Them

"It's a deal." Cleo, impressed and glad for having run into the other player, nodded. The arrangement was good, if not far more beneficial to Cleo, as Krysta could certainly blow past a quest like <<Earning a Living>> alone.

A little time later, outside the bounds of the starting city, the players would wander along a beaten path, traversed by many of the game's remaining players in its time, if not all of them. The day was calm, quiet. A steady breeze hung in the air that caused the trees and the flora to sway back and forth, carrying the occasional leaf up and into the sky. A nearby riverbed, home to many critters, was decorated with thickets of Flax along its banks. And, when Cleo managed to snag the first one of the day, it seemed a suitable place to find materials.

"So, you look like you can take care of yourself," started Cleo, her attention swaying between Krysta and the track ahead, curious to learn more about the woman. "Not in a bad way. It's nice to have somebody like that around, to feel at ease out here."

ID: 203986 | LD: 18 + 3 = 21 (Success!) (1/5)

@Krysta

Despite pricking a thumb on the numerous shards of glass in her clothes and hair, Cleo managed to get rid of them all, save for a few possible stragglers she couldn't see. It gave her time to reflect on what the hell she was thinking, venturing away from the Town of Beginnings for the first time and to such a high floor, far from any town and semblance of safety. In truth, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, a whim after eavesdropping on a party's conversation near the portal in the starting town. 'An easy quest,' they said, 'better to take at a lower level.' And what was not to love about that?

At any rate, the player was well underway to completing it. As annoying as it was, the first demon didn't withstand a single attack. The others, she thought, would be similar in strength and that the real challenge would be to face the worsening demons. The first was low, but she failed to imagine what could be more sinister than that. Would the game continue to tackle her trauma? Uncover truths even she didn't know?

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 60/60 | EN: 18/24 (+1) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5

Out from the darkness and into the light, Cleo left her old dorm room and came out onto the stage once again, the planks creaking beneath her feet. When the player reached the centre of the arena, she took around at the remaining portals, and then back to the first one, which had since disappeared.

The entity, sitting one row down from where it sat before, clapped, in the same rhythm before. Now, though, it was louder, reverberating around the perimeter of the arena, a thump to it.

"Enjoying the show?" retorted the purple-head, now realising the shards of glass wrapped up in her clothes from the fight with the first inner demon. She began to pick the pieces out, all the while listening to the entity's applause. "You'll have to do better than that. You don't know how long I've wanted to stab myself."

Its smile, Cleo swore, grew wider. Like that was exactly what it'd wanted her to say.

Backtracking, and perhaps reassuring herself, Cleo clarified. "Not like that."

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 60/60 (+3) | EN: 17/24 (+1) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5

A stand-off, a moment of calm. Was the demon looking at Cleo or through her, trying to peer inside and learn all that it could?

Whatever it was doing, Cleo readied up, trying for another attack. She targeted the demon. As she stood ready, so did the imitation, mirroring her movements, right down to her trembling fingers wrapped around the hilt of the rusty dagger. 

A glow, a push forward.

Slash!-

"Ah!"-

A thud, a shattering.

The demon, reduced to zero health, faded away.

The door, casually, opened, allowing light from the Elizabethan theatre and its numerous spotlights to flood the room. Cleo could now see it all and realized that it was barely her old room at all. A pale imitation, with the rough placement of furniture and suggestion of decoration, but lacking any of her actual dorm room's personality.

It wasn't accurate, but by God, it was familiar.

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 57/60 | EN: 20/24 (+1) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

ID: 203985 | BD: 8 (Hit!) <<ST-I>> vs First Inner Demon

• 'Them' hits!
  • (4 * 4) - 1 = 15 DMG!

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 57/60 | EN: 16/24 (-4) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 0/15 (-15) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

A respite in the battle had let Cleo size up her demon, an imperfect shadow of herself. Its skin, pale against her own, even in the dingy-lit room. Its eyes, while familiar, were washed out as if the colors had faded. Its clothes, worn, ruined by days of wear without washing, were typical for Cleo back then.

At least it hadn't kept her sharp tongue and was limited in what it could spout. Or, at the very least, it was holding back. For now, the vague insults and empty threats were easy for Cleo to brush off. She'd thick enough skin for that.

The being, not yet worn from battle, took another swig from its bottle, chugging on its contents until the final drop was gone. It shook the glass around, desperate for the last trace of liquid within, and grunted, tossing it aside upon realizing the container was empty.

The demon's attention stuck on Cleo and Cleo's on it.

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 57/60 | EN: 21/24 (+1) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

ID: 203951 | BD: 1 (Miss!) <<ST-I>> vs First Inner Demon | MD: 2 (Miss!) |

• 'Them' misses!
• 'First Inner Demon' misses!
• They both suck.

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 57/60 | EN: 19/24 (-2) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

Lunging into action, Cleo would line up another attack against the demon as it drank. Her rusty dagger illuminated the dark corner of the room, though another expert dodge from the demon saw the player strike wide and the tip of the blade pierce the mirror behind instead. It shattered and sent shards of silver glass raining across the floor, some catching in the folds of Cleo's robes and hair.

In the only piece of mirror that had been left unscathed, she could see the edge of the entity's piercing white smile. It was watching every battle, every move, taunting her at every waking moment. Cleo unraveled, serious doubts lingering as to whether this quest was too much, too soon. The game knew too much. It was too clever for her, too quick. Hopeless and very close to clutching her teleportation crystal to return to the Town of Beginnings, she would shake those thoughts from consideration. She knew she was okay, her health still high, with no real threat of death.

None of this was real. The player tried to remind herself, This thing is not me.

Slash!-

"Ah!-"

And that was starting to get rather annoying.

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 58/60 | EN: 22/24 (+1) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

ID: 203948 | BD: 3 (Miss!) <<ST-I>> vs First Inner Demon | MD: 8 (Hit!) |

• 'Them' misses!
• 'First Inner Demon' hits!
  | 4 - 5 = 1~ DMG

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 57/60 (-1) | EN: 20/24 (-2) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

Slowly, Cleo would come to realize what the demon was. Who the thing was supposed to be, and when it was supposed to be.

It was herself toward the end of her time at University, shortly before checking into a hospital for substance abuse. A low point, one of the weakest in Cleo's life, a time which she worked tirelessly with a therapist to forget, to help her move on. It was a ghost of her past, a part of herself that she thought was gone forever. And the fucker had just stabbed her.

Slash!-

"Ah!"-

Her attention fixed on the demon, Cleo attempted a sword art in retaliation, the very weakest in the game, but would ultimately miss the aggressor. "Grr, so fast!"

"So sssad!" It cackled grossly, a cloud of spit spewing out of its lips. In its hands was another bottle, droplets splashing as the liquid sloshed around inside, which it drank from unashamedly.

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 59/60 | EN: 23/24 (+1) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

ID: 203946 | BD: 5 (Miss!) <<ST-I>> vs First Inner Demon | MD: 7 (Hit!) |

• 'Them' misses!
• 'First Inner Demon' hits!
  | 4 - 5 = 1~ DMG

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 58/60 (-1) | EN: 21/24 (-2) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

Soon, the silhouette would stop clapping. It would stare, unnaturally still, unwavering in its smile.

Then, it would beckon the player to the first door. Cleo, uncertain of what to make of the situation, yet teetering on caution, began toward it, which was at the very south edge of the stage. It had a number on it, 8C, a handle, yet no hole for a key. During her approach, a vague familiarity would overwhelm her, but why? She asked herself, Why the hell is it familiar?

It struck her, the realization. It was the door to her University dorm.

No. I loved it there, the ex-student reasoned. I love it there!

"How dare you." She addressed the entity, scowling. "That place, of all places, is where I felt most at peace. Don't you dare twist my reality into something that it isn't."

Fucking NerveGear.

The door burst open as Cleo passed through into the room inside. Darkness. She unearthed a weapon, her trusty rusty dagger, and proceeded with caution across the carpeted floor. A single light was flickering above, revealing the bed, and then the desk, and then the wardrobe, and then the mirror across the room.

In the mirror, a figure. A bottle in one hand, a dagger in the other.

The door slammed shut, shattering glass shrieked, and-

Slash-

"Ah!-"

A blade tore through Cleo's side, which she clucked in a panic and stumbled to one knee.

"Oh, you're pa-thhh-etic," The figure started, stumbling, their speech slurred, as the lights finally flashed on.

"That sounds like..." Cleo stared up at her aggressor.

It was herself.

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 60/60 | EN: 24/24 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

ID: 203937 | BD: 5 (Miss!) <<ST-I>> vs First Inner Demon | MD: 6 (Hit!) |

• 'Them' misses!
• 'First Inner Demon' hits!
  | 4 - 5 = 1~ DMG

Them | Lv. 3 | HP: 59/60 (-1) | EN: 22/24 (-2) | DMG: 4 | MIT: 5
First Inner Demon | HP: 15/15 | DMG: 4 | MIT: 1

A quietness, eerie, filled the air, choking out any sounds that deigned to occupy the void.

Cleo, calm, in touch with oneself, was cross-legged atop a rock that poked out from the shallows of a pond, her fingers creating ripples in the water as they disrupted the current. The journey there, nauseating, sufficed to say, was quick. An escort provided safe passage through the dense brush of the sixth-floor jungles and into the Waterfalls of the Sage, and would do so on the way back, provided she concluded her business in time.Time passed, units uncertain.

The quietness ceased to be. Dull thudding permeated the silence.

One eye opened slowly, inviting in the light. It was blinding; numerous spotlights beamed from high above, collecting where she sat. The other eye opened, and with it, shapes revealed. Below was a wooden decking, which knocked when she stuck a boot out in front to raise herself. The light dampened, and the rest of the environment painted into existence; All around her was a sprawling Elizabethan theatre. The wooden stage upon which she stood, surrounded by a sea of chairs across hundreds of rows, was enveloped in thunderous applause: the seats, empty, every last one of them.

In an instant, the applause stopped.

A moment later, a single set of hands clapped, slowly, inconsistently. Above, a figure as black as the void, with a piercing white smile, clapped.

Four doors in either direction were presented to Cleo, which she noticed, but made no reaction, for her attention remained on the silhouette.

"..."

"..."

Stats and Equipment:

A pragmatic reason for wanting to be a tailor, Cleo thought. "Makes sense." Early impressions of the blonde woman were that she was resourceful and, more importantly, knowledgeable about the game. She assumed the player was a higher level, high enough to have seen a few of the floors above at least. After she accepted, the quest dialogue disappeared with a bloop, and she exited Richard Textillion's boutique alongside her apparent quest buddy.

The other player had been first to speak up, and to what she said, Cleo agreed. Krysta was assuredly more experienced than Cleo. Her attention glided to the necklace around the woman's neck and then to the little music box attached to her belt, which she twisted around to reveal. "I'm good, thanks. This thingy has a luck bonus," she divulged with a tap, which caused the box to chime for a second. "As for places to look, I'm so sorry, but I haven't got a clue. I'm only Level 3, which probably makes it worse, given how much time I've spent on the first floor." She laughed nervously, smiling all the while. "Hopefully, that doesn't put you off too much? If it's any consolation, I'm a bit of a good luck charm when it comes to gathering." That was about her speedy attempt at <<The First Lesson>> which, Cleo was almost sure, she'd completed in record time.

@Krysta

The other player, a woman of blonde hair and blue eyes, was clad in a set of striking, finely detailed armor. It was in stark contrast to Cleo, who wore a body-length duster jacket and a pair of worn boots for an almost vampiric appearance, akin to a grave-keeper more than anything else. Krysta spoke softly, friendly, to which Cleo smiled in kind. "Cleo. Nice to meet you, Krysta." At that point, the purple-head noticed her mistake, recovered the trinket from the ground, and joined the other player, offering a nod as thanks for holding the door open.

Richard Textillion had taken notice of the two and broke into greetings immediately. Cleo adored him in all of his fabulousness and responded first. "I hear you're the one to come to learn to tailor, is that right?" 

The player's question pleased the man, who laid a hand on a counter adorned with dresses, and another hand on his hip. "And you've decided to seek guidance from the master? I can hardly blame you for that." Without giving them a second to breathe, he continued. "Unfortunately, my fabric is all top-of-the-line, and hardly the quality for a novice to experiment with. Should you gather your own materials, I would be happy to help you." 

A small window appeared before each player, prompting them to accept the quest. Cleo looked over to Krysta. "Oh, are you choosing Tailor as well?"

@Krysta

Cleo's wish to pursue tailoring was simple, if not incredibly naive. As a former drama student in the real world, she wanted to bring theatre to the death game to help raise morale in the Town of Beginnings, where the mood could often be bleak. To do this, one would need to create outfits, many outfits in a variety of sizes, with accessories and props to go with them. That would be too much work to bother the game's leading tailors with, who were already in such short supply, so she decided to take the initiative and become one herself.

And so it was that Cleo made headway for Richard Textillion's shop, where every tailor's journey began. The walk was typical for the starting town, NPCs and low-levels going about their business with little care for anything more than what concerned themselves at the moment. In a lot of ways, Cleo was the same, but she had grown tired of the mundanity in recent times. There was a whole world out there, teeming with mysteries and unexplored corners, and she'd felt a growing desire to get out there and conquer it. For now, baby steps. Costumes and silly hats were her main priority.

After arriving at the storefront, Cleo stopped just before the door when she endeavored to do some inventory management. It was only the previous day that she learned how to equip a sword, and she wanted to make sure that her luck bonus trinket was working properly.

Approaching footsteps alerted her to another's presence, causing her to turn away from the inventory screen. "Hm?" In a moment of clumsiness, she misclicked the 'Drop Item' button, unbeknownst to Cleo removing the <<music box.>> from her person and onto the ground below. "Oh, my bad," apologised the purple-head, who stepped aside to let the other player into the shop.

@Krysta

Stats and Equipment:

"I'm busy," spoke the gruff, bearded man, who Cleo had already decided was her least favorite of the tutorial NPCs.

Not one so easily dissuaded, she launched into conversation. "I promise this will only take a second! See, the Mayor," was as far as she got.

"I don't do anything without payment. Go kill a couple of those pesky boarlets for me, and bring back their tusks. They're pretty weak, so even you shouldn't have any trouble. Do that, then I'll hear you out."

Cruscius wasn't wrong; I gotta kill something. Bummer. Lyle had returned to whatever it was he was doing before the player bothered him- from Cleo's perspective, it looked as if he were smacking a rod of metal repeatedly to no significant effect. Still, she reasoned it to be the beginnings of a new blade. A blue window appeared with a button to accept the quest, which she pressed in resignation. "Rude." She didn't check to see if the smith heard that.

Cleo's visit to the Blacksmith's shop was short but not wasted. Faced with a new challenge and the right tools to tackle it - a <<Rusty Dagger>> - she felt able enough to grapple with some piggies. Some time ago, on the path to Tolbana, she'd seen a couple of the boarlets romping around all menacing-like, so she intended to make that her first port of call.

The day was young and the weather mild, with the sun beaming down on the city and the lands outside. Not many players were around since it was still morning, perfect for the relatively low-level player. One had to keep their wits about them away from the safe zones, and she'd be toast if a PK'er so much as breathed in her direction.

And so it was, hunched behind a mossy rock with a good vantage point, that Cleo took hold of her dagger, intending to use it for the first time. Keyword, 'intending.' She hadn't the slightest clue how to use the bloody thing, much less initiate a sword art.

"Why's there not a manual? All good games have a bloody manual," lamented the player, knowing very well she would not have read it if one did exist.

It had been long since Cleo wished for a reminder of home, of what life was like before. A spur-of-the-moment decision led the player to The Evening Star, having eavesdropped heard of the famed artisanry from a party of passerby's earlier in the day.

The variety of odds and ends on display caught Cleo's attention, and she casually strolled across the shop floor, boots thumping with each step. The player didn't know what she was browsing for or if she was even looking to make a purchase, as it was equally likely that nothing in stock could provide the comfort so desperately craved.

As luck would have it, a peculiar music box provoked her curiosity. It wasn't dissimilar to the ones in her Mother's collection in the cabinets of the dining room, in the real world, of course. It was enough to invoke a passing smile. "Excuse me? I want to purchase this, please."

 music box. | TIER 1 PERFECT TRINKET; 500 col | #203379 | [•] | infinity.

@NIGHT

Thread Finished

Thread Rewards

• 675 EXP (4,076 words / 30 = 135~, 135 * 5 = 675)
• 400 Col

<<The First Lesson>> Rewards

• 450 EXP
• 500 Col
• 5 materials
• (5) T1 Uncommon Health Potions: Heals 5% of Maximum HP.
• (1) T1 Uncommon Damage Potion: +1 DMG for an entire thread.
• (1) T1 Uncommon Overhealth Potion: Adds 5% of Maximum HP to users Maximum HP for a thread.
• (1) T1 Uncommon Health Potion, quality is based on Crafting Results.

Total EXP and Col

• 1,125 EXP
• 900 Col

Friends: 1. It was not a bad day overall. She had finished her first quest, made her first friend in Sword Art Online, and learned a valuable tidbit of information that would help her set off outside the city and into the greater beyond. "Yeah, anytime. See you around!"

Cruscius bid the other player adieu with a friendly wave and headed off down the same street Yrden had minutes ago.

Once again, Cleo was alone. However, it didn't feel the same as it did before. Back when she'd been lounging around on a fence post, nary a thought running through her silver head, she'd been truly alone, not a single associate with which to associate. Now, she had a purpose—the beginnings of a new social circle, exciting thoughts, and tangible goals to aim toward and look forward to. Her attention drifted toward the sky, to the marshmallow clouds which floated lazily beneath the first floor's ceiling, to nothing in particular—a return to a state of aloof contentedness.

Cruscius drew up his arms in caution, "Okay, okay! Can't say that it's the most exciting story in the world."

Cleo gave him a stern look.

"Sorry, not a word more about the questline. If you're interested, though, there are lots of interesting quests out there to do, and most of them involve combat in some shape or form. If you level up a few times, we can hit some of those together if you want?" 

A friend? Ecstatic, she nodded, perhaps too vigorously. "Yes. God knows I'm screwed if I go out there by myself." A window appeared in front of Cruscius and, a couple of seconds later, an invite came through. A friend invite. "Got it. Done! What does this do, sorry?"

"That'll let us keep in touch. I'm mainly on the third floor, so we probably won't bump into each other too much down here." Cruscius stood up, stretched his legs, and breathed a heavy sigh. "Thank you for the talk and for keeping my mind off of Yrden."

Cleo sat on this new information, pondering for a while. A weapon skill, was that a good move? Could the guy be trying to screw her over? It felt like the first logical step to do damage and defend oneself. "Alright, guy, you got it. I'll get myself some metal and, I guess, slice up a couple of piggies. I never thought I'd be saying that outside of a production." Noticing a little bit of confusion from Cruscius, Cleo elaborated. "Theatre production, I'm involved with a lot of that at University. Well, I was, before the game, and some other stuff." She shook her head, "Unrelated. Sorry, enough about me."

"I just beat <<The First Lesson>>. I have to see some Blacksmith, Lyle, I think. Can I get a weapon there?"

Cruscius nodded, appearing somewhat hung up on what Cleo had said previously but not enough to backtrack the conversation. "Should be able to, you can get an Uncommon one by completing the quest as well. You'll want it for the quest after that, too."

The silver-haired player swatted at the air. "Ah-ah-ah! Spoilers! Don't tell me where this loan thing goes; I want to find out for myself."

"Yeah, get out of here, buddy," laughed Cleo, "I saw a guy on the first day get impaled by one of those things, right through the chest. Sad, now that I think about it."

Cruscius just shook his head. "Don't let day one impressions put you off. Many people died then. That was before anybody knew what to do or that there were even any consequences to dying. Poor guy was probably trying to test out the death mechanic." Cleo watched him sit up. "The next time you get the urge to go out there, try going out with a weapon and spec into a weapon skill. For the most part, they're all good, so it's up to preference. If you want to be quick and have the best chance of dodging, I recommend the dagger, otherwise something hard-hitting, like an ax."

It was a shame that she hadn't a notepad, but she followed along and made a few mental notes. The skill menu was familiar, for she'd examined it a couple of times but never felt the want to spend points on anything. Hardly any skills were helpful to her in town.

"Is there anything else? Oh, yeah, <<The First Lesson>> gives you some useful stuff, definitely do that before you go out fighting."

Anything holding you back? Yes, Cleo wanted to say. Crippling unease of the unknown, of things that lurk in the shadows in the open world outside the starting city. Of the blood-stained people who had slain another, living person under the faux-anonymity the game provided them. The fear of dying, of not seeing her family ever again. Of wasting years of life in a world which she had only entered in the first place due to feeling bad for her father's misguided gift, the NerveGear.

"Maybe. No. Kinda," started the player, putting her thoughts together. "I'm not about to go run out there and die. I'm not a 'game' person, and I didn't come here to kill things, level up, or get the strongest armor. I came here to explore my thoughts, feelings, and sense of self. I can do all of that in town."

"Oh." Cruscius hadn't been expecting that answer, clearly. "Fair enough. It's not for everybody. There's some scary stuff out there. But, it's not all that bad, at least on the first couple of floors. Those boars that hang around the city go down in one or two hits from anything, pretty much."

"Nice," blurted Cleo, "Cool name, a little better than mine. I'm Cleo, but my username's Them. Level 1."

The two exchanged a handshake when curiosity overcame the higher-level player. "Them, huh? I bet that gets a little confusing sometimes for others."

After contemplating that thought for a second, she shrugged. "Maybe, I guess. I wanted it to be ambiguous, mysterious even. When you hear somebody say the word, then you'll never know who they're talking about, that kinda thing." Cleo felt immersed in a rare sense of comfort from the conversation and found herself genuinely relaxing for the first time in a long, long while.

"Hm. Well, that might work out for you," smiled the guy, his full attention given to Cleo. "It's too bad you're only Level 1. Not a lot of people like that around anymore. Anything holding you back, or?" Cruscius, now even more curious, faced the rest of his body toward the silver-haired player.

"Oh, where to start." Exasperation was rife in his voice. Cleo was enthralled, listening. "Me and Yrden, that asshat, met a little while ago on a quest. I saved him from a pack of wolves, damn close to death too, and we've been buddies ever since. Guy's a little cocky, but he seemed alright." There was a noticeable shift in his tone. "Until this morning, that is. We're on the third floor grinding monsters for perfect items when two of them drop at the same time, and he gets the last attack on both of them. I weakened them down to nothing, so I deserve at least one of them, right?"

Cleo panicked at the game talk, for she hadn't gotten the game's terminology down just yet; Days ago, she assumed 'AoE' was a funky way of saying 'ouch.' "Duh, obviously," resorting to blind agreement, which was convincing enough for Cruscius.

"Thank you!" He seemed to be glad that somebody else was listening to his side of the story. "I was even gonna let him take the first one we got and keep grinding for the second one, but I'm not strong enough to go out there safely by myself, so I doubt I'll be able to try again until I level up a little more." Cruscius grimaced. "Just when you think you know a guy, huh."

"Sorry, got carried away there a little bit." His voice reset, becoming softer, and he held a hand out to Cleo. "I'm Cruscius, Level 5."

At first, distracted from the pain, Cruscius ignored the approaching Cleo and was much more concerned with the consequences of his misguided action. He turned pretty hastily, an annoyed glint in his eye, which softened on seeing who the other person was. Or at least, who the other person wasn't. "What? Oh, yeah," he shook his fist, seeming to have outlasted the pain. His eyes, a dark brown, were partially obscured by strands of black hair, which he brushed to one side. "It's fine. Thank you for caring, I guess. At least there's one decent person around here!" The man then made a rude gesture at his fleeting associate, who may have caught the raised words but was most likely out of earshot.

Cleo, relieved to have the opportunity to have a human conversation, gestured at a bench next to them and moved to sit down. "Hey, I don't know about decent, but I hope I'm nicer than that guy." Sat down with a leg crossed over the other, an arm hanging behind the bench, and a curious look in her mauve eyes, she looked at Cruscius, who had also taken a seat. "What was that all about, anyway? That guy holding out on you?"

"Come on, don't be a dick!" yelled a shorter man, clothed in a set of basic leather armor and a beautifully embroidered cloak, with long black hair streaming below his shoulders. His aggression seemed geared to another player, who was far taller and clad in a set of armor with a distinct lion shape pressed into his chest piece.

The taller man snorted. "I keep tellin' you Cruscius, finder's keepers. Get back to me when you got the Col." With a flash of a hand, he waved the other player goodbye, a smirk plastered on his face when he turned to leave. Cruscius, as the now-departed man had referred to him as, with a fist curled up, yelled in frustration at what was demonstrably a dispute between the two and threw a punch at the nearby wall, almost immediately recoiling from the pain.

Cleo, a witness to the drama and always wanting to help a (possible) friend in need, approached the writhing Cruscius with an odd mix of amusement and caution. She made her presence known with a wave and slowed to a stop, hands in pockets, before him. "Hey," the silver-head started, "You alright? Does it hurt at all?" she took a look at his hands, noticing he was holding the injured one by the wrist.