Freyd

A plastered smile planted itself on Freyd's face while Kyo regaled them with her knowledge of medical conditions, and their applicability in a world she had yet to explore.

"Oh, you're gonna fit in just fine around here," he conceded, laughing while choosing not to engage in a distracting debate.

It is true that if we go through too much stress in here too quickly, it'd probably have a backlash o' some kind on our real bodies, though..."

"That's the catch, isn't it?  There's no way for us to know if much or any of what we've been told is true.  Given the scale of Kayaba's deceit, I can't say that I'm inclined to believe him about much of anything.  All we really know is that we're stuck here, so we make the best of it that we can."  Looking down at his fancy duds and gear, he flashed her another mustachey grin.  "And I don't mind going walkabout, if that what you all prefer."

A verbal barrage of exposition was his reward, as Vigilon unleashed what was surely the entire wiki entry for the floor.  "Erm.  Yeah.  That.  And the Forest of Memory definitely has... stuff," he replied, deadpan.  "Wasn't Dazia the player-killer that Krysta wanted to hunt down?  The whole episode has gotten kinda hazy."  Floral shoulders shrugged once more.  He'd never heard of the Citadel in question, which was odd given that this was his own back yard, but player experiences could vary so drastically in the forest that he chose to simply file it away for future investigation.  

"Head down to Tomoika, on twenty-one, Kyo, if you need some better gear.  There's a do-gooder down there named Ren, who runs The Knight Shift.  He'll hook you up for free.  And if not, tell him to put it on my tab.  He owes me change for some apples."  No further explanation was forthcoming.

Morningstar's mention of some celebrity monster in the lake made Freyd laugh aloud, probably because it was true.  

"Oh yeah.  The King of the Lake.  I nearly forgot about him.  It's been ages.  There's also always the chance that you could fish up a greater mimic that will try to eat you, but that hasn't happened in ages.  A friend of mine once had it happen three times in a row.  She wasn't too happy and needed a bit of rescuing in the end."  A tiny wistful smile perched itself on the man's lips as he gazed into nostalgia with glazed eyes, or at least so it appeared thanks to his glasses.

"So, Ms. Morinaga," Morningstar continued, "why the change in heart? What's brought you out of the Town of Beginnings? It's not often I see people leave, these days. It's a comfy place."

A fair question.  Freyd leaned back against a set of nearby market crates to better listen, his fishing rod dismissed and soon replaced by a steaming cup of vanilla-scented coffee.

Every lead up to a raid meant a flurry of furious activity: field bosses to be slaughtered, mountains of items to be identified and fused, and a virtual Thanksgiving buffet of consumables to obtain and prepare.  This time was no different. Freyd was in the final stretch. Having already visited The Knight Shift to secure a new blade for Morningstar, he was bound for the location provided at the prep meeting with an inventory full of goodies that would make Santa's toy bag look like amateur hour.  What had ever possessed him to volunteer as a tank?!  Wrapped in trusty but worn traveling leathers, he'd never held any aspirations to be more than a damage dealer in these things.  It wasn't his first rodeo, but to get pummeled by a raid boss would be an entirely new experience.

Were he truly honest with himself, the Whisper was worried that he wasn't properly prepared.  Injuries weren't the issue.  He'd suffered plenty in the past.  But having five other players in his charge had lit a fire inside him to meet high expectations set by others better suited to the task.  Raidou, Eruda, Shield, Calrex, Yuki, just to name a few.  These names were legends in raid lore.  He hadn't exactly woken up that morning, before the meeting, expecting to take a stand as a party's meat shield wearing fancy pajamas while trying to keep them safe using his bare hands.  Glancing down, he felt the hum of power containing the endlessly hungry oblivion dwelling within his hand wraps.  It would be nice if they chose not to eat his hands while he was at it.

Freyd didn't really do the whole fear thing either.  It was too inefficient.  What might manifest as anxiety in others often turned into immutable resolve instead, driving him into a manic tizzy of activity and singular focus: be ready, and keep everyone not dead.  Hirru would be a godsend for the latter.  The Whisper would have to rely on swift reflexes and raw stats to pull himself through the rest.  There just wasn't enough time to fully reset his build completely.

Muted voices reached him from beyond one of Ronburu's many manicured hedges.  Everywhere in this place felt like a garden, though he'd yet to give it the proper investigative scouring.  Too many other duties pulled him elsewhere, fighting fires to the point of smothering, then moving on to the next.  This whole raid felt much like the same.  Sidestepping through shrubbery, the lanky Whisper emerged from the shadows to join the group of fortunately familiar faces.

"Ah.  There you are," he said, speaking calmly and quietly, belying his actual state of mind. "Making the final trek, are you?  Would it bother if I tag along?"  A quick nod was added towards Morningstar, who would be in his raid group.  

***

Freyd consumes:

Gugnir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Crème Brûlée Tray | ACC 2 | Feast (6/6) - 1 portion, filled (other portions are shared with party)
Armageddon Juice (Potion) | Damage 3 | [179649] 
Red Velvet Meringue (Snack) | Evasion 2 | [197253]
Jackpot Pretzel (Snack) | Loot Die 3 | [197169]
Stalwart's Stew | T4 Perfect Meal | MIT 3 | [215251] 
Shrimp Gumbo | Tierless Perfect Meal | Overhealth 3 | [216721] 
Strawberry Yogurt with Honey (Snack) | Probiotics 3 | [166168]

Note: Alkor has dropped off from the thread.  Freyd is stepping in as a replacement.  
Note: CS (Shades of the Gemini) is in use.  If any other player objects to this, please say so on your next post and it will be considered inactive.

Freyd | HP: 1357/1357 | EN: 152/152 | DMG: 26 | MIT: 163 | EVA: 5 | ACC: 7 | BH: 74 | LD: 8 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | REC: 8 | PROB: 36                                                

"Y'can't get a concussion in VR.  And the system doesn't simulate pain, so I think the only thing ya'd have t' worry about with that kinda fall's your HP and gettin' dizzy for a while."

Freyd just chuckled, a grin growing about Kyo's ironclad certainty.

"Uh-huh.  Sure. You keep telling yourself that.  Pain suppression has its limits.  And while you might not suffer a true and proper concussion, having a mutant troll toss you across a cavern to smash you face first into the far wall does tend to discombobulate a bit.  Also not too sure about your notion of not losing health just because it's a safe zone.  Fall far enough or eat the wrong thing and you could still land yourself in trouble.  It never hurts to be wary."  Palm-spangled shoulders shrugged while Freyd refocused on Vigilon's plight.

"Did you piss off the golden goose?  Why's it nattering after you like that?  Can't say that I've ever seen one of them in a tree before, either, but whatever.  Stranger things, and all that.  Watch it turn out to be a dungeon boss."

"Grow out the mustache," Morningstar said to Freyd, "live a little."

"Tempting," came the admission, at Morningstar's urging for boldness.  "Not sure if Elora would appreciate it." The Whisper wiggled his nose a bit, triggering his most familiar skill to sprout a flush of shadows that swiftly gelled into a proper Selleck 'stach.  It didn't look right.  Not even a little, but he was proud as punch to portray it in its full and furious ridiculousness.  "Shit.  Now I might catch babes instead of fish."  His neck swiveled wide as if searching for offended ears.  "Just don't tell her, m'kay?"  It looked slightly better when he grinned full of mischief.

"I was just heading down to the end of the docks to try my luck.  I'm not sure what you came looking for all the way up here, Kyo, but this is as good a way as any to get to know the lay of the land."  Light dawned on his mustache.  "Oh, and I'm Freyd, by the way.  I should probably mention that.  We could also try our luck at goose-wrangling, if Vigilon needs a hand, but feel free to ask for anything you might need.  Mi casa es su casa, etc., not that I own the place.  And if there's an alternate plan for Lake Day, I suppose I'm game.  Taking easy for a change today, either way."

"I...err...your information may be slightly incomplete,"  Freyd added, deliberately turning his attention back to his plate.  "I've seen gemini on other floors.  Many other floors, actually.  And many, many, MANY gemini.  A whole forest full of the things.  I even saw one claw its way out of a player once... oh! Twice, actually."  Poking randomly at his meal, as if trying to distract himself from the topic, he swiftly shoveled in a mouthful to prevent himself from saying anything more.

"So, if Montjoy's not a gemini, then what do you suppose he is?  Simmone's mirror revealed him as Takeshi - I mean, other world me - though I'd figured that much out long before."  Stirring the pieces on his plate, one might have assumed he was shuffling chess pieces around.  "He's been a thorn, or conscience, in my side for ages now.  But, though I rarely admit it, he gave me some good advice."  A warm and friendly smile beamed Elora's way.  He'd never have befriended her, or more honestly let her befriend him without the shadow's urging.  She'd led him towards his humanity in more ways than he could ever fully express.  The other shadows resumed their normal dance about the room, save Montjoy himself, whose silhouette stood frozen against the wall behind Freyd with hands tucked casually in pants pockets as if listening for Mina's answer.

"Many things have changed since the raid," he added, hesitantly and laced with coy ambiguity.  "I can definitely have a few people look into those figures you mentioned and see what can be found.  If there are any more of Shadow's minions on the loose, we'll put a stop to it.  At least the Sundered Spire seems to have finally been fully quashed.  They've given us no more trouble since Lun'Rael's second fall."

"Kyo, huh?  Nice to meet ya."  Freyd saluted with his semi-free hand, or at least with the two fingers not currently holding a pastry.  "Good of you to make it out of the old T.O.B. and join us in the fray.  Once more onto the breach, and all that."  The uppermost tip of his antique fishing rod twirled about as he spoke, like some sort of makeshift battle standard.  With him, who knew?  It might actually have been one.

 "Good to see you're still alive. I like the shirt; it's very Tom Selleck."

"THANK YOU," the Whisper blurted, agog, as if Morningstar had just cracked the Enigma code and revealed it to the world.  "You have no idea how long I've waited for someone to make that connection.  Do you think I should add the mustache to the mix, or would it be a step too far?  I'm not sure I could really pull it off without his jaw line."  The lanky man stroked his chin with long, slender, spidery fingers as if the tactile sensation might help his pondering of the possibility.  Scarfing down the balance of the bun, he nodded his agreement with Morningstar's assessment of the floor.

*GULP*

"Our guild hall's nearby," he added, wiping his lips on a stained palm tree that had clearly served this purpose before.  "Firm Anima.  We're, uh..." he looked down at the rod, "...crafters."

*THUD*

Looking down at the suddenly fallen mass at his feet, a singular dark eyebrow rose in the narrow gap between his shades and bucket brim before Freyd turned his gaze upward again in search of the source of raining players.

"Vigilon?  Dude, seriously.  We need to stop meeting like this, for the sake of your concussions. Did you piss off a squirrel and lose a fight over an acorn or something?"  Blinking at the sudden gathering of players in Coral, Freyd suddenly found himself siding with Kyo's original assessment.  "What the heck are you all doing around here?  Did I miss a memo about another festival?"

"Freyd," was his immediate response, spoken without a moment's hesitation.  "Though you say it with great tenderness, 'Takeshi' rings in my ear as if the name belongs to someone else."  A flush of colour and uncertainty rushed into his cheeks, unaccustomed to expressing that sort of humility, or maybe not with such abundant sincerity.

"There is a place I know, on the Eastern edge of floor six, away from the strange habits and practices of Amazonian Krycim and their counterparts in Senimoh.  It's... serene. The woods teem with life and might be well-suited to that alchemy you keep threatening to practice."  His arms shifted to protect his ribs, expecting an elbow to come shooting his way.  Katoka had taught him to be wary when making smartass comments.  "The locals aren't always the most fun to be around, though.

"Another option might be Florenthia, on floor eight.  It's neutral ground between the elves and treant, where both groups manage to live in peace."  A hand rose to trace and caress her elongated ears.  "I never did ask you about these, but maybe you'd feel more at home around the NPCs there?  The landscape is beautiful and also full of sylvan splendor.  Flooding can be a bit of a problem at times, though."  He arched his brows, worried that any lingering trauma from Shadow's blight might prove resurgent every time it rained.  "Err... maybe not."

"None of the other floors seem to fit the bill or strike the proper tone.  Most of the upper floors are rather drab or too exotic, except floor twenty-two, I suppose?  That would keep us close to the guild hall and the floor is mostly peaceful.  The lands around Taft could work?  Or do we go all the way down to Urbus on floor two?"  No single place jumped out in his mind.  "The only spot I can think of is a place I recently discovered.  It's a shrine called The Temple of the Three on the outskirts of floor seven.  The grounds had been defaced, but there was something... spiritual about it?"  He seemed uncertain, like even the stuffiest of words in his vocabulary couldn't quite convey the mysticism of the place.

Freyd just laughed and shrugged.  

"Maybe we just need to go find a spot for ourselves?"

"Donkey... what?"  Freyd seemed genuinely confused, because he was.  Whatever Elora was going on about might have been understood by Mina, but had clearly gone right over his head.  Mina's accounting for Akane's behaviour came as no surprise.  He'd faced his own share of betrayals and knew all to well the need to be wary.  Even coming here had taken some convincing, and most of that from Montjoy himself.  Speaking of which, the silhouetted marionette danced giddly about the room, likely moving the silent tunes cast about by the flicker and motion of candle flame upon the walls.  Shadows were weird about such things.  It was like feeding them catnip.

"Is it odd to have your own shadow watching your six," he quipped, rejoining the conversation.  "I mean, it's already there anyway."  Montjoy moved to cuff him on the back of the head, but his tenebrous hand failed to make contact.  How could it not?  He grinned mischievously as Mina ignored him and pressed on as if she'd never heard him speak. 

"At first I thought he was just a Gemini clone that Freyd had following him around, he certainly wouldn't have been the first~"

"Wait.  What?  What is that supposed to mean?"  Cutlery clanked loudly as it nearly fell from his hands.  She had struck a chord and instantly garnered his attention.  "Who do you know that has a gemini clone following them around?"  Freyd's face remained friendly, but there was something else flitting behind his hawkish features.  Whatever it was had frozen Montjoy in his tracks.

"Though to be fair, Freyd would know his heart, mind, and body the best — After all, he lives in it~"

His eyes flinched at that, though only barely, even as he held his gaze and tongue awaiting a response to his previous question.  While the candle flames still flickered, every shadow cast by them had suddenly stalled on their cast surfaces, like a crowd holding its breath.

Freyd was genuinely flummoxed as Elora handed him a would-be sail, uncertain as to how they'd make a mast upon which to affix it.  The plan had been 'slab', not so much 'sailboat', but she'd made the effort and he didn't want her to be disappointed.  

"Erm... right!"  Grabbing a flexible shoot from a slimmer, younger tree, he lashed it to the raft's base and slung it into a curve, tying off to two far corners for stability.  Maybe it would work.  Big maybe.  But it would look like it was supposed to work, and that should be enough.  "Thanks!  Here.  Let's tie it off at the corners like a trifold sail."  He had no idea if that was really a thing and just ran with it.  Grabbing the raft's edge, he lifted and pushed hard, straining to get it off the beach.  

"Quick!  Climb on!  We'll have to work together to get it through the waves and away from the shore.  I'll hop in once we're clear."  Remaining in the surf, he helped them work their way clear and out to open water, pulling himself aboard once his feet could no longer touch the bottom.  "That way, I think," he pointed to where he'd seen the coral reef.  It was like paddling through pure rainbow as the sun dipped lower and shifted like it passed into a prism.  The sea turned yellow, slowly turning towards pink as they neared their destination.

"Huh.  Wow.  Will you look at that."  Actual wonder tinged the usually dour man's voice, appreciating the splendor laid out before them, though both might have caught his gaze drifting to the beautiful ladies - his friends - standing by his side.

Radiant sunlight streamed through the broken canopy of the sparsely grown trees in the Forest of Memories.  Freyd had finished collecting his daily reports, assigning agents where and as required to deal with the doldrum affairs of Firm Anima's routine management.  Things were much quieter than in the past, or so it seemed, and so the Captain had selfishly assigned himself the duty to patrol the shores of the Lake of Reflection.  As trivial a task as it might seem, there was a time during the wrath of Skalaugh and assault of the Sundered Spire upon Coral when the threat was unavoidably real.  Today's armaments were considerably more benign, however, as he summoned to hand his grandfather's fishing pole, or at least the best facsimile that he'd manage to conjure purely from age-tainted memory.  Passing through woods, Freyd likewise recalled an epic chase where his defeated gemini had somehow burst free from within him and run amok, wreaking havoc in this place and summoning a horde of doppelgangers as distractions.  All had perished, in the end, but not without inflicting some degree of trauma along the way. 

The Whisper, as he was sometimes called, spared a glance towards the void-like wraps wound tightly about both hands - weapons born of that hunt and aptly named in its aftermath.  How ironic that they'd dropped as loot from the incarnation of his first and most lonely friend at the time.  Marv had always remained the strong silent type.  Shifting from shadow to shadow, as if by nature rather than deliberate intent, Freyd's appearance gradually changed  with every stride.  Black on black everything gave way to the most unlikely garb that few had ever seen upon him.  Even the trademark cowl gave way, replaced by a sweat-stained beige bucket hat that might have once have pretended to be white.  His clothing morphed from the standard garb of the stereotypical edgelord to be replaced with a scarlet Hawaiian shirt strewn with patterned white palm tree print and a pair of black rimmed shades neatly tucked in his breast pocket.  A flick and they were donned, wide smile beaming at the ridiculous attire completed by torn and stained khaki shorts, white tennis loafers and slightly less pale and pasty skin than used to be the case.  Progress.  Maybe.

The locals waved or nodded, calling greetings to him by name.  He'd grunt or mutter theirs in return, having burned them into memory after the tragedy at Tanabata.  A few beckoned him to make purchases, which usually garnered taunts or jibes about the quality of their wares and tenuous promises to return once the day's work was done - by which he meant hours wasted wiling with nothing at the docks.  It was a rare treat, and he wasn't about to sully it by actually thinking about anything of consequence, or getting distracted by inconsequential jabber.  Universe triggered.

"Akihiko Kayaba, you flamin' idiot!"  The call was female and reminded him too much of Quip, laden with casual indignation. "A floor like this only even makes sense in a game that's an actual game. The flippin' hell were you smokin'?"

"Do you think he heard you?"  A more familiar voice with matching familiar face.

"Morning, Morning," Freyd mumbled, pulling a full honey bun out of an undersized pocket and stuffing half of it in his gob.  "Who's the genderbent @Hirru making all the ruckus, and why does she look like a punk version of @Hidden?"  His cheeks puffed like a squirrel's mid-prepping for hibernation, beaming a goofy grin at this recent raid companion while simply basking in the glorious absurdity of the scene.

***

Freyd | HP: 1180/1180 | EN: 152/152 | DMG: 23 | MIT: 103 | EVA: 3 | ACC: 4 | BH: 64 | LD: 5 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | REC: 8

Note: CS (Shades of the Gemini) is in use.  If any other player objects to this, please state in first post and it will be considered inactive.

"Wait?  You mean that it's optional?" The black-clad shadow man quipped as he rolled past her on the left.  Springing as he came up, Freyd snapped a rapid series of strikes against their target's legs.  A keening howl erupted from each point of impact as Samael's Pride unleashed the hungry void within.  Every blow passed through the troll's legs with devastating effect, literally devouring the pixels that made up the mobs in their wake.  It was like watching someone attack a pencil sketch with an eraser, literally removing bits of it with every swipe.  The beast howled, as much in surprise as any actual sense of pain, smashing its club around blindly.  As agile as Freyd was, the sheer amount of shrapnel being cast about managed to catch him in the leg as he tumbled out on the far side of the chamber.  

The troll, meanwhile, was not in great shape.  Most of its legs had just been hoovered into oblivion, leaving it to crumble to its knees as the rest fractured and crumbled from that point and below.  It looked like a belly flop onto concrete and likely felt about as comfortable, mitigated only by the beast dropping its weapon to protect its face.  

"Have at him, Mina!  That should have taken some wind out of his sails.  Let's finish this before anything else down here decides to come join the party."

***

Shades of the Gemini [Addon]
Cost: 10 SP
Passive

Requirements: Disguise [Extra] Skill (must be active)

Restriction: User cannot benefit from, or inflict, any returned damage enhancements or item effects based on an attackers dice roll [Thorns, Immolation, Aura].  This restriction does not affect the Parry skill or its mods/addons.

Effect: Disguise effects become a constant, passive, critical hits made against you only occur on a BD: 10, or BD:9-10 if the attacker has focus.  Additional narrative effects as noted below.

Description: Gleaned from extensive study of the Gemini, the Player learns to modify his own appearance and grant limited autonomy to their shadow, imbuing it with instruction and enabling it to appear as a duplicate that can act independently.  This shade can also divide itself into multiple further copies.  While not able to attack in any way, these duplicitous shadows serve as ongoing distractions during combat and carry potential for a broad variety of clandestine purposes. Narratively, the player can change his or her appearance at will: including voice, gender, gear worn and held, height and build. In addition, this can conceal the users cursor from view.
 

Floor four had a summer?!  Who knew?  The fact that it apparently only lasted for three days was ironically appropriate... but shouldn't it last four?  Any why did so much always happen in this particular level?  Mentally shrugging while his brain daydreamed through the mental gymnastics, the majority of Freyd's focus was on the festival unfolding before him.  Never had he seen Snowfrost as delightfully decked out in brilliant symbols of warmth.  Red and yellow pennants draped every street and building facade.  Vendors he had never heard of were suddenly lining every nook and cranny along the main street, offering treats and nick knacks to celebrate the Sun Solstice - a once in two hundred year event, if local legends were to be believed.

Children ran giddily every which way while cheerful smiles affixed themselves to every face, warmed by the closest thing this place ever experienced to a blazing summer sun.  In actuality, it was only a few degrees above freezing, and the whole place looked like it was experiencing global nasal drip, but everyone was too excited to care.  Ebullient vendors soon shoved some sort of frothy drink into his hands that looked like a root beer float mixed with what the system could never actually admit was golden ale. The glasses were likely chilled by having been left on someone's back porch the night before.  Catching a whiff of something grilled and savoury, Freyd wandered deeper into town following his nose.

"Is that... sausage?"  His free hand tried and failed to send a message to invite others to the join him.  There simply wasn't enough room in the press of the growing crowd to clearly access his UI.  "Oh, the hell with it," he finally concluded, giving up and setting himself to the daunting task of making the most of a rare opportunity just to have a little bit of fun.

***

@Oscar @Elora

Note: CS (Shades of the Gemini) is in use.  If any other player objects to this, please state in first post and it will be considered inactive.

Freyd consumes:

Gugnir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Crème Brûlée Tray | ACC 2 | Feast (6/6) - 1 portion 
Armageddon Juice (Potion) | Damage 3 | [179641] 
Mega Slime Farm Applied (+10% EXP, Nov.19/23)

Freyd shares:

Gugnir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Crème Brûlée Tray | ACC 2 | Feast (5/6)

Freyd | HP: 1180/1180 | EN: 152/152 | DMG: 26 | MIT: 103 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 7 | BH: 64 | LD: 5 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | REC: 8      

"Truer words, as they say."  The phrase signaled Freyd's agreement, catching a strangely pleased look in his companion's glance his way.  Who knew precisely what was going through the Jade Hunter's head in that moment?  Looking upon him in that moment, he only just realized how much the man's appearance reminded him of a certain someone.  Their comparative personalities were light years apart, with Hirru's being much more akin to Freyd's own.  "I'm honestly not sure where Morgiana sits in all of this.  She seems a pawn beholden to Ali, and yet appears and disappears with such conspicuous coincidence to catastrophe that it cannot be completely accidental.  Did Ali put her up to this by having her share that shard, or is she just some cursed carrier fated to deliver calamity?"  

Freyd blinked.

"Sorry.  I tend to use too many big words.  It's a childhood habit.  My parents were both academics with high standards and expectations.  It can be annoying, and I'm working on it."  A wave of void-wrapped hands dismissed his excessive verbosity to focus on their surroundings.  "I don't recognize any key details.  We're still definitely on Thirteen, judging by the stonework, but this floor has many secrets.  I wish I'd known it better before it fell."  Stray appendages in marble and alabaster sprung from the surrounding rubble at odd angles.  Memories of a lighter, angelic paradise lay strewn across every corner of this layer of Aincradian Hell. 

"Hey, did you ever see that old episode of Dr.Who where they faced off against the Angels - these super creepy, ultra-deadly assassin statues that could kill with a simple touch, but were only able to move when no one looked at them?"  Trigger the creepy awkward silence.  Uncertain why the memory had beckoned and resurfaced, Freyd slowly turned back to the statuary just to be sure.  It thankfully hadn't moved.  "Right.  Demons.  Let's keep it to demons instead.  Those are generally much more straightforward to deal with."

***

EN recovery 2/3

Listening to her admissions and explanations felt like it should be done in silence.  Rose was too often hard on herself, but he also noticed how she could swiftly turn dismissive and self-deprecating in her comments.  It was part of her tendency towards downward inner spiral that he'd found himself facing off against over and over against.  The look in her eyes when he bolstered her confidence and worth was utterly precious, like she'd never had the benefit of such support.  It made him want to wrap her in it and just keep her safe and contented - a noble and satisfying purpose.

A slim eyebrow raised in response to her concerns about funds.

"Do you realize that I just spent more preparing for the raid than most players have earned in their entire time here, several times over?"  A brief chuckle slipped his slips in amusement at how little his companion understood the vast quantity of wealth and possessions his obsessive hoarding habits had collected.  "Yeah, I wouldn't worry about it.  We can skip over those concerns and just assume that it's going to be just fine.  I will cover the costs.  Instead, we should probably start by thinking about where want this home to be, and what we want it to look like."  Glancing about their austere surroundings, Freyd was forced to admit that he had no idea what that should look like. 

"I built this place to suit who I was.  But I'm still struggling to figure out who I want to become.  How do I suggest what that person's home should look like?  What would you have it look like, El..."  

He paused.  A slender finger swept intertwined strands of verdant green bangs back to hook them behind her elfin ears.

"Elora?  Róisín?  What should I call you now without tugging on those memories?  I doubt the game will allow us to change your username, but... maybe when it's just us.  What would you prefer?"  Preferring to avoid having her dwell on those darker memories, he tried to focus her in the future instead. "And what do you want our new home to look like?"

"How did she hurt you?  Nothing else I've said will change, but I'm curious."  It was too rare a chance to glimpse into the person behind the mask he'd never realized was there.  How many people wore some manner of the same disguise?  It wasn't actually a surprising thought or revelation.  Freyd wore so many that he'd always just assumed most people did - though not Elora.  Her masks were made of mood, in his former mind, meant to conceal her true feelings.  He'd simply never considered that hers might actually hide her identity in this way.  Convention expected outrage, but Freyd would have none of it.  He'd fought too long and hard to find himself to feel anything of the sort.  If anything, he felt greater kinship than could ever be explained in words.  The whole turn was borderline delightful, easing hesitation and constraints long held about himself and his own personal circumstances.  It have him hope, that she might one day understand and accept in turn.

"I'm glad it was me. And -- isn't that kind of messed up?"

"It's not messed up at all. Our previous guessing game aside, we've all been in here for a long time.  All of us have changed and been forced to consider new perspectives. Second-guessing actions from an altogether different you?  That really just makes sense.  I'd honestly be more surprised - and worried - if you didn't."

"Everything's all twisted up," she said, laughing in a semi-maniacal way.  "I don't know who I'm supposed to be anymore."

The smile persisted, but sadness reflected in his eyes.  Freyd had told her the very same thing about himself, not very long ago.  Had she connected those dots at the time?  When a mirror looks at another mirror, what does it see?  Her lips interrupted, flushing the pending image out of mind before it could take hold.  Instinct called to him to lean in, compelled to savour the sweetness of the moment and forego the darker thoughts.  Every such moment felt like her saving him from himself.  Perhaps they were saving each other?

"Thank you for letting me ramble.", her words stopped abruptly while Eureka dawned all over her face. "You're like my little trellis, always giving direction to grow." 

A flush of warmth and rose upon the paleness of his cheeks.  How apt.  "It feels as much like you encourage the trellis to stand tall, and give it reason for being."

"You don't have to be like that, you know. Feeling like you'll be abandoned if you ever step out of line..."

"I know.  That revolution is far behind me now.  It's just strange to spot the moments when his influence resurges. My father's most important lesson was to be aware of what he was and why I chose to reject him.  But any child will struggle to find their identity in the absence of a role model.  Where do you turn?  What do you choose?  What signals moral right from wrong?  We turn to other examples around us."  It was clear that he meant her, at least in some fashion.  There were certainly other influences, most notably among their friends in Firm Anima.  "We emulate the best of them in ourselves."

"It's hard enough be yourself, let alone the version of yourself everyone else wants you to be."   Her hands drifted to his shoulders as she withdrew, albeit just a short distance.  "As long as you're happy with who you are, that's all I want for you."

"I'm happy with who you make me want to be.  And it's what I want for you as well."  

Looking at the polished surface of the pond, below, Freyd flicked a loose pebble from their perch to mar its stoic stillness.  "This place carries too much of who I was: Takeshi as his father wanted him to be.  It's cold and sterile.  I want life.  I want vibrant, messy chaos held in equilibrium.  I want us!"  Blinking, it was as if the words had never fully formed before in his consciousness, lingering at the umbral edge of shadow.  His voice had grown in confidence with every spoken syllable, convincing him of the truth he'd just revealed to himself as much as his companion.  Features perking as the notion gelled and increase in appeal, he dove all in.  "Let's build a home for ourselves: just you and me.  Let's make it about who we both want ourselves to be, together."

Silence reigned along with it consort Stillness.  Freyd looked stunned at her revelations, blue eyes shifting back and forth as his mind sifted through thoughts and consequences telegraphing his manic thought process.  You could practically hear the gears grinding them, trying to reclaim lost cadence and restore the natural order of a clockwork mind.  Most would render summary judgment upon her for such revelations.  Who would do such a thing?!  Moral hyperbole so often governed human response.  But not Freyd's.  Halting the tick and tocking motion of his flittering gaze, he'd quickly come to his conclusion and laced it with a kindly, graceful, heartfelt smile.  

"I'm glad you did it," he confessed with muted breath.  It was a purely selfish claim, sincerely stated with bluntness softened by the care worn into the edges of discerning eyes.  "Otherwise, we would never have met.  And I am terrified to think of who or what I might have become without you."  His voice cracked halfway through delivering the words, forcing him to clear his throat and purse his lips shut as he finished.  Raw feeling coursed through him  in waves, threatening to overwhelm with power far stronger than anything he'd ever faced before.  They sought to swallow him whole - just like the darkness.  Looking to the well and pool below, what first seemed like avoiding her gaze was actually an excuse to stare through Montjoy, the shade sprawled out beneath him like a marionette still tied to its strings.  Freyd knew better.  The void amidst the silhouette cast on the water was clearly looking back, as if waiting hungrily.

"It doesn't matter why you did it."  She caught a glimpse of him glancing back at her from the corner of his avoiding stare.  "Not to me.  Not now, nor ever.  It only matters that you're here and that our journey through this world brought us closer together."  Something told him he should feel ashamed, but he refused.  She's earned some respect and praise, damnit.  Not the condescension she thinks should be heaped upon her.

"Some would call it: destiny, the  hand of fate or simply the greatest of good fortune.  I don't care which applies, if any, or even none.  You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, ... Little Rose."  Turning his eyes again to hers, she saw the fierce fire of his resolve.  Every word was earnest and unconditional, declared with utmost conviction.  She could see it clear as day.  He'd take on any challenge, break any and every rules, and pay any price to keep what they had found.  It meant that much to him.  She... meant that much to him. 

I've already done so much worse than anything she could admit to in this moment.  Are these doubts the demons that haunt her in her dreams? 

In that moment, he wished those doubts and nightmares could be made into mobs and vanquished.  If only so that peace of mind were truly that simple to grant or achieve.  

"You are amazing, and far better than you ever let yourself believe. Your passion is blinding, whenever you allow yourself to let it shine.  Don't shade it with self-doubt.  Never think less of yourself because anyone else ever told you that you should, or because you somehow feel yourself unworthy.  We all fuck up.  Every single one of us, every day.  And, if pinching 'Elora's' prize in a pique of envy is what it took for us to find each other, then I will be forever grateful that you did."

Ripping, tearing and snapping sounds broke the pristine serenity of the space as something rummaged through the underbrush, felling several shoots and dangly bits from trees just beyond sight.  Freyd emerged a moment later, his arms filled to the brim with chopped bamboo shoots and slithering lengths of vine at least one of which was actually a snake. 

"Here," he added, matter-of-factly, handing Elora one of the longer poles to hold while casually plucking the serpent wound around it and tossing it back into the brush.  The tiny beast flailed helplessly as it sailed through the air, indignant that its fierce, predatory mien had been so utterly and casually ignored.  "These vines should be solid enough to lash everything together.  If you cut those in half again, Kat, we can get a squarer platform that should be easier to manage."  Instantly hard at work implementing some spontaneous, hair-brained scheme, something glimmered in the Whisper's eye at the prospect of actually pulling off this manifest madness.  "If only Burlock could see us now," he cackled gleefully, arms snapping taunt and winding the jungle wire in a motion not unlike donning his own hand wraps.  Wrangling a crosspiece to one end of each pole turned each into a viable oar, as Elora had wished.

"Ha!  There!  Now, come on, let's get this out into open water and go check out that reef while we still have some warmth and daylight.  Sunset on coral should look incredible!"

A shiver ran through his form, akin to a flicker or trick of the light.  Instantly his false fidget was gone, its purpose unfound and therefore abandoned.  In its aftermath, Freyd's neutral, piercing gaze had re-affixed itself to his features.  Clinically methodical, his machine brain had suddenly kickedinto high gear at hearing her words, searching his seemingly bottomless memory for clues to match the symptoms before him.   Strange how he never blinked in this mode.  It was as if his humanity was suspended for the sake of focus and priority to other, more cerebral functions.  It was nearly mob-like in how it strayed to the uncanny valley.  Those who knew him the longest would recognize the signs of 'old Freyd' from his earliest, most introverted self.  It was often unnerving, said to pierce into the soul if you looked back at him directly.  

"Well, I didn't exactly treat my body well back then...A fair amount of smoking, more than a fair amount of drinking."

A mild grimace. 

"I can hardly claim to have been the most conscientious on health care myself, though a certain degree of relentless parental badgering impressed some useful habits.  My dad was a real drill sergeant about routine, including a mandatory exercise regimen.  I might as well have been in boot camp from the time I could walk.  If I'm honest with myself, the sense of order it carried likely drew me to it by default."  Elora's casual dismissal failed to dissolve the possibility running rampant through his mind that this might be the onset of some bodily failure outside their common prison.  Without a frame of reference or any ability to verify, the discomforting possibility floated stillborn to plague his other thoughts and was eventually dismissed. 

There is nothing you could do about it, even if true. 

Such a cruel existence.

"So what's your theory? Has time stayed the same? Are we sitting right where we were when we logged on?"

"It seems impractical and unlikely that time is passing at the same speed here as outside.  Whatever is happening, society simply couldn't move fast enough to find, let alone care for all of the afflicted players in the short period since we became trapped.  Some - more - players' bodies would have failed, if that was the case.  It's impossible to know for certain, but my guess is that time is moving much more slowly outside, if 'outside'. exists.  The other possibility is that we're not even us at all, but merely copies of our consciousness shunted into this world for the sake of some twisted experiment, or Kayaba's sadistic pleasures.  Maybe we're just mobs with different bells and whistles."  The muscles in his jaw clenched as he spoke, belying a tension in meaning not evident in his voice.  Freyd was angry at the very thought, but tightly controlling those emotions. 

Do I tell her?  Could I even do so?  She could never handle it in this state.  Every time I've even tried to suggest the possibility everyone has inherently and instantly dismissed it.  Even her.

"Think of it this way: do we even actually know that we can die in here?  What evidence is there that we can?  That Kayaba himself told us so, and a corresponding name appears on a prominent marble slab whenever it happens?  Everything we supposedly know about our outside existence has been told to us by our jailor or falls to our own... 'memories'."  He looked as though he was about to use another word instead.  "We don't even really know if we are the 'us' each of us thinks we are from that world."  Something was stirring in him as he spoke.  Tone and volume remained perfectly calm and steady, but there was anathema behind his eyes - and intensity bespoke for this topic alone.   "No - I believe only one thing: that we are who we choose to be right here and now, and that the rest is as real and as useless as a whim in the wind."

"Maybe they found me at my friend's, using her NerveGear."

He nearly missed it.

"Your friend's..."  Pupils dilated as slender black brows rose through even his rigid control.  "Elora...,"  then more quietly, "...Róisín... do you believe that you are here by mistake?"

"You grew up on an island.  A cold, wet, miserable island that serves as the shield wall for trade winds, mind you."  A goofy and dismissive grin graced his soaking features as he undermined his own initial point.  "I doubt we'll find any boats up here.  We're nowhere near the settlements on the floor.  And if we did, it would mean that someone or something else lives up here."  Gazing at the surrounding shoreline, just in case, Freyd found no signs of any manmade constructs or habitation.  It was the third time he'd looked, instincts having already kicked in to double-check before stripping to his skivvies.  

A miniature tsunami settled the matter as Katoka's lightning wake washed over them both and drenched them entirely.  Freyd laughed even as he moved to make sure Elora would be fine, fishing her soaking seaweed mop from beneath the surface and pulling her up into his embrace.  "You're fine!  Perfectly fine," he reassured, chest still rumbling with chuckles.  Better not to make too big a deal about it, lest her penchant from panic trigger any further.  "Maybe we could build a raft of something we could just push along?  It shouldn't take too long to cobble together, and Katoka would still get to feel like she's walking on water without drowning you in the process."

A bit of blonde bobbed suspiciously from the water, where the lightning streak had faltered, no doubt planning its next bound of mischief.  Freyd whistled sharply and watched it turn his way.  

"Think we could chop a few of those down?" He waved towards a few palm trees near their picnic.  Vines from the nearby jungle should be serviceable as rope and they could easily find a few bamboo shoots to serve as poles and oars.

"Has this only been since the raid, or did you have these dreams before?"  Freyd spoke slowly and deliberately, pacing out his words with sips from his own tea while his mind parsed and pondered.  Breathing in the vapours streaming from the cup provided added calm and clarity of focus.  He'd have to thank Elora for finding this blend once this was all settled. "I don't want to dredge up more bad memories, but that sounds a lot like what I would have imagined Shadow's flood to have felt like.  We never really talked too much in detail about that."  He looked pensive, possibly uncomfortable himself.  "It wasn't something I thought I should pry into, unless you brought it up."

Eyes drifting down to the bits of leaf floating as future dregs in the tiny pool of brown water lingering in his cup, he ventured another possibility.  "My only other thought is that this is something from before... before SAO, I mean."  He dare not meet her eyes as he spoke the words, convinced that she would only retreat.  For all their heart to heart conversations, Elora... Róisín... had always been very coy about revealing anything of her prior life.  "You've shared your name with me, and home, but little else of who you were.  Is there maybe some connection?"

It was Freyd's turn to fidget now, deliberately mimicking her actions so that she would understand his own uncertainty without having to speak it.  For all her strength, there was something at her core that still innately sought to disable her from within.  Was it trauma?  Any probing would be sensitive, possibly dangerous.  She came to me. If not now, when could I ever ask such a thing?

Listening to Elora recount experiences drew instant parallels to his own.  Freyd also hadn't felt right since the raid either.  In his case, it seemed rooted in longstanding issues made to resurface by contact with the void in Wushen, and other similar encounters since.  Something about that darkness always called to him.  Montjoy was its most obvious manifestation, yet he had fallen strangely silent of late.  It would have taken a lot for Elora to give voice to these concerns.  She had demons of her own, he'd come to learn, and their clutches drained confidence and any sense of self-worth.   She meant too much to him to ever let something like this slide.  

"Yes, I've had some troubles of my own since the raid, but we've already dealt with that.  Tell me what you're feeling.  What do you see, in these dreams? What do you recall?"  Topping up her tea again, he'd keep the fluid flowing for as long as might be needed.  Her body language spoke volumes to her discomfort, the signs having been well-learned over time.  This was big, and bothering her badly. He could tell.  Turning to better face her, Freyd legs folded in a lotus form beneath him.  All around them, shadows bent and leaned in as if to better listen yet also blot out any potential for distraction.  Elora became the focal point of tenebrous cocoon, even as shades gathered round doing so only in a strangely soothing manner.  It felt as if the world was gifting them a muted place of privacy and safety where secrets could be spoken without fear or consequence.  Freyd maintained her hand upon his knee and kept his over hers.  His touch was tender and soothing, waiting without push or pressure.  "What is it that's bothering you?"

Maybe it was an unintentional byproduct of the skill, or maybe just Freyd's own personal extension, but he'd always examined people in much the same way as he did the treasures they brought him to evaluate.  Elora had always been a diamond in the rough, in his eyes, and woefully undervalued, principally in her own eyes.  With careful nudging and encouragement, he'd gleaned glimpses of the prize that awaited her at the end of her journey.  it was a gift to watch someone come into themselves - like watching a rose gradually come into bloom.  In this moment, however, it seemed as though the artist struggled with her work. 

His next hurdle was expressing those concerns.  Some people couldn't contain their emotions and spent their lives awash in their tides.  Freyd was quite the opposite.  It took conscious effort for him to fathom his own feelings, and doubly so to actually express them.  While well-suited to the function of a spook, it made simple acts of connection and relationship many times more complicated than might otherwise be necessary.  Fortunately, a morning of pensive meditation over the pond had left him well-prepared.

"Hey," he started, softly, while gently placing his hand over hers and she sat next to him.  "Is something bothering you?  Maybe keeping you from sleeping?"  Easing of his constantly stern semblance was about as close to sympathy and concern as he could instantly display.  It wasn't a look that came easily to his features, though the expression was genuine.  Slight tensing of his hand signaled a level of caring no others had ever earned, even asthe light bulb flared invisibly over his head.

"A good friend of mine recently put me on to this particularly soothing blend of tea," he chuckled, summoning a pair of white porcelain cups better suited to coffee, yet somehow perfect for the impromptu nature of the moment.  "Maybe she'd appreciate a taste in return?  I might have sought it out and stocked up on the stuff since I last saw her."  Truth was, he'd filled half his inventory capacity.  Moderation in collecting was never his strong suit.

"Don't worry about it," Freyd replied casually.  "Persi's probably already skimming the bottom of the pond, teasing him with her flaring eyes in the darkness.  She can be quite the tease... just about always, actually."

"I'm glad that I can rely on you to be up during any time of day"

Head bobbing with a snort, he was about to deny it when he realized that there wasn't much point.  Part of him wanted to rouse a defense about occupational hazards, or somesuch, but Elora deserved better.  "Yeah.  I'm, uh... working on that.  It's not really the sort of habit you can kick overnight."  A sliver of smirk caught the edges of his lips at the phrase.  "I used to think it might be possible to train yourself to ignore sleep in the game.  To an extent, it is possible, the effects inevitably catch yup with you.  Everything has a price."  Spoken like a true appraiser.

 "So, no work today? Work already finished? Work...about to begin?"

"There's always work.  Never.  And, always?"  A quick flick at the back of his head pulled off the trademark cowl.  Elora had earned the right of removal through patience and endurance of his insatiable edginess.  She needn't ever ask.  The barrier would just be gone whenever she needed it.  Freyd looked better than he had in the past.  His gaunt paleness finally had a hint of colour.  Maybe the beach time had done him some good?  "Regardless, I'm always available when you need me.  So, what's up?  Just out for a stroll, or hoping your familiar will drown himself so we can go hunt for another?"  The pond below burbled and swirled as a whirlwind of stones chase after azure-eyed shadows.

Morgiana's words rang ominously beneath the cowl, calling out alarms in Freyd's mind. Few were as intimately versed in the mixed verbiage and double-speak of bare and disguised truths.  Even to speak of their dance so plainly was to court calamity.  But were they her words or Ali's parroted as disclosure or foreshadowing.  She vanished before he could ask.

"So," Freyd started, "do you feel like things just got better or worse?  I'm still not sure what Ali's really been up to with all of this, and the whole demon metamorphosis things seems far too random to leave unexplained.  You might be right about his hidden meanings and intentions."  Freyd's gaze drifted to the blood stone fragment left behind, wondering at its strangely familiar colouring.

"Wish I could do that," mentioned the Hunter, whose greenish scheme seemed suddenly tinged with a hint of envy.  

"Nah, man," Freyd replied, distracted by his study of the shard. "Not worth it.  You have better uses for your Extra Skill slots.  It seems fair to claim that few other players in the game could match your talents as a healer these days.  Your performance at the recent raid only reaffirmed it."  The Whisper didn't even notice as his companion lifted the slim scroll, mistaking his offer as a question.

"Dungeon?"

"Hmm?  Where?"  He barely managed to register the crimson flash that suddenly arced from the shard to the scroll, reality warping suddenly around them as both men fell a short distance to new footing.  Their surroundings had changed and a throaty groan slipped from Freyd's lips.  "Crap.  Yeah.  Definitely a dungeon.  Frikkin' Ali strikes again.  My money's on more demons."

***

EN recovery 1/3

Few people knew the interior of Freyd's personal abode, and with good reason.  Firm Anima's spymaster had no shortage of enemies, overt and obscure.  It was an occupational hazard to which his erratic personality was well suited, yet most just thought him paranoid.  Both could be true.  His first furtive forays from the Town of Beginnings would only have confirmed it.  So much had happened since his face-off against himself.  How deeply dipped in foreshadowing that he'd faced off against his gemini during his first quest. 

Feet dangling over the edge of a carefully manicured opening, Freyd stared at the perfectly still pool below.  Stray pink petals from the wisteria trees surrounding his personal fishing pool drifted slowly passed, the rarest and bravest daring to perch upon its mirrored surface.  Resulting ripples marred the sublime serenity of the scene.  More importantly to the object of his current focus, the image of the other Freyd wavered like some poor projection on a failing, antiquated monitor. 

'How apt,' he thought to himself.

The Liminal Blind was built as the symbolic border of the prison world that was their present reality.  Most dreamed of reaching through the looking glass and returning home.  Freyd saw something else.  Simmone's mirror had hinted at the truth, but he'd been too distracted by Tuatha's tale and Takeshi's revelation.  The silhouette below, with features likewise buried beneath a cowl of secrecy, stared back.  Sterility in the modern style, the influence of his father's academic obsessions, had dominated his home's designs despite his best intentions.  Takeshi hated his father, whom he saw as an egoist and narcissistic tyrant to busy preening about his own intellect to notice his own irrelevance.  Imagined Montjoy's voice mentioned something about pots and kettles in the recesses of his mind.  They didn't actually speak much these days.

"Mood."  Barely whispered, the word captured the essence of the man as well as Freyd's displeasure.  "The mood of this place is all wrong.  It's all him, and not... who I want to be."  Flashes of running in the forest, strange dance-offs with elves over dragons, the warmth of steady slumbering breaths and wisps of verdant hair leaning restfully upon his shoulders.  The infectious giggle of nervous or anxious uncertainty mixed with the wanton randomness of whim and chaos gleaned behind a pair of bright, blue eyes burgeoning with growing confidence.  A certain scent of tea permeated his thoughts.  Closing his eyes and blocking out the Blind, Freyd could smell it through the memory, unless... 

"Wait a sec..."

Turning his hood towards the clattering shamble of stones at the outer gates of his monastery home revealed Borris, harbinger of his mistress' arrival, the lonely figure sitting feeling wrong about a setting of his own making suddenly felt a lot better.

"Heh.  I was just thinking of you... well, you, actually," he added pointing over the rolling rock pile towards Elora, lest her familiar think a little too much of himself.  A smile spread beneath eyes that twinkled with something much cheerier than his suddenly forgotten ponderings.

"What a pleasant surprise."

***

Freyd | HP: 1180/1180 | EN: 152/152 | DMG: 23 | MIT: 103 | EVA: 2 | ACC: 4 | BH: 64 | LD: 5 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | REC: 8