[Solo] Rook's memories.

[Rook]

What: Closed Story thread
Where: Though space and time.
When: Day One
Why: For the craft of it.

Also, at this time Rook was a Monk wearing Monk starter gear.

No matter what she said, she couldn't even fool herself, the tone of her voice just rang untrue.
“Maybe we need to be in a certain place to log out? Like a special zone.”
Rook was alone, talking to herself in a ruined alley. The kind you'd normally only see from the back of a black cab but in this case after humanity had been extinct for a few decades.

The atmosphere in town was wrong. Some people still carried the jubilation of something so fresh and new, others had caught the dread.
There was no way out. The log out button did not work.

To Rook who had logged in the wrong character by accident it was especially vexing. When he'd made this costume it had been one of the more modest choices but now she felt especially vulnerable in it.
Even more than that, even his real life strength had been sapped... no that wasn't true, she was stronger than he was. It wasn't a loss of strength but co-ordination. His mind couldn't move her limbs naturally everything was wrong. Even standing was difficult.
Being a klutz was cute on screen but it kind of hurt in reality. Miraculously, her clothes cleaned themselves and the bruises went away... not too quickly but the fact that it happened at all in a noticeable way...

She wished she'd chosen a casting class and started with a staff. Even a walking stick would do. Anything so she wasn't stuck down this alley behind the apple stall.
Other people were the worst. She could feel their judging eyes, and when she wasn't in sight she could hear them losing their minds. Arguing with each other, calling for GM's. Some seemed content to play and role play. The strange combination and contrast was especially jarring.

“Uhm, excuse me, are you ok?” a child's voice intruded upon her mental spiral.
Rook looked up, the child flinched. Her face was a mess, tears she hadn't noticed falling had made her make up run.
She tried to clear up a little but no doubt only smeared it more with her hands.
“I'm ok.” Rook lied about as well as she stood. It was shaky at best and done with the support of a stone wall.

Bonk. A tennis ball struck her arm, she tired to catch it on impulse but ended up knocking it away. No, not a tennis ball, a vibrant green fruit, an apple. Her mouth watered, when had she last eaten.

Slowly, slowly she reached down and picked up the ingredient.
“These ones are tasty, you should eat it.” The child said from their window vantage.

The dirt did not bother as a garnish. The apple was tart and crisp, it crunched between her teeth as she remembered how to chew. She almost choked, she coughed but kept eating. The tart clear taste which refreshed her palette and cleared her mind. It was slightly strange though, it tasted salty.

Skill used:
Word Count: 500
Tagged:

[Rook]

Where: In a dark place.
When: Day Four hundred and Thirty One

The scroll, sat on the corner table near the door covered in dust next to a quill that had sagged from moisture decreasing it's durability. Illuminated a single burning candle in a stand of candle wax made by the candle before it on a base of the candle before that.

Beams of light made from broken panels in the roof and storm shutters painted the mould on the wall behind her in a slowly deepening red. Another day was ending, and she hadn't left the room yet.

Rook knew she needed money. She hadn't had a night's sleep since she started squatting in this ruin. Any day now a monster, or worse an Adventurer would bust in the door and buy the place out from under her. She was hungry, but couldn't afford the good food.

But how could she leave the room, they were everywhere. Human beings, ravenous terrible human beings. Smiles that turned to grimaces when she passed by. Gnashing teeth and drawn steel. Murderers and monsters all... just like her. Rook trembled and held herself, but then recoiled, her hands were wet and in the deepening darkness the moisture was blood. Blood, the life of another. It was all over her, her hands were wet with it.
“No no no, I didn't mean it. I didn't know.” Ignorance was her only defence, but it was no excuse. Monk is the class she'd chosen, to be her lever in this world, the way she had chosen. Violence.
A fist raised to challenge the heavens. A foot dropped to crack the earth. This class had saved her life by consuming the lives of others with her bare hands.
This violence had also damaged her soul.

When did it happen, when did the world lose it's final spark. Even when things were bad before she could cry and laugh, now there was just nothing. Even when she cried it didn't heal her. She didn't feel better. The tears were just another thing that came and went like the sun and the moon. Empty of feeling or warmth. The tears were flowing now and she didn't even realise.

When had it stopped being what will I do today and start being an endless string of monster stomping, alone. Violence like breathing, death her constant companion. The weight of it had made her burdens unbearable... and she'd found here, not this room, but this dark place. There had been a number of rooms since then but all in this place.

And there was no escaping it... no way out at all.

No, there was a way... a plan she'd devised. The scroll. It would only change things a little, but maybe that little change would be enough. But the scroll meant giving up the strength she'd made... starting again. It was a terrible risk, she was well above what normally attacked in this zone she wouldn't be able to be a squatter any more.
Proper rooms and food were so expensive she would have to be proactive.

What would she get for it? Maybe nothing. Maybe a change, maybe a way to start living again. A different path, a new lever with which to shift her world.

But there would be no turning back, she couldn't afford another. Even if she could, she knew she couldn't walk this path again. It would defeat her.
And even if she did choose the scroll, she would never have this strength again. That was the point. Take it and take the risk, leave it and choose a certain but unhappy future.

The choice seemed simple when you put it that way. She'd been considering it for some time now... how long? The scroll would wait, another day, another week, it's durability seemed to be unaffected. And then she realised, even as an immortal Adventurer, her own durability was close to it's limit.

The last rays of the sun falling were across her like cracks in dark thoughts. The green ribbon had slipped to her lap in her dark reverie.
Kindness, the kind that had saved a life, her own. Suddenly she felt so ashamed, the heat behind her eyes and in her heart returned.
No, she couldn't make it right any more, but neither could she let it end so wrong.

Now, it could only be now. While her anger gave her courage. Now was the time to hold the pen.

There was no tomorrow, she could not fix yesterday. Rook wrapped the ribbon around her palm and stood.
The protests, the fear and the memories. The little voices trying to tell her sit down again.
The candle flame she'd kept burning for nearly eight weeks now drew her on.

Her mind became white fire her thoughts burning to ash before they could find voice.

She only needed a step to be at the corner table, she grasped the quill and it warped in her fingers.
She unrolled the scroll a fuddled the ink bottle open... it was mostly dry. No, there was just enough...

She signed the scroll, and the strength drained out of her.

She became light.

It didn't hurt, but she knew she'd given something away.

In the process she'd collapsed to the floor, a few pieces of equipment strewn around. Her hands felt... weak? Like they couldn't grip any more.

Rook stood as an enchanter. She would let the people who could carry the burden of violence gracefully do just that.

The doubts flooded back, but did not overwhelm her... a little light, the last ember of that white fire stopped them from overwhelming her.

Rook bent down and intimately blew the candle out. She drew in the thin line of smoke that followed with a deep breath. It was a part of her now. The fire was inside.

She'd only taken a single step, but it was a first step.

The next step, who knew? A bath? A guild? A quest?

A change, and now was indeed the time.

HP:100%    MP:100%

Skill used:
Word Count: 1000
Tagged: