Elora

Elora missed Mina's home from the second she left its doorstep. It was hard to imagine why the player had chosen to move to an inferno of a floor, even harder yet to understand how her oasis of a property survived its engulfing climate. She certainly wouldn't find herself occupying any of the arid floors without reason. Growing up in rural Ireland made even the slightest heats practically unbearable. Yes, she much preferred the temperate, or even the colder climates of many of the other floors to this literal hellscape. Trudging back towards the level's main settlement, she did her best t

She shelved her confusion at his thanks in favor of an awaited reply. "I.. never really had a proper family.", stated Freyd as sorrow seemed to eclipse his features. "Tell me more about yours." His redirection puzzled her. After all, she had posed the discussion with the intention of learning more about his history and interests. Dispelling the invitation so immediately made her reconsider his newfound willingness for transparency. Despite that, she considered that her judgement might be unfair. Freyd had been making visible attempts to lift the veil, to allow her a glimpse at the m

"It's easy", she began, as a gesture through her UI summoned familiar ingredients to the counter before them. "You remember - we just gotta grate and mash the potatoes, then mix that into some flour and egg." That was the short of it, at least. Elora gave Freyd a hesitant look before suggesting, "If you can prepare the potatoes again, I'll get started on mixing the batter." She left little window to decline as her attention diverted to the delegated task. Thankfully, the bowl she'd previously put out hadn't been fashioned into a projectile during the earlier battle. It was a straightforwa

Fingers curled around a tarnished knob, unlatching and guiding the washroom's door gently toward her. Where Elora had anticipated the harsh creak of worn hinges, she was instead greeted by a span of silence. It was a small detail to notice, though one she regarded with humored reverence. Not long ago, she was hefting her detached door out of the way whenever she wanted to leave The Hummingbard Inn. Part of her missed the creaking floorboards and settling walls of a well-loved place. Perhaps the inn had too many of those familiar noises. From rowdy street brawls to late-night karaoke, she never

The gummy paste clung to her clothes like a goddamn leech, its adhesive bond severed only by a concerted yank in the opposite direction. With a less than graceful shlorp off of Freyd, she offered a hand to help him escape from the ever-expanding puddle below. "I know right?", she found herself recounting, "I never bothered to bathe at the inn 'cause it didn't have any kind of washroom." Her mind considered how gross that admission would have sounded in a real-life context. Thankfully, wistful thoughts of warm water were enough to tow away any inklings of misplaced embarrassment. The woman

The system's accuracy in recreating real-world excursions was nothing short of astounding. Maybe that was the secret. Something as spontaneous and ridiculous as this seemed like it could only exist in a fairy tail. An especially messy fairy tail. A sludgy cobwebbing of porridge strung between Freyd's cheek and her's as she peeled back from their predicament to assess his vitals. Ever since the collision, he'd been convulsing violently beneath her weight. There was scarcely time to be offended. "Freyd...?", she probed warily, "You gonna survive? Just how much batter did you inhale??" Caref

And so, right before them, the facade began to crack. Little by little: Freyd, Takeshi, Montjoy, the indecipherable amalgamation of everything that was the person she'd loved, was on the crux of an internal metamorphosis. The marks of dueling dialogues were plainly written in his features. Regret, concern, worry, fear, sadness, dismay, longing, hope. Freyd's form seemed to ebb and flow between reservation and relief as the admission of fears long sense held were systematically purged from his heart. With each successive explanation, Elora felt as though an ornate tapestry was being completely

A cacophony of cataclysmic proportion clattered out from the nearby common room. Elora barely managed to stifle a scream as the sudden jolt of surprise made her spine rattle from tailbone to the base of her skull. Christ almighty -- is Freyd ok?! , the instinctual worry sparked within her mind. "GAH! Borris! What the...?!", came a convincing cry from just around the corner. Pangs of anxiety shot through Elora's chest as her mind began to construct the crime scene behind that door. "It started because of breakfast...", she imagined her opening remarks to the court, "...and ended as

Azure eyes regarded Mina curiously, then cautiously as she summoned a notepad to hand. What is she writing down...?, Elora narrowed her eyes to peer at the text. A transcription? What the hell? To document such a vulnerable discussion felt unnecessarily judgmental and detached. Maybe that's the point --, Elora seethed, She's not even tryin' to listen to Freyd, just prod and gawk at him like some sort of lab rat -- Perhaps her thoughts had been less quiet than she had hoped, for only a matter of moments later, Mina warily removed the veil that shielded her features. The intensity of Elora'

The starchy aftermath grew ever evident against the marooning backdrop of Elora's face. Where Freyd may have expected shrieks, he was instead greeted by an unnerving silence. A prolonged stare would soon reveal subtle tremors that lapsed into uncontrollable shakes from sticky head to splattered toe. Steam may as well have been sizzling off of her skin as Elora made one swift motion to hurl the egg she'd been holding into the kitchen ceiling above. What could have been miscalculated as a stray attack would soon find its way from the rafters onto the head of the wryly player. In a moment's notic

"YOU WHAT?!", Elora exclaimed, her bouquet nearly splatting into smithereens on the ground. "Pre-packaged meals have been the norm for me, for as long as I can recall..." "They have for me too -- but I haven't tried to use a sword as a COOKING UTENSIL!", she stressed as if saying the words louder would attribute more sense to their application. "You need to learn how to prep properly, good god --" Elora intercepted him, lacing a hand around his arm to tow him up from the floor. "Show me all these special talents you have hidden away. I can't wait to learn.", he encouraged in

Elora's ears flicked upwards as her eyes ignited with unbridled excitement. "The wild roses!", she shouted with arms shooting forward to accept the gift, "I've been keeping my eye on them and waiting for them to bloom--" A chain of memories too long to recount was quickly curtailed as she shoved her entire face into the heart of the bouquet. With one comically large inhale, she drew in her breath to savor the sweetness of their scent. If she were a cartoon character, the buds would likely be shooting out of her ears. "One of the few things they managed to get right...", she sighed contentedly.

A spike of surprised was immediately lapsed by the exhale of relief. "Oh -- hi, Freyd", greeted Elora as her far-too elusive partner materialized from the shadows beside them. I always forget he can do that... "Yeah, it's going -- well?", the response had broken off with unmeditated second-guessing. "I got all my stuff unpacked, now I'm just trying to figure out what to do about this.", she gestured vaguely to everything around them. The undeveloped greenspace served as a scapegoat for, or perhaps more uncomfortably, a visual representation of, her own insecurities. Sure, living at the Humming

A dramatic hand raised to wipe the arch of her brow as Elora stepped back to admire the day's progress. There, she regarded with some sense of accomplishment, All unpacked. The result of her efforts would seem indistinguishable to the average home-owner. In a room sparsely occupied by furniture or decor sat one dilapidated bed accompanied by a neglected dresser. Nested in the corner nearest the window, the set appeared more like a flee market show floor than a young woman's dream interior design. As silent seconds of scrutiny stretched on, Elora gave a disgruntled sigh, So much space... The im

"Guess so", she said casually and with a courteous smile. These interactions never get less awkward. Thankfully, this individual seemed the capable type, despite his age. He showed impressive dexterity in maneuvering his tea, at the very least. Wonder what kind he's drinking., she couldn't help but speculate. Soon after, Elora followed the old man as he began to reminisce about his days as a skier. "Winter Olympics, 1972.", Kingsley recited, "I injured myself the next year and took to other endeavors," Why...is he telling me all of this...? "That's the type of memory I expect t