[PP-F05] <<The Traveller>> Surviving more than the Weather.

[Alinta 0]

The woman wasn't fond of this floor. She wore a loose fitted white shirt, and tight denim short-shorts. Rarely ever dressed quite appropriately for the occasion. Alinta preferred to look a certain way. That way was not like some cliche' game character. The woman may love to write about fantasy... but she did not enjoy living it. The woman sat cross legged beneath a large cloth canopy in the city of Fortaleza - the main settlement of the fifth floor. Every so often she'd shoot a glare at a passerby.

She had been trying to slowly...slowly explore the other cities, the least she could do. But Alinta hit a bit of a road bump. She was told by a passerby in Taft that she'd need the Survival Skill if she wanted to be safe against the elements. It didn't take long for her to find the details of the quest. It didn't seem too hard. She had to find some old man, who lingered by the gate to the desert, and take him to his hiding spot...wherever that was. She had played these sort of games before. Escort quests. The hardest part about them was having to slow yourself down for the terribly slow NPCs. 

Alinta --> Scar: Hey...I found this quest and I was wondering if you could help me with it? It's called <<The Traveller>> and it gives you a Survival Skill that helps you deal with a bunch of weather and terrain debuffs. I looked into it and it's just an escort quest so it should be pretty easy but those are kind of boring to do alone. So if you want to come you can.
Alinta --> Scar: You don't have to though.

A pause before she sent another.

Alinta --> Scar: If you do. I am waiting at a small cafe by the teleport gate in Fortaleza, I bought you a drink.
Alinta --> Scar: Not that I assumed you'd come, its hot so. I'll just drink it myself.

The woman had to close her messaging system, lest she became too overbearing...perhaps there was a reason she didn't really hear back from Oscar. He was a busy man, and her catching sight of him at the Blackbook event - lead the woman to believe that he had started to see another woman. That was fine. It wasn't like they had even dated or anything of the sort. He simply showed an interest in her.

 

Alinta instead; put her attention to the table in front of her, made of smooth sandstone, two drinks sitting on it. Each with a festive paper umbrella. Both bright blue in colour. Alinta picked up her own and took a long sip from it, tasting the sweet lemonade before pressing the glass to her forehead, enjoying the cool touch of the condensation upon the glasss.  "He probably won't come...." She muttered to herself. The woman was fully prepared to do this alone. She just...didn't want to.

After all, she had only met Scar once, and they...well. 

At the very least she had enjoyed his company during the event.

ALINTA OMBRE | HP: 560/560 | EN: 74/74 | DMG: 1 | LD:2 | True Tier 3

WC:511

Spoiler

 

"Name: ALINTA OMBRE
True Tier: 3
Level: 28
Paragon Level: 0
HP: 560/560
EN: 74/74

Stats:
Damage: 1
Loot Die: 2

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - 
Armor/Trinket: 
  - 
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - BLACK CROSS EARRING +2 LD

Combat Mastery:
  - 

Combat Shift:
  - 

Familiar Skill:
  - 

Custom Skill:
  - 

Skills:

Extra Skills:

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:

Mods:

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:
  - HEALTH POTION +5HP x3

Housing Buffs:

Guild Hall Buffs:

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:

Gathering Profession:
"           

 

                                                                                                                

@Scar

Edited 1 hour ago by Alinta

[Scar 0]

The message blinked onto Jack's interface while he was half-distracted, cycling through his quest log with idle disinterest.

Alinta -> Scar: Hey.. I foudn this quest and I was wondering if you could help me with it?

He read through the series of messages, escort quest, «The Traveller», survival skill reward. Straightforward. A bit dull. Escort missions were the MMO equivalent of watching paint dry, but when he reached the last message, he caught himself smirking.

Alinta -> Scar: I bought you a drink. Not that I assumed you'd come.

He could almost hear her voice in that. That mix of stubborn detachment and uncertain invitation made something in him stir. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, he was already on his way to the teleport gate before he could talk himself out of it.

Not long after, the shimmer of light faded, and he was standing on the fifth floor. The sun felt like a real solid block of heat against his body.

"Holy hell," he murmured, shielding his eyes.

The head of the midday sun showed off the whole of Fortaleza, street of sandstone, tents made of decorated cloth, and a crowd that went about their business with a leisurely kind of will under the blazing sun of the desert. It was beautiful in its own way, but Jack was thinking right off the bat that his clothes were all wrong. Black t-shirt, black shorts, and black shoes. Without a shadow of a doubt, it had appeared alright when he was leaving, but under this sun, the color might as well have been his doom. He was almost able to see the material soaking up the heat like a sponge.

"Perfect," he said sarcastically to himself. "Dress like a shadow, burn like one."

Still, he pressed on through the plaza, scanning for the café she mentioned. It wasn't long before he could see the wide canopy close to the teleport gate, shady place, sandstone table, and a delicate aroma of citrus carried by the wind. And there she was, with nobody but herself, sitting.

Even from a distance, he recognized her immediately. Alinta had that same calm, self-contained posture he remembered from the Blackbook event, though here it looked.. different. Less guarded. A little more human, maybe. She was focused on something in front of her, two drinks, both topped with small blue umbrellas that looked comically festive in the desert heat.

He stopped for a second, a smile coming to his lips. She hadn't seen him yet.

That made things more interesting.

Quietly he moved from one table to another until he was just behind her. Without a word, he reached out and tapped her shoulder once, light, casual, and stepped to the opposite side before she could look back. As her head turned in the wrong direction, he leaned in close enough to poke her cheek with one finger.

"Guess you didn't think I'd actually show up, huh?" he said, voice laced with amusement.

He straightened up, took the vacant chair next to her, and smiled. "Yeah, you weren't joking about the heat." He was pulling the collar of his black shirt with his land a little. "Wearing this was a terrible life choice."

The two drinks caught his eye, and he looked at her with a little bit of a surprise saying, "You really did get me one." Playfully he says, "Watch out, Alinta, if you keep doing considerate things like this, and I might start expecting them."

He dropped back in his seat, one arm draped over the chair. "So," he said after a moment, his eyes bright with interest, "Where's this old man we're supposed to escort? Please tell me he's not halfway across the desert."

* * *

Spoiler

Scar | HP: 140/140 | EN: 32/32 | DMG: 8 | MIT: 4

[equipments.]
scimitar. | [#000000] | TIER 1 RARE CURVED SWORD | ACC, BLEED (12)
[desc.]: A sleek, crescent-shaped weapon designed for precision and speed. Its sharp curve biting deep to draw swift, bleeding wounds from every strike.

[battle-ready inventory.]
starter healing potion. | [#000000] | TIERLESS POTION | HP RECOVERY
[desc.]: A small glass vial. When consumed, it restores 50 health points.

WC: 629

@Alinta

[Alinta 0]

"Huh?" She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned her head - seeing nothing the woman grumbled in frustration. As Alinta turned her facea again she felt a calloused finger press into the soft skin of her cheek. Alinta jumped in surprise, almost spilling her blue drink all over her white top. She would have, if she hadn't already drank half its contents. "Scar..." His name spoken with an Exasperated sigh as she watched the man shift to sit down.

"Guess you didn't think I'd actually show up, huh?" 

Alinta crossed her arms, lightly glossed lips pressing into a pout as she gave a visible and audible huff. "Who cares if you did?" she asked. "It's not like this is my first rodeo. I've spent thousands of hours playing these sort of games before." And she had, it was all she really did aside from her modelling gig. "I just..." A shift of her eyes to the teleport gate, and away from him. "Didn't expect to be able to actually die in one." Something she was reminded of daily back in the Town of Beginnings. Her voice filled with a sort of hesitation. Suddenly unsure if she wanted to do this quest. Alinta had to remind herself she had someone with her, that there wasn't anything unusual about the quest. Alinta would loosen her arms and allow herself to lean forward on the table, shifting her drink to the side so she could address her companion properly, and with a smile.

"You good there?" She'd ask with a tilt of her head. "I should have warned you to bring something..." Her eyes would dance up and down his body. "A little more airy." Alinta placed her chin in the palm of one hand and picked up her drink with the other, taking an idle sip as she watched him. He was easy on the eyes, and despite how he dressed - he always managed to smell like fresh linen. "Of course...I don't mind watching your sweat." She'd add. She'd continue their tit for tat that they had the night of the ball - granted there was less fire behind her words. This time, it was more of a playful banter. Alinta didn't want to get him too riled up, nor her too flustered. She now knew he'd match her, then take it several steps further. 

And...she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep up, and keep a level head.

"Ah...T-The drink." She stammered as she gestured toward it, catching her thoughts before they had time to seed themselves into her psyche. "Yes!" She'd pick up his glass and place it against his head, letting the droplets of condensation drop down his head. "See. It's good for two things." 

"Watch out, Alinta, if you keep doing considerate things like this, and I might start expecting them."

"O-oh?!" Alinta felt embarrassed at that, she'd set the glass back down in front of him and lower herself back to her own seat, shifting her gaze away as she picked up her own, playing around with the little umbrella. "So...right. Right the quest...we gotta... find and escort an old man named Z-Zamek to some hidden location. He's usually wandering around the front gate to the city. North side...but...before that..." She'd play around with the umbrella a little more. "I....I don't - I mean....I haven't invested my skills in anything yet." She felt a little embarrassed to admit it.

"So...do ya think I should do that first?" She turned to him. "What build are you going for?"

This....This was safe talk, nerd talk. Her talk. She could handle this. Far, far more than sultry whispers and the scent of sweat and lavender.

 

WC: 614

[Scar 0]

His head was actually cooled down by the glass and he could not help but pull a short laugh through his throat. The droplets which were flowing down his neck trailed through the desert heat for just a second before they disappeared into the dark fabric of his shirt. "Guess I had that coming." he said, still chuckling as she set the glass down. He took the glass and took a sip, letting the sweetness wash away the dryness from his mouth since the time of their arrival, to spread in his mouth.

The flavor was even lighter than he had expected, fresh, citrusy, and very slightly sour. He looked at the blue liquid, swirling it once and an intonation of satisfaction escaped from his lips. "You know," he said, tapping the rim with a finger, "I didn't even know blue lemonade was a thing. You've officially expanded my world, Alinta."

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling through a grin. The sun pressed down through the edges of the canopy, and the heat seemed to soak straight through his clothes. Black shirt, black shorts, black shoes, he really hadn't thought this through. The outfit had seemed practical this morning: neutral, clean, simple. But out here, under Aincrad's desert sun, it just felt like he'd wrapped himself in a portable oven. The sweat that formed at his neck and along his forearms wasn't subtle either. Still, pride was a stubborn thing. He wasn't about to complain, especially not when Alinta already seemed amused by his suffering.

Her voice pulled his attention back. While talking about builds, she hesitated a little in choosing her words and not very sure, which is a very different behavior for a person who normally is very confident. Jack just watched for a moment, chin propped on his knuckles, eye flicking between her face and the drink she was nervously toying with. It was strange. After the sharp, playful tension between them at the ball, he hadn't expected to see this side of her, hesitant, almost shy. And for a reason he couldn't quite place, he found it.. grounding.

"Most players here go straight for combat," he said, his tone even. "You know the type, big swords, big egos. I know that there are some who think damage is all that matters." He took another sip, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "But this game.. this reality doesn't work like other MMOs. No classes, no skill trees. It feels like the more you do something, the better you become. Every hit, every step, every craft."

He moved a little closer, his elbows on the table. "So, if fighting's not really your thing, there's plenty of other routes. Gatheringm crafting, cooking. Hell, even fishing. They all matter. The people who focus on that stuff? They're the ones who actually keep everyone else alive longer."

He looked at her more deeply and spoke gently, "You said you've played games like this before. What kind of role did you usually take? Tanking? DPS? Support?" He paused, smirking faintly. "Let me guess, something balanced, but flashy. You look like the type who'd want to handle everything yourself."

He moved backward, the smile changing to a softer one. "Me? I like being up close. Fast. Clean hits, no wasted motion. Once I get the quest for it, I'm picking up the Katana skill. Timing's everything with it, you mess up once, you pay for it. But when you nail it, it feels like control. Like all the chaos finally makes sense."

He rubbed at the back of his neck, the sunlight catching the faint sheen of sweat along his arm. "Don't rush figuring out your set up. You'll get the feel for what you want."

Jack's voice was a little softer, the corners of his mouth lifting. "If I were you, I'd mix something practical with something that lets you hit back when things go bad. It would give you power. Otherwise, you'll end up waiting for someone else to save you, but I wouldn't mind saving you."

He took one last sip, watching the shimmer of heat outside the canopy, then looked back to her with a quiet grin. "Besides," he added, playful again, "Someone's gotta keep up with me out there."

The teasing glint lingered for a moment before he glanced toward the street again. A streetlight gust lifted the edge of his shirt and with is, came a faint scent of dust and citrus. "Next time," he said dryly, "I'm bringing something lighter. Black and desert don't mix."

* * *

WC: 762

OOC: did you mean "Surviving" and not "Survivng"

[Alinta 0]

Scar wasn't like her. He was consistent. Stable. Secure. Far more grounded than her constant flittering between confidence and apprehension. 

"If you're that uncomfortable, I don't mind you changing." A pause. "I mean waiting for you to change, into something more appropriate. But - after this quest...apparently we won't feel the heat as much." She glanced down at her own attire, far more suited for a stroll down the boardwalk by the beach, not a trip to the desert. Still. Far cry better than what he was wearing. "Respectfully Scar..." She'd say picking up her glass and finishing it off, gulping down the bubbles and pressing the now empty glass against her forehead. "You look like you might struggle." Hell, she was struggling and Alinta was far more appropriately dressed.

Switching topics had been a good idea. It gave the flippant woman enough time to calm down. Remove herself away from that...tension that kept building up between the two. Something about two adults who clearly craved some sort of attention...may not be a good mix. The woman smiled at his compliment, how she had expanded his world. "You trying to flatter me? You know I am a model. You'll have to do better than that." Although, she secretly hoped he wouldn't. It was easy to read compliments online, turns out - its much harder to receive them in person.

Alinta fished one of the ice cubes out of her drink with her straw and pushed herself out of her chair. Listening to him talk about other various games. "Hmm...depends on the game. I used to like the brawler class- something very cathartic about whaling on your enemies...before that I'd adore magic classes, but that got complicated. And..." A tilt of her head as she shifted behind Scar. "There is no magic here."

His discomfort did not go unnoticed by the woman, so Alinta carefully placed the ice cube at the nape of his neck. Letting it melt down and trickle beneath his shirt. She didn't think much of the action, beyond that it must be nice, a small reprieve from the sweltering heat. Moving it up and down watching the trail of moisture. "You're right...I liked doing things on my own. I'm used to it. Even now I'm used to -" A pause. Realization, that she didn't really have any connections here. She could attempt to say Oscar was one, but he was more akin to a passing thought. Despite her efforts.

What would make Scar any different?

"I'm used to being alone."

And with that she'd drop whatever was left of the cube straight down the back of his shirt. Alinta shifted back in front of him, hefting herself up to sit on the table, facing him. She winced as the hot sandstone hit her bare thighs. Little too warm. "Here...I had planned to do the same." Alinta caught his gaze with a smile. "The Katana skill...what can I say? I am enamored with the thought of a lone ronin whisking me away- but with things being so....deadly...I don't know." She gave a heavy sigh.  "Maybe something I can do from a distance...whip? Light armour? Something that allows me to just slip away....I haven't looked too closely at some of the skill combinations but I think that'd work. If I ever get my ass into gear."

-but I wouldn't mind saving you."

 

There was something about how he had said that, and how he made the lighthearted joke of wanting someone to keep up with him. "Careful." Alinta chided. "You'll make me think you want to hang out with me."

WC: 598

[Scar 0]

The chill that went down his spine, was too quick to count. Jack was unsure for a moment, tightening his muscles, while directly after, a quick hiss comes out of his breath as the melting ice quietly moves down his chest. "You-" He bit back a laugh, as his shoulders trembling he bends his head lower, trying to intercept the dripping which he thought by the look of it would descend further. "You're evil, you know that?"

Still sitting in his armchair, he brought his hand over the back of his neck, as if the cold which had caught him there, could be drive away with a touch. The desert heat rushed back just as quickly, but somehow it didn't feel quite as heavy anymore. Maybe because she was laughing. Maybe it was the fact of the moment, when the tension between them seemed to break, not disappear, just soften to a level from which it was still possible to breathe.

Her commend about him struggling earned a quiet snort. "I'll be fine," he said, leaning back with mock confidence. "The heat back home was worse than this. Or at least felt worse.. You don't earn the Survival Skill by sitting in the shade, right?" With a slight smile he looked at her, which at least partially hid the perspiration that was shining on his jaw. "Besides, if I pass out, you can drag me to the quest NPC. Builds character."

Upon the model comment, Jack tilted his head a little, acting as if he was examining her and deciding the quality of a photo shoot. "A model, huh? Yeah.. that tracks." His voice was full of humor but behind the smile he was sincere. "You'd probably take Miss Universe if you applied. Now if I want to be seen with you in public, I definitely have to step up my game."

The phrases were airy, but still, they lingered longer than he expected.

The empty glass was put down by him and his arms were loosely folded on the table as he listened to her talking about her previous play-styles, the brawler classes, the catharsis of beating down enemies. He found himself picturing it, somehow fitting with the spark she carried in every word. Then she mentioned the absence of magic, and her tone shifted, her confidence dipping into something quieter.

"I get that," he said softly. "Used to doing things on your own. It's.. easy to stay in that space once you've been there long enough." His gaze met hers, steady but warm. "But you're not alone anymore. Not unless you choose to be."

He let the words hang there, not pushing, just letting them exist between them like the shade they sat under. Then, wait a faint grin that tugged one corner of his mouth higher, he added, "After that night at the Blackbook event? I am quite certain that I wouldn't want to leave you again." The teasing tone was there, very obvious, however, something in his eyes was letting the fact that it wasn't only a joke be known to her.

When she ordered him to be careful and said that he would make her think that he wanted to hang out with her, Jack was not able to hold back a laugh. "Think?" he echoed. "Alinta, if you ever want to hang out, I'll drop whatever I'm doing and be there before you finish typing the message."

His softening of his expression was marked by a pause. "I suppose it's just that I like your company."

The wind shifted, carrying a brief gust of warmth that fluttered the edges of her hair. Jack looked past her for a moment, toward the streets of Fortaleza, the sandstone glowing gold under the light, the chatter of players drifting through the plaza. For all the dangers this world carried, it still had moments like this. Still felt alive.

He looked back to her, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his hands. "So, Miss Universe," he said, grin returning, "You decide what kind of fighter you want to be yet? Because if you're going with that whip idea, I might have to start watching here I stand."

He leaned forward just a touch, voice lowering into that familiar teasing drawl. "Can't have you aiming too close, or I might start thinking you're flirting."

He let the moment linger just long enough before the smirk eased into something more genuine, quiet, but real. "Whatever you pick, though," he said, "I'll back you up. That's what partners do."

He wasn't sure when the word partner had slipped out, but he didn't take it back.

* * *

WC: 778

[Alinta 0]

Post Action: Roleplay speaking to <<Zamek>>.

"Evil?" Alinta would say innocently, and it was genuine. She had thought the ice would help alleviate the heat, not cause such a visceral reaction. "If I recall...." A finger pressed to her lips as she tapped them once, then twice. Swinging bare legs back and forth, allowing strapped sandals to hang loosely off her feet. "You were the one wearing the sinners mask." A hand splayed across her chest. "And I, naught but the innocent saint, tangled in a spiders web."  She'd end her grand statement with a light laugh, seeing him relax back in his chair put her at ease.

"Oh? Was it hot where you came from?" She'd ask. "I was West Coast....it got hot sometimes but..." She'd shield her eyes with one hand as she glanced up at the filtered light through the cloth canopy above. "Not like this." It was close, but there was an almost suffocating feel to the weather on this floor.  He made a comment about how they weren't going to get the skill just sitting around. He was right...the quicker they got the skill, the quicker they'd be able to handle this god forsaken heat. "Oh, you're right~" She'd slide herself off the sandstone table, skin catching on its surface.  Earghh...

"I'm not particularly in the mood to be dragging anyone behind me." She'd pull out a cloth and lean forward, full figure looming over him as she wiped the sweat from his brow. "But since you're oh so used to it. I don't think It'll resort to that." She'd let the cloth drop in his lap as she straightened, then stretched - popping a few muscles in her upper back. "Alternate Model." She'd say, not missing a beat. "I'm too short and wide for Miss Universe. Hell...their standards...." Alinta would lower her hands with a swing, her gaze landing on him. "I'd rather eat a good meal. Nothing against them, but - I'm happy in my own little lane." And it was true, Alinta wasn't large by any means, but the wild standards of such modeling on that scale was insane. She couldn't even imagine trying anything in Milan. No....Alinta was perfectly content with what she had.

Had. 
Would she ever be able to return to that?

"I'm sure once showered and cleaned up you'd do just fine." A press of her finger into his cheek, tit for tat. Full circle. "You have good bone structure, and a near symmetrical face." Her arms linked up under his and pulled him up and out of his seat. They had lounged around long enough.

 "But you're not alone anymore. Not unless you choose to be."

Alinta didn't acknowledge the words, at least not verbally. She had heard that promise a few times over in this digital hellscape, and each and every time they were nothing more than false platitudes. Still, a small squeeze of his arm signaled there was a hope there. That he wouldn't grow tired of her messages, that he'd offer to see her again after today. Alinta enjoyed his company, his banter. Hell - even his scent. When he wasn't dripping with sweat.

"Don't be so quick to promise things you can't keep." Alinta chided with a tight smile as he said he'd not want to leave her again. "Such nights, are fleeting. Emotions high. Roiling on the energy of a thumping bass that vibrates your very being....its entirely different to now. I get that." Her smile grew, another squeeze of his arm as she continued to lead him to their first destination. "I wouldn't fault you for it, Scar. We're all human after all."

"Alinta, if you ever want to hang out, I'll drop whatever I'm doing and be there before you finish typing the message."

                                           "I suppose it's just that I like your company."

The woman paused at this. "Please stop." Her arms would slip away from his. He sounded so earnest, the woman almost believed him. "If you don't. I'd believe you." Another moment where her confident veneer cracked, pieces of the mask crumbling away to reveal a scared and hurt woman beneath a cunning and cool facade. 

Who needed to dwell on things like flirting, partners, and whips....the two barely knew each other.

"Are you an adventurer?" Alinta paused, turnoing to see a man with a long, white beard and a slight hunch to his back.  This must be the quest guy she was told about. He was wrapped in a heavy wool cloak. Absolute insanity considering the weather. He still shook like a leaf. Alinta was thankful for the distraction. It allowed her a moment to collect herself. She had to do that a lot lately. 

A nudge of Scars shoulder. "I think this is the guy." She'd point to the name floating above the old mans head <<Zamek>>

"I am terribly sorry to bother you, but I need help. I-I have a treasure chest of sorts, buried in the desert, at the base of some uniquely shaped rocks. The contents are incredibly important to me, but I am too ill to make the journey alone. Would you escort me there? Though I cannot offer you much col.  But, should you offer your assistance, I would be eternally grateful."

 A window popped up in front of both Alinta and Scar.

A quest.... the first one she had sought out to do on her own, well...almost on her own. A sideward glance to Scar. Renewed facade. Mask taped back together again. "Sure you can handle this?" A sweet smile, a flutter of lashes as she hit accept; then - another flick as she sent her companion a party invite.

As Alinta accepted the invite Zamek coughed loudly, almost collapsing to the floor as he reached a shaky and wrinkled hand into the folds of his woolen cloak. From within it he offers both Alinta and Scar a pair of goggles each. "A-A sandstorm is comin'...please...I'll be eternally grateful..."

Alinta grabbed her own, and adjusted it so it'd sit over her head. "You know, I wasn't ever sure of the whole steampunk aesthetic." She said as she turned to Scar, offering him a cheeky tongue out. "What do ya think? Could I get away with it, Partner?"

WC; 1,037

@Scar

Edited 1 hour ago by Alinta

[Scar 0]

The air seemed to change to a bite right after they took their first step from the shadow of the outpost. What had been thick and hot air was now very dry and it felt as if the sun's rays had been focused right on the spot. Heat was shimmering over the sands like some elusive image of the desert was being formed from the melting of the gold. It looked as if each and every one of the sands grains was alive, running, rolling, hissing in between their boots, where the first edge of the storm could already be seen.

Jack, Scar, as she called him, squinted toward the open desert. "Guess we're really doing this," he muttered, tightening the strap of his black goggles over his eyes. The world dimmed behind the smoky lenses, shadows sharpening against the violent brightness. The moment the seal clicked into place, the faint howl of the approaching wind was muffled into a deep, restless murmur.

He glanced down at his outfit, black shirt, black shorts, black shoes.

A practical mistake.

A stupid one.

It never even crossed his mind when he was setting up his log, that in the virtual world the sun's heat would feel so palpable. The simulated atmosphere felt as if it were against his skin with a heavy weight, as it was also soaking into the fabric until it became tight on him. His shirt already stuck to his back, his hair damp from sweat.

"Well," he said with a dry chuckle, "I'm sure this was a brilliant choice."

Mostly, it was a comment to himself but he was looking at Alinta out of the corner of his eye. She looked much more suited for the environment, even if she'd complained earlier. Her confidence had returned; her mask pieced back together after that momentary crack from before. But something about it still lingered in his mind.

"Don't be so quick to promise things you can't keep.", she said.

He hadn't meant the promise as hollow. He rarely said things he didn't mean. But there was something about this world, its cruel parody of reality, that made everyone hold their words like fragile glass.

The wind rose, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Stay close," he said, lifting his voice over the growing roar. "Visibility's going to drop fast."

Sand spun around their boots now, swirling in tight spirals. An orange wall moved across the horizon as the sandstorm approached them like a living barrier. The old man, Zamek, was already teetering on his way, his silhouette bent and almost absorbed by the golden mist. Jack clamped his mouth shut and followed him, urging his instincts to come to his aid.

His body even in a game, would do the same as it always did outside of the game in dangerous situations: focus sharpened, speed controlled, all senses activated. He took a quick glance at the map to verify their route, a bright line that was visible one moment and the next the storm seemed to be disturbing the whole thing.

The world became noise and color.

Wind screamed through the dunes, dragging sand into the air like smoke. His arm brushed Alinta's as he reached forward, steadying her when the gusts pushed too hard. The goggles were good for keeping the worst of the sand out of his eyes but there was still the sting in the parts that were not covered. He was able to hear it as it settled in his hair, on his clothes, and all over his skin in an unnoticeable way and yet it was there for certain.

"I think Zamek owes us more than 'eternal gratitude," he said through a faint grin. "A drink would be a good start."

A flicker of humor helped ground him. That was something Jack, no, Scar, relied on when everything felt overwhelming. A small flame of levity against the chaos.

He showed her the direction with his eyes as they kept moving. "You ever think about how weird it is? All of this," he gestured vaguely toward the storming horizon, "Was coded. Someone sat at a desk and decided to make this real enough for us to feel it. To choke on it."

The wind swallowed his words halfway, but he continued anyway.

"I used to love the desert. Spent a few years somewhere a lot like this. Hotter, though. The kind of heat that bleaches bones. Makes you feel like you're walking inside an oven. I didn't mind it back then."

A pause.

"Guess some things change."

His voice carried a note of nostalgia buried beneath the usual steadiness. He didn't elaborate, didn't explain where or why. That part wasn't important, not yet.

Together they fought against the elements, a few feet of vision being all they had to their disposal. Through the dust the sun was nothing more than a pale white circle. Each step crunched against shifting ground. Zamek's shape wavered ahead like a mirage, vanishing and reappearing in rhythmic flashes.

He repeated his request to the woman, loudly this time, "Stay with me."

If she replied, he couldn't hear her. The world was nothing but wind and the dull, constant ping of sand against his goggles.

The storm lasted for somewhat a few minutes.

The storm lightened, the air thinned. The dunes were reshaped and new ones appeared, they looked like they had been rewritten while they hadn't been watching.

Jack breathed out, scratching his head. When he took off his goggles, he saw that his skin was slightly indented where the frame had touched it. "Well," he said, getting rid of the sand from his sleeves by rubbing them together, "Guess we survived our first sandstorm."

Turning with a speck of humor in his eyes, he said to her, "I'd say the goggles did great. Pure craftsmanship. I don't know if they really help us with the sandstorm. Not that I saw any buffs when I looked them over."

Despite the exhaustion, he was smiling. Genuine this time. There was something about surviving a storm together, even a digital one, that created a fragile thread of connection. Shared experience. Shared discomfort.

As the old man hobbled forward again, muttering about his treasure, Jack's gaze lingered briefly on Alinta. His earlier words echoed again, You're not alone anymore. Not unless you choose to be.

He wondered if what he had said struck a chord with her, but he knew for certain that he wasn't going to keep false promises. Especially to Alinta.

He cleared his throat, straightening. "Alright. We keep moving. You keep the map open, I'll make sure nothing blindsides us."

He fell into step beside her again, sand crunching underfoot. The air was still thick with heat, but the worst had passed. They were two silhouettes moving across an endless gold horizon, their shadows long and then beneath the unforgiving sun.

"You know," he said after a quiet moment, his tone playful again, "If this old man's treasure turns out to be something ridiculous like a rusty sword, I'm blaming you."

He glanced over, the faintest smirk tugging his mouth. "Partner."

* * *

Spoiler

a storms a brewin'

ID: 255943 | CD: 11 | Success!

WC: 1,191

Edited 16 minutes ago by Scar

[Alinta 0]

PH