see the stump of her left arm reach up onto the bed.

> [Cont.]

>>4005586
“I’m sorry Ms. Mae,” Diana tuts while rounding the corner of the bed. “But you’re gonna need to relax. Dad said you needed to take it easy after he pulled out his very magic on ya—”

“Dia, it’s Verve.” You massage your knees. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You’re not sure if Diana is waving you off, or answering your question… She kneels down on the far side of the bed. “Yet here you are Ms. Mae, runnin’ like a bat out of a cave. Blind like one, too! What’s got you all worried?”

You can’t hear Mae’s quiet response. As your daughter soothes the girl, you take stock of your belongings. Your ivory dagger didn’t get shaken off from your belt, thank the Glow, and the whaleskin-wrapped journal is still in the satchel hanging from your side. You sigh, relieved. You can feel the emotions contained within those pages respond to you, beckoning you to read those words. If only you could invert the Verve inside, and relive a time that feels like an entirely different life…

Diana’s blonde hair bobs, and you can see her concerned eyes as she listens to Mae. She really looks just like Rachel, doesn’t she? You never believed her when she said Diana looked just like you… Diana catches you looking at her, and gives you a reassuring smirk.

“What’s she saying?” you ask.

“I’m not really sure dad.” Diana shrugs. “Ms. Mae’s mumbling something about howl season and how someone’s gonna be pissed. Whatever it is, she seems really shaken up.”

“What? Howl? Like howling skydogs?”

Diana shrugs again. She gives you a questioning look. You’re not entirely sure what to say. Skydogs really shouldn’t be an issue inside the train— unless she means there’s going to be a pack of them outside? But that doesn’t make any sense, not with the big fight all those airships are in. Unless…

Through the rent in the wall, past the blazing hull of the Needlenose, you spot a flash of golden light zip through the clouds. You’ve never seen a hatch-ling move so fast. Then again, you never hatched an egg that large. That Hoover guy promised up and down that it’ll be a fine beast when you bought it from him, but that isn’t like anything you’ve seen in the Endless Skies before.

Is that what she means by skydogs?... No. Mae was still blindfolded when that was released.

Does she mean something on this train? Something to do with the fucker who stole Gerald? Your knuckles are white as you squeeze your knee.

> Well then, what now?

> [A] Catch your breath, crashing into the train and climbing aboard took a lot from all of you.
> [B] Push yourself to keep heading towards the front of the train— you know that thief is up there, somewhere…
> [C] Ask Mae something, writein.
> [D] Writein any other course of action.

>>4005590
>> [A] Catch your breath, crashing into the train and climbing aboard took a lot from all of you.

>>4005590
>Catch your breath.
Don't want to run ourselves ragged.

>>4005615
Seconding.

>>4005615
>>4005646
>>4005849
Calling. Been busy the last couple days

You take a deep breath through your nose, biting back your frustration. However much you want to tear this train apart, to drag that bastard out of his hidey hole and string him up, you need to calm down. You’re not as spry as you used to be— your aching knees are a testament to that.

“Keep her relaxed, Dia,” you call out. “I need a moment to catch my breath.”

“Aye aye, dad!” Diana gives you a lackadaisical salute before looking back down to Mae.

Besides, what’s important now is getting both of them out safe. You’d planned to leave them on the Needlenose when you climbed aboard, and take on that trickster by yourself. Maybe a part of you still wants to hope that Gerald was still alive, somewhere. You’re probably a fool.

Everyone knows that those who sign up with pirate clad in purple cloth never return. It’s a disgrace that you didn’t hear the stories before Gerald brought home that slimy maggotshit of a man. You broke bread with him. Fuck, you even complimented his stupid fucking purple hat. You didn’t pay close attention to what your son was talking about— something about a job, that’s all you remember. You do remember the tiny, insufferably smug grin that man had when he watched your son talk. Gerald asked for your blessing at the end of supper. You said you would think it over, intending to talk to him alone the next day.

Both of them were gone in the morning, leaving behind a table stacked with empty booze bottles.

The next storm, you caught wind of a horrifically failed heist in a Villaltian bank three islands down. Every rumor mill was talking about the Bandit Prince in his iconic purple hat, and relaying the story of how he nearly leveled an entire town. An explosive placed in the lobby, so was claimed, and with his crew still inside the bank. Ran off with the gems and stones in tow.

When you flew there to investigate, the stone buildings were still burning.

“Hey,” Diana says while standing next to you. You jolt, slightly, shaken from your memories.

Your daughter continues while pointing over her shoulder, “Mae’s asleep on the bed over there.”

You peer over— the girl’s curled up on an undamaged portion of the bed. Panic races through your chest.

“Did something happen?” You push yourself up, ignoring the sharp pain in your knees. Your daughter stops you with a hand pressed into your shoulder, however.

“Ms. Mae’s perfectly alright, like I said she’s just sleeping.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Her body’s still healing, Dia. There’s nothing I can do if she hit her head when she ran into—”

“Dad,” Diana cuts in, staring directly at you. “I told you. She’s fine. Her head didn’t have a scratch or bruise or nothing. She was murmuring real quiet for awhile, seems all that running around really took it out of her, huh—”

> [Cont.]

>>4008602
Yellow, no, golden light blinds you from outside the windows, gone before you can blink—

Your stomach feels like it’s inverting—

The train jutters. You’re covering your eyes, reeling backwards. Diana cries out beside you, clinging to your arm. The two of you stand, straining to listen to anything over the whistling wind and the rumbling of the tracks.

Slowly, your vision clears.

“What was that?” Diana whispers.

There’s nothing different in the room, according to your quick scan. The cloud cover outside appears to be darker than before that bizarre flash. Maybe the train went through a opening in the clouds? “I don’t rightly know.”

You hear rustling, and look over to spot Mae bolt upright. With her remaining hand, she reaches up and pulls down the makeshift bandage/blindfold.

“Dia,” you begin, only for Diana to cut you off.

“Hey, Ms. Mae? Up from your nap al—”

You feel more than see your daughter flinch, pressing into you when Mae swivels her head. The bright blue iris stares at you, in sharp contrast to the Glow-scorched crater where her right eye should be.

“Oh!” Diana almost flings herself away from you to walk towards the girl. “Ms. Mae, you need to keep your eye—”

“Sir,” Mae interrupts your daughter. “I need to speak to you.”

Watching Diana halt mid-step to Mae’s words and practically wilt on the spot, you ask, “What about?”

The one-eyed girl shakes her head, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face with her left arm. She only notices the lack of a hand when the rounded stump of her wrist presses against her cheek. The initial confusion turns into shock when she looks at her arm. She’s silent for a long time.

“You’re still healing,” Diana nervously explains. “Dad did everything he could after you came fallin’ from the sky, it was real lucky that you landed on our boat when it happened, or else you’d be somewhere between here and the Glow Below by now!”

You cross the room and place a hand on Diana’s shoulder. Your daughter looks up at you with a worried frown. “It’s all right,” you say. “I was worried something happened to her mind when she woke up the first time after the procedure. It looks like she’s returning to normal—”

> [Cont.]

>>4008606
Mae tenses before glaring at you.

“What procedure? What did you do to me, you fucking witch,” she spits out. You instinctively place a hand over your ivory knife— an emblem of your past, and she identified it at a glance? She follows your movement with her eye and the disgusted curl of her lip. “Oh, are you going to sacrifice me to your cave gods? I bet you’re no better than the fuckin’ blasphemer we got chained up—”

Before you can respond, Diana whips around and places herself in front of you. “Ms. Mae!” she states in an indignant huff. “My dad saved your life. I don’t know how your momma raised you, but it’s rude to start insultin’ the people who bandage you up!”

She sneers at your daughter. “‘Ms.’? What, tryin’ to suck up to me?” Mae jabs a finger at Diana. “I don’t know what cult shit you’re sellin’, and I don’t wanna know what maggot dicks you suck down in your heretic shitholes.”

Diana flinches, visibly baffled. “But you.” Mae points at you. “Tell me who the fuck you are, and why you’re on my train. Now.”

What has gotten into this girl? Diana’s fists tighten by her sides, and you can see her begin to get angry. If you don’t step in, who knows what she’ll do…

> Well? The woman you saved is calling you witch, and is insulting your daughter.
> How do you respond, old man?

> [A] Tell the truth. You are a fisherman, and you’re here to murder the man who tricked your son and got him killed.
> [B] Tell the whole truth. You were once a Verve practitioner, back in your youth. Back before you met your wife.
> [C] Ignore her questions and demand she explains what she meant by ‘her train.’
> [D] Get angry. How fucking dare she insult your daughter.
> [E] Let Diana take the lead and see where she takes it. You can trust your daughter, right?
> [F] Writein, Writein. Can you tell her how you really feel? Ask her something that confuses you? Let it all out!

> [D] Get angry. How fucking dare she insult your daughter.
PROTECT
HER
SMILE
> [C] Ignore her questions and demand she explains what she meant by ‘her train.’
In an angry way also.

>>4008612
>[D] Get angry. How fucking dare she insult your daughter.
>[C] Ignore her questions and demand she explains what she meant by ‘her train.’
We're not answering shit with an attitude like that.

>>4008612
>[D] Get angry. How fucking dare she insult your daughter.
>[C] Ignore her questions and demand she explains what she meant by ‘her train.’

>>4008840
>>4008929
>>4009059
Called, vote will be written tomorrow. Got occupied today.

>>4008612
>D
>C