NIGHT

A world away, NIGHT was asleep, dreaming. Dreaming about a castle unreal, a courtyard too big, a starry midsummer's sky peppered with speckles of white and silver and gold. It was in the realm of unimportance that one was want to wake in a haze, dizzy, senses failing them each time they shifted to move and take an action. Feeling as though they didn't have any choice in where they were going, what they were meant to do. NIGHT had felt it, aware of not being in control, but at the same time she too was familiar of her failing lucidity. She stumbled from one of the rooms, a comforting warm

i am obligated to now say i too watch rupauls but im slow at catching up. you valid. please dont be shy, we wont bite and we're p active on discord! welcome!

she wasn't going to see it. she didn't want to see it. she knew cardinal was sly and tricksy in its ways. even as the other's approach was simple, straightforward on their path, there was something night felt like she needed to do: figure in her sights, blurred once. she wasn't going to see it, when they drew in closer, and she had the gall to shift her sights away, so that only a sliver of their form was in view. a maid outfit? how quaint. the bite against the side of her mouth would've bled had this been non-virtual, when she did, finally and accidentally, take in those e

The orange glow came and went as quickly as it faded in from light. Had it not been for the other fore warnings of her mind, she would've sat idly by watching with intrepid tranquil. Likely, she was known to have received a message wondering about her return home -- but she was an independent player herself. Doubtless there was no need to answer every seeker's beck and call whilst she had the way of it. But what was she then, unkeen eye settled on the cityscape over Taft? Part of her imagined a black back alley cat, unfettered by most of society and keeping her swirling thoughts to hersel

she couldn't see. the figure was a hazy outline; familiar, known all too well from her blurry gaze, in between the downpour and the late shadowy atmosphere. (the time was exactly 2am.) she didn't need to know anything further than the yellow diamond above her rendezvous' appearance how the subject of their topic arose from thin air. how, despite their best efforts to keep their secrets concealed, cardinal always found a way to toy with them and their emotions. how it always chose the types most likely to play on her own, especially on her lonesome. a hazy outline, indeed. night

She couldn't blame the waitress' passing interest in the book; frankly, if it was a work of fiction, NIGHT would've liked to at least checked out its blurb before giving anything within it a read. But, granted, most novels in Aincrad were crafted in this standardized manner, fabric and hard-back and paper only, with nothing to show on its covers except for the title on its front and spine should the book itself get so lucky. Genericized copies helped the world form better, not to overload the systems on all text outputs until time necessary that players had their hands on the reading material

To NIGHT's credit, she did believe whole-heartedly in Tarek's attempt at cooking. To both players' disappointment, however, neither their hopes nor Cardinal's wishes brought them taste with their servings. The egg was runny in a way that spelled itself undercooked, and something told the woman that the time taken to process dragon egg was way different than handling any regular chicken's or duck's. With the menace finally downed, they finally had the chance to turn their attention towards the more important part of their journey. The search for their draconic mark. Tarek's form was i

Reading glasses? It didn't feel right. NIGHT had always supposed the leader had always worn them out of need; then again, it was strange how their vision needed improvement despite the fact that the game was being projected directly into their consciousness. It would've made more sense to achieve 20/20 vision in such a scenario, wouldn't it? May just be as likely that one's brain had altered their perception to reflect the blurriness they had grown accustomed to. She mulled over this, still, as he fiddled with his interface further. With the way his fingers were moving, it seemed to be a messa

her. the word, her name, felt like a stain on her tongue, in her mouth. she hated it. all night could do was examine the miniature script, over and over, eyes running over the broken scribbles and undecipherable intention. jet karesanui. south quarter. 2am. who the hell was 'i'? the messenger themselves, or a different unit altogether? the player's head was spinning, thoughts swirling, impatience rooted through her form. the time was 1:25am. they'd already decided it wasn't related to the matter of them. no players nor word of mouth; they'd kept their traps shut on th

What troubled her more was the sudden stain amidst the whites of the pavement. Now, who could've done it? In earnest, she would've decided to watch for the troublemaker, had she the will to do anything about it. But the focus on the other player was in willful ignorance, moreso than a decision to keep a watch, voyeuristic as she was certain to be by now. That thought went back to the sort of material Raidou was working on. And what seemed like green tea... Fitting, no less. Because despite what the world around them was shaped to be defined after, a portrait of the western past, it was th

No to tea. And it seemed, with due time, no to the book as well. NIGHT had half a mind to start hazarding a guess to its contents; books were most usually rare in Aincrad, there being a significant lack of essayists, poets and craftsmen who'd prefer the pen and paper to the sword. Then again, most of her journalist friends were the type to flaunt a story than work on a neutral, objective piece. Had she her right to it, she'd guessed they could've picked up the pen, too, should they so choose. Perhaps it was in the loneliness and confinement during the process of writing that such a world

So here was Taft; dainty, quiet, peaceful -- bustling. NIGHT was certain that the once medieval city had been caught under the overhaul of the system, turned from a small cluster of districts one would find in any standard isekai novel to a bona fide capital of such a setting, castle and all. Especially the cathedral; had the player not been perceptive before, she would've regarded its bell tolls a recent addition to the floor. What banners and garnishes the streets used to own were now brought out in full abundance, given the town compacting, but they were still wide enough to account f

Preparations for breakfast were readied just in time for the ominous aforementioned 'tunnel collapse' to have occurred; the party of three were out on another side of the cave in time to feel the powerful shudder behind them, alongside the sinking of sand. NIGHT turned around at the noise, hands set on lifting her part of the egg up. No going back there, now. Tarek had set up camp by a spire just a few paces away from the underground. In the shadow of their towering rock face, a cast iron pan was set up with fire, the hunter's camel looming over it to block out what wind from a sandstorm

there's so many of these in a row. -A-)a

"So a split then," NIGHT spoke aloud, eyes lost in the mix of differing brown hues. From what she could observe, there was nothing indicating the presence of anything shiny in the scatter of scraps; only a dirtied home, the likes of which could've been blamed on sand. As she turned around to the face the duo, her face was set, stern. "It's not like we're here for the hoard, either. But there's no sign of loot here to be had. Too bad for you." "Pssh." Tarek waved a hand back at her, grinning. "Anyone could tell you that much." "Aren't dragons supposed to stash their treasure at home,

A clarion voice. NIGHT's head whipped around at the stranger's call; though Koga was prepared for a fight, the woman hadn't been, stance as slack as it had been peering into the nest. In shoddy dark rags there stood a man behind them, furnished with various beads and accessories that tinkled in his wake as he raced close to the players. "Dragon hunting!" He chuckled, stopping a few feet from them. NIGHT could spy the freckles, mixed with sand on his face. "Never thought there'd be others as daring as myself to take up the job. But better with folk alike than to take on that beast on my o

[27/6/21] #js