>>3311365
>>Yes.

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Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=nothing+short+of+a+miracle
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ConfettoQM

Mechanics: https://pastebin.com/aaba22s6
Characters: https://pastebin.com/yCEXMZNz

OP2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bbCvjLMxHrI

I haven't updated either pastebins and I'm tired. Clearly it's time to recline.

>>3311365

Yes. I think.

>>3311379
>>3311388
Yes

Writing

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“Of course,” you reply, “There’s nothing wrong with me. Why?”

“...You look out of it,” Lavender notes. You are not in an animasphere. Not anymore. Instead, you’re with lavender as she spends her break with you at a cafe.

You shake your head, “Sorry, my head’s kind of all over the place.” You go and rub your eyes.

She leans in. “I think you should rest for a while. Have you been forcing yourself to attend classes?”

Sighing, you reply, “I rested long enough. I can’t lie in bed forever. And plus, if I just write everything down, there isn’t any problem at all.”

Frowning, Lavender asks, “Do you remember what happened in the past hour?”

“I, uh,” you stammer, “Flew here on my besom to tell you something?”

“Very vague, Stella,” she replies, taking a sip of her tea.

“I remember!” you retort, “I’m going to be gone for a while. There’s a field trip coming up and apparently it’ll do me good to get some fresh air. Also, they’re fumigating the forest, so they don’t really want us near it or even the castle.”

“Fumigating? Why?” she asks.

“I may or may not have something to do with it,” you reply. “Anyways, the wildlife should grow back quickly anyways. It’s just to cull the population a little.”

[1/2]

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>>3311521

“In any case,” Lavender says, “I’m going on a field trip too! First time I get to leave the island, so I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, really? Where are you going? Maybe we’re headed to the same place,” you say, entertaining the thought.

“Aegra. We got a request for a shipment for a load of Splitter extract. Apparently, there’s something terrorizing the lands there.”

“Is that so? How dangerous,” you vocalize your thoughts, “Well, I’m headed to Inops. Some kind of community service of some sorts to help with a migration of... something.”

She quietly laughs, “Must be tiring. Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun?” you reply.

Lavender, suddenly turning around, checks the time on a clock tower from afar. “Shoot, I should really get back. Take care of yourself, Stella.”

You should find someone to bother.
>Ask Lavender if you can help out.
>Ember.
>Lilac.
>Rye.
>You don’t mind spending some time alone. (Skip ahead)
>Write-in.

>>3311622
>Rye.

>>3311622
>Invest in charms that don't get knocked off from impact.

>>3311622
>>Write-in.
Go look for that ring. We know where it is, let's give it back
no more weeding for us!

>>3311622
>>Lilac.

>>3311622
>Plume

Oh wow, we're all over the place. The QM is going to have to roll a dice to decide

>>3311625
Rye

>>3311626
>>3311630
Time with yourself

>>3311637
Lilac

>>3311656
Plume

Writing

>>3311667
It just so happens that two of them coincide.

>>3311622
>Ember

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“You too, Lavender,” you reply.

You sit there for a couple of weeks before you get up. Or maybe it was only a few minutes. You can’t really tell these days. Before you know it, you’re at the Instrument shop that Rye showed you once. On your time off, you’ve been paying it visits, purchasing out of guilt every once in a while.

Entering, you glance over what’s new. Some were sold, now leaving behind a gap in the shelf or stands, most of them being replaced by new and different products. You like it here. Though the alchemy shop Lavender works at has a nice atmosphere, nothing reminds you of home better than here.

“Well look who it is,” the storeowner calls out upon seeing you, “My favorite customer.” You point to yourself and tilt your head. “Yes, you! Who else?” she replies.

You give her a smile. Is that right? “I see you’re well,” you point out.

“Very. What will it be today? Say, if you got a bit of time, would you mind taking a look at something I brought over?” she asks of you. How odd, you think, that she would request something from a stranger. Wait. No. It comes to you. That’s right. You’ve been helping out here and there without any payment in exchange, and she’s been forcing freebies onto you as payment. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

You blink. “Yeah, sorry. Just a little dizzy.” You glance at her hand. The ring is gone. It has been for a while. A couple of years, you believe.

Aurora never brought it up again afterwards, so you simply thought that she accepted that it was gone forever. Or perhaps, if your imagination was wild enough, she actually found it and placed it somewhere for safekeeping.

What did you come here for?
>Another safety trinket.
>You don’t mind helping her out.
>Inquire about the ring.
>Ask if she has something new and interesting.
>Write-in.

>>3311769
>>You don’t mind helping her out.
>>Inquire about the ring.

>>3311769
>Another safety trinket.

>Inquire about the ring.

>>3311832
>>3311892
Ring

Writing

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“Sorry, maybe another time. Bit of a strange question, but did you lose your ring?” you ask.

“Hm?” she raises the hand you were staring at. “Oh, yeah. A street urchin pulled it off me a while ago. That’s what I get for agreeing to play a card game with her. I didn’t really mind. It did fall out of the sky a little while ago. Dropped right on head. Figured if it came to me that easily, it’d disappear too. Why do you ask? Wait, did you see it?!”

You reply, “I think someone else is searching for that exact ring. Maybe I’m just overcomplicating things.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t worry about it. Was it all that you came here for?”

Nodding, you answer her and wave her a goodbye. As you leave, you sigh. You’ve lost the only lead you have. You doubt you’re going to find it at all. Well, it’s not to say it’s impossible. You could, in fact, use the spectra Miracle and check everything in the city and hope the thief hasn’t left, but you don’t even know what the ring even tastes like. You’ll keep an eye out, you suppose, but you doubt anything will come out of it.

Accepting things for what they are, you stroll down the streets, heading to nowhere in particular. You’re losing it, but that’s okay.

You are yourself, you silently recite, and that is all that matters.

[1/2]

>>3312019
WORRY

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>>3312019

https://files.catbox.moe/cfhdhg.mp3

At night—you’re not sure which night exactly—you line up to the board the train. Maybe you should’ve said something to Lavender, but you’ve forgotten. You’ve also forgotten what you’ve forgotten, so it all works out.

“Wow,” you say, “We get to ride the fancy one?”

Plume scoffs. “Obviously. Why would we not? I can’t imagine falling asleep in a seat that can’t even recline, much less one where there’s not enough room for you to stretch your legs.”

Rye taps your shoulder. “Did you forget anything?”

You open your bag. And then you look at what you’re holding. Your hand runs through the hole in the handle of your besom. Nothing. It wasn’t like you could get it back, but you’ve long accepted it. You can remember now, anyways. A little bit. “Besom, wand, clothes, bag, quill, notepad, me,” you list, “All the essentials.”

“Just checking,” she softly replies.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you want to tell her, but the words don’t escape.

You step on. You walk down the cars until you get to your cabin, admiring the space along the way. As you open the door, you admire how there’s a bed and even enough space left over to do things. You’re not sure what, but things nonetheless. You step in and stand there for an eternity.

Someone finally passes by your door. Ember raises a deck of cards into the air, “Hey, who wants to play some Siege?”

She heads to the lounge as Lilac follows. “W-wait, be careful with those...”

A handful of other students pass by too, along with the other passengers. When you poke your head out, you see Aurora apologizing for the noise to someone who was sleeping. Ah, she was saying some kind of speech before this, but you kind of missed it.

How did you get here again?
>Check out the lounge.
>Get something to eat.
>Sleep.
>Find someone. (Who?)
>Write-in.

>>3312118
Stella is Not Okay. Clearly the best way to fix this is to do even MORE dangerous things.

>Dream

>>3312118
>Join that Siege game. Our menace days shall continue.

I like how she listed herself.

>>3312189
Sleep and dream

>>3312194
Siege

Next vote breaks tie or I roll in 5

>>3312194
supporting

>>3312243
Writing

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You wonder.

Not about anything in particular, you just sat there contemplating about things. Maybe you should call it a day. Sitting down on your bed, you grab your pillow and give it a squeeze.

“Stella,” Macaron says, popping her head in through the doorway. “I heard you were good at Siege. How about a game?”

A small smile breaks on your face. “Sure.” Throwing the pillow back, you get up and follow her.

Passing by others who have already settled in, you glance and check who’s here. You spot Wolf, and hurry up before she sees you looking.

A handful of tables decorate the lounge, separated from those by a bar. Ember and a handful of others have already gathered around a table, making a ruckus. There’s groaning as Ember loses terribly and gets up. She announces half in jest, “Ah, screw it, this game wasn’t fun anyways!”

There’s a bit of laughter and suppressed giggles as you take an empty table. Macaron takes out her own deck and lays out the cards, the board being the container unfolding itself. Sitting there, you happily soak in nostalgic feelings.

“Hey, have you heard?” Macaron asks. “There’s a secret Siege tournament that takes place every year, and only the best are invited!”

“Really?” you ask.

“Rumor goes if you’re good enough, they’ll pop in and slip an invitation into your belongings when you don’t notice!” she tells you, “And to even get recognize, you’ll need to beat a few of the top five players!”

You position your cards as you reply, “How would you know if you’re fighting one of them?”

“You don’t! They come to you!” she replies.

“That’s so complicated...” you murmur, “Are you ready?”

“Ready!” she replies.

Your cards and hers flip over, and you begin to position your units instantly. Muscle memory and reflex guides you.

You’ve already decided on a strategy.
>Something strange and flashy.
>Something quiet and cold.
>Something aggressive and wild.

>>3312361
>Something aggressive and wild.

Making the best of our situation whoooo!

>>3312361
Ah man, poor Stella. This is pretty much the kind of content I was hoping to see at some point or another, ehehe, but still oof.
>Something quiet and cold.
Seems to me that this best matches her weird dissociated state.

>>3312361
>Something aggressive and wild

>>3312361
>Something aggressive and wild.

>>3312361
>>Something strange and flashy.

>>3312390
>>3312427
>>3312432
Aggressive

>>3312420
Quiet

>>3312476
Strange

Writing

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The one you’re most comfortable with. The one that requires the least effort.

One of your skills has improved since the last time you used it.
>(Prismatic Burst) Expend 2 Miracles and select a target within 28 Lengths. Blast them and deal 3 instances of [Shock]. If they target you with a skill this turn, apply an additional 2 instances. You can further expend Miracles, increasing the number of [Shock] instances by 2 for every 2 additional Miracles.

Cards shift and evolve, sliding into places with barely any thought. Through sheer compulsion and reflex alone, your will rushes through the thin Instruments in an instant.

She tests your concentration, and you take the chance to break her formation. Her bandit devolves into a beast, splitting her defense wide open. You charge in, a brutal attack assisted by a flanking strike.

Your fusilier angles itself perfectly at the Crown, forcing her to move it back instead of dropping down a new card she ripped from the wreckage of your spearhead.

You ask, “So what’s the tournament award? A lifetime supply of cards?” You devolve your own dragoon so it can sidestep to intercept an attack. “It can’t be that good of a prize, can it?”

She hesitates to answer, too busy focusing on repositioning her own cards. She throws down a beast, far away from her Crown. Its position is clearly so it can deflect your next fusilier snipe. “I heard last years was an arm.”

“A what?” you say. You doubt what you heard for a second, seriously reconsidering the state of your ears.

“I heard they rework things from the old world, y’know, dig them out of Vetus,” she answers. Your attack glances off her defenses, whittling both your forces and hers. “Apparently this one transform into different shapes.”

“Why would anyone want that?” you ask. She doesn’t reply because she’s too busy trying to fend off your constant barrage. You’ve moved your Crown ahead into the center of the battlefield, taking advantage of the reduced space to send reclaimed beast after beast after hers.

“Y-you never know—“ she replies, just as you slip past her defense and win. She slumps back. “What the heck? That wasn’t even fair.

You stop. “S...sorry.”

“Maybe Ember was right,” Macaron muses.

Someone else interrupts, “What are you apologizing for?!” When you check to see who’s been watching, you find Wolf very, very excited. “That game got my blood pumping. I’m digging your style, Stella,” she says, giving you a half-snarl half-grin. “Play a round with me!” she demands. Some eyes are drawn away, though most turn back.

You accidentally drew her attention.
>”Sorry, it’s late. I think I’ll call it quits.”
>”One round.”
>”How have you been?”
>”My... style?”
>”Sure. I didn’t know you played cards.”
>”Go easy on me.”
>Keep quiet.
>Write-in.

>>3312580
>”Sure. I didn’t know you played cards.”
Why not?

>>3312580
Seems like something Stella can find some happiness in despite her state, so sure
>”Sure. I didn’t know you played cards.”

>>3312580
>”Sure. I didn’t know you played cards.”
hoku hoku

>>3312615
>>3312623
>>3312662
Friends?

Writing

>>3312702
So, um, Wolf is a competitive gal who has a stereotypical shounen manga character like tendency of being friends with those who fight against her?
Okay then. I guess we can be friends.

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“Sure. I didn’t know you played cards,” you say. For some reason, you find her smile infectious. You’re looking forward to this, in a way. A scuffle on terms you’re familiar with.

Macaron pulls her chair out of the way as Wolf grabs a chair beside her. She repositions the board as you give her cards. While you set it up, she says, “I love this game. You can tell so much about a person by how they play. You can’t lie through your cards forever.”

She’s using more words than she ever has! You’re not sure how to feel about that, actually. You answer, “I like to keep it varied, so don’t be disappointed.”

“Just don’t try a postmodern defense and I won’t complain,” Wolf replies.

Your cards move into battle and in an instant, it’s settled. It was a very, very long instant, you presume, seeing as how games can’t end in an instant, but it was an instant nonetheless. Trying to grasp what happened, you scratch your head. “Looks like I won.”

“Wow!” Macaron exclaims, “That was so intense.”

Wolf, her elbows on the table, ruffles her hair. “What was that?! I should’ve seen that coming. My wizened was out of place...” she mumbles, going over the game. “Stella, let’s review our game!”

You’re taken aback. She is astonishingly serious about this. “I didn’t realize you were a pro,” you say.

“I’m not,” she replies, “But it pisses me off not knowing where I messed up. Don’t you agree?!”

“Okay, okay,” you reply, “Let’s work backwards.” As you move the pieces back into place, you say, “Uh, I don’t really remember the sequence exactly.”

Macaron replies, “I do! I’ll help out.”

Wolf nods. “Thanks. I think it went like this...”

Your attention drifts to the window. Staring outside the train, you see the dark, gloomy outside. You say gloomy, but you don’t actually see anything. You fail to make out the sea from the sky. A cloudy night, you suppose. You lean in.

Curious, Macaron asks, “Stella?”

And then you look up.

The sky is empty.
>”I think I’m seeing things. No, wait, I’m not seeing things.”
>”Nothing. Don’t let me worry you.”
>”Sorry, I’ll be right back. I need to wash my face.”
>Write-in.

>>3312773
>”I think I’m seeing things. No, wait, I’m not seeing things.”

>>3312773
>>”I think I’m seeing things. No, wait, I’m not seeing things.”

>>3312766
She seemed pretty chill with us after we won the race last time.

>>3312780
We died last race if I recall correctly. I guess our loopyness is from dying.

>>3312776
>”I think I’m seeing things. No, wait, I’m not seeing things.”
local thaumaturge is not actually okay

(both of the non "nothing" options have her display this to some extent i think but this one doesn't potentially terminate the interaction)

>>3312783
We won the race with her, and fucking died with the weeping willow when we straight-up exploded thanks to Starlit Path. Both happened in Thread 3, which is what I meant by last time

>>3312776
>”I think I’m seeing things. No, wait, I’m not seeing things.”

>>3312778
>>3312779
>>3312785
>>3312795
This

Writing

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“I think I’m seeing things. No, wait, I’m not seeing things,” you try to explain. You fail horribly. Instead of actually trying to, you wave them to the window. “Look up.”

Reluctantly, they do as you say with Wolf following Macaron. As they peer up, Macaron asks, “What?”

“Do you see the moon?”

“No?” she replies, “It’s just the clouds, isn’t it?”

Wolf squints. “There’s nothing out there.”

“Huh?” Macaron replies. Staring intently out to where the horizon should be, she says, “It’s just foggy, right?”

You let out a breath of relief. “I’m not going crazy.”

The other two head back to their seats with Macaron reasoning, “Weird. Extra dark night, huh?”

“I didn’t see anything at all,” Wolf mumbles.

Someone shouts, “Hey, who locked the door?” A thaumaturge with her hands on the handle pulls it, and it refuses to budge. “Ember, are you on the other side? Open up!”

Ever so slowly, people begin to stir. One of her friends walks up, saying, “Stop messing around. What are you—“ She tugs on it to no avail. “What the...?” Placing her head against the class, she puts her hands up so she can see in the dark clearer. “There’s nothing on the other side?”

The commotion begins to grow. Other people are walking up to the door to test it, only to find the same thing.

You see Lilac checking the door on the other end of the train car. It rattles, but doesn’t move. She announces, “T-this one’s locked too.”

Don’t panic.
>”H-hey, let’s review that game.”
>”Maybe someone should blast a hole through the door.”
>”Macaron, can you pinch me?”
>”Wolf, do something!”
>Sit still, silently.
>Write-in.

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Sorry that took so long, but thanks for playing. Going to stop here, I'll be back tomorrow.

>>3312937
>>Write-in.
Lean out from the window and take a peek on the roof and other parts of the train. Let's see if our section is still connected with other passenger cars or not.
Ask wolf to hold on to us or someone

Oooooh man. Shit's going down.

I think maybe the one thing we should avoid for tomorrow is blowing the door up, since punching a hole to the BLACK VOID seems like a bad idea.

Wonder if maybe we could cast an illume into the void though and see if it lights anything up or if it doesn't happen.

I can see risks to that idea though

>>3312937
>Check if the other cars still exist from the window

>>3312950
>>3312945
i think that from the girls checking the doors and seeing nothing we know that they're not here

>>3312937
>Check if the other cars still exist from the window

The girls look differently. Did they switch to winter uniforms or something?

>>3312961
>The girls look differently. Did they switch to winter uniforms or something?
Yeah, close enough.

>>3312937
>"Maybe someone should blast a hole through that door..."

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The window. Pressing up against it, you look for a way to open it. The lock, you find, is easily reachable, and you move to undo it. Except it refuses to budge.

Pressing your face against the glass, you peek to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the other cars. Only the light of the other windows in the car is visible, and the track ahead is indistinguishable from a straight line. From your bag, you pull out your notebook and quill and start scribbling.

Wolf puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you back. With her other hand, she bends her fingers and opens her palm, “Get back.”

You ask, “Wait, what are you doing?”

“You wanted to look outside right?” Without even the slightest hesitation, she swipes at the air, missing the window completely. Physically, that is. The view explodes into countless shards of glass, flying outward and disappearing into the dark. She does it again, this time cleaning up the leftover jagged edges. “Go on. Or do you want me to?”

You hesitate. You stuff everything back in your bag. “I’ll do it.” A hand on the roof and with Macaron ready to grab your legs if you slip, you begin to lift yourself up and out the window, your arms on top of the train.

You look left, and then right, taking in the view of the vast nothingness.

“Stella!” Macaron asks, “What do you see?”

“There’s no wind,” you notice. Crawling back down, you firmly announce, “I think we’re in an animasphere.”

Those who were watching your reckless display begin to murmur and panic, ideas flying from one end of the room to the other. A second later, someone manages to open the door. Both doors, actually.

The one who stepped into the cabins behind says, “Hahah, what was that? Is this some kind of prank?”

Someone else points out, “There’s still nothing outside.”

Another person asks you, “What did you say? There’s no way we can all be in an animapshere! There’s too many of us here! How could they have done it without us noticing?!”

You don’t know how to reply.

One by one, people begin to slowly leave the lounge, checking the state of the other train cars.

You...
>Head back to where your cabin is.
>Head forward.
>Stay where you are.
>Write-in.

>>3316025
Oh god, have we forgotten their names or are they just offscreen students? At least it looks like the train is all still here.

>Head back to where your cabin is.

>>3316025
>>Head back to where your cabin is.
>>Look for Plume as well.

>>3316049
Stella never really bothered with the rest of her classmates even when her memory didn't start deteriorating.

>>3316049
>>3316077
Cabin + Plume

Writing

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You head to the cabins, dragging Plume’s body.

“...Huh?” You stop. You’re already there, and you look around. Outside, the moon is dazzlingly bright, lighting the sea ablaze.

And then you look down. Her chest slowly moves as she breathes, a quiet sign of life. A train car full of shouting is in front of you, and you’ve been moving away from it. An explosion, and something flutters outside, a black blur that captures your attention instantly before it disappears above.

You fall backwards, dropping onto your behind. In the cars behind you, there is nothing but silence.

Leaning Plume against a wall, you shake her. “Plume, snap out of it!” She doesn’t, so you shake her even harder.

Her eyes fly open, darting around in confusion. Quickly, she gets up, patting herself off. “What’s all this about?”

Rummaging through your bag, you take out your notebook. “Tell Aurora,” you read the scrawling written down. That wasn’t what you remember writing down. Shutting it, you start to get up before you’re pulled into an empty room by Plume. “What are you—“ you begin to say before shutting up when she places a finger on her lips.

Very cautiously, she peeks past the doorway, and you do the same. Something crawls into the car through a broken window. A bright red semicircle split down the middle with a head of scintillating black and grey, its body hides behind the carapace shields that split when it reveals its wings. The only separating it from a ladybug is the fact that it’s the size of your hand and it legs that sprawl outward like a spider’s.

You move back, leaning against a wall. “A newborn faerie,” you whisper, “Why is it here?”

“It’s coming closer,” Plume hisses, “Quiet!”

You clamp your mouth shut.
>Hide and wait for it to pass.
>Seize the opportunity to take it by surprise.
>You distract it, have Plume run past.
>Write-in.

>>3316179
>Seize the opportunity to take it by surprise.
rip and t-I mean hug. Totally.

>>3316179
>>Hide and wait for it to pass.

Pokki said we have no chance against a faerie.

>>3316179
>>Seize the opportunity to take it by surprise.

I guess we were told to attack if in the hopes of driving it off.
If we fail, to stay still and let it kill us.
Great lessons from school

>>3316206
>>3316179

>Hide and wait for it to pass.
actually no the animasphere is attack.
Not the faerie itself

>>3316179
>>Hide and wait for it to pass.
haha let's not get fucked up

>>3316179
>Hide and wait for it to pass.

These things are supposed to be mega hardcore, to the point that lie down and wait to die was an option suggested for dealing with one.

Sadly I don't remember what the helpful method was.

>>3316190
Surprise!

>>3316194
>>3316217
>>3316280
>>3316287
Hide

Writing

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There’s a chance, this very moment, to take it by surprise! But you don’t. You recall the warnings given to you.

Faeries weaponized the animasphere, but they rarely use it. They’re immortal creatures, living on whim rather than desperate search for resources. And it can happen in an instant, if they choose to attack. So you choose not to.

You can’t close the cabin door. It’ll know you’re here! Instead, you circle around, hiding inside the bathroom. It’s a tiny room, but there’s enough space for you and Plume to take cover in.

Swiftly, you nudge the bathroom door half-closed before it crawls near the doorway. You know it’s near, of course, because of its incessant clicking. A call to its kin, or perhaps its mother. It doesn’t move for a second, perched on the glass. And then it turns, heading to your doorway. You clench your jaw while forcing yourself to hold your breath. In the soft shadow it casts, you can see it rearing its head as it makes more clicks.

After an eternity, it finally turns and heads to the next car, one spindly leg after another.

When it is far enough, you tell Plume, “Its heading for the others!”

“We need to tell Aurora,” she replies, “That was what you said, right? Then let us hurry.”

She checks the corridor before swinging out and entering into a sprint. You’re glad she’s here. Plume seems to know what she’s doing, so at least you can rely on her.

You watch as she knocks on Doctor Aurora’s door. When there is no answer, Plume shatters the lock with a Miracle and forces her way in. With a couple of shakes, Plume awakes her, quickly telling, “Pardon my roughness; there’s an emergency!”

Ah, she can handle it from here. You stand back, watching them begin to resolve everything.

“A faerie?” Aurora repeats, “Stop the train, now!”

Plume replies, “We have to cross by it. It’s likely in the lounge now.”

You look out the window. “Um...”

Aurora, grabbing her besom, says, “We can’t wait any longer. I’ll fly out and around.”

“Uh... hey...” you say.

Blocking her way, Plume replies, “You can’t! That’s dangerous! What if you get trapped in an animasphere while midair? You’ll fall and drown!”

“Look outside!” you say.

What appeared to be a thick smog reveals itself to be dozens—no, hundreds— of faeries, pouring out of the train cars in front. “I think Wolf just smashed the nest.” Huh? How do you know that?

“They laid eggs!” Aurora replies, “We need to stop the train, now! Before it arrives on land. If that happens, I can’t possibly contain them all.”

“Contain?” Plume asks incredulously, “We can’t even fight one!”

“I said ‘I’, not ‘we’,” she answers, “Now help me come up with a plan.”

The situation looks grim.
>Blow out the engine from a distance.
>Someone distract the swarm of faeries while Aurora runs ahead.
>You and Aurora can distract them; Plume and rush ahead.
>Charge through the cars.
>Disconnect the cars from a distance.
>Write-in.

>>3316373
>Blow out the engine from a distance.

>>3316373
>>You and Aurora can distract them; Plume and rush ahead.

Peerless poise it is.

holy fuck
holy fuck
genuinely terrifying
uh
>>3316373
I don't like the overall situation at all, seems like some damage is due no matter what, but having people directly get the attention of HUNDREDS OF FAIRIES will probably see them horrifically fucked up beyond recognition if they survive
Disconnecting the cars either saves us and nothing else or puts us in huge trouble depending on the cars disconnected
Charging is a hilariously bad idea

If we want to stop the train, therefore, we should
>Blow out the engine from a distance
Especially since Stella is a pretty gud sniper

>>3316373
>Blow out the engine from a distance.
Our prismatic spray did just get boosted :^^^^)

So Confetto, any sweet dueling strats?

>>3316397
Well, fuck it.
>Blow out the engine from a distance

If anithing we use Plume peerless poise as a
shield.

>>3316373
>Charge through the cars.
Plume is the one wiyh ignoring powers, right? We can distract the ones inside the cars while she zips on through

>>3316373
>>Blow out the engine from a distance.

Also, we should mention to our doctor that we are not in fact fine if we survive this
sudden short term memory loss, is it permanent?

>>3316421
I just hope we don't derail.

If we want to have Stella blow the engine, by the way, she really needs to bring someone with her to ensure she stays on task.

>>3316416
>>3316421
>>3316428
Engine

>>3316424
Charge

Writing

>>3316429
A derail might be better for protecting civilization given our teacher's reaction.
Us surviving is higher than average.

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Opening the window in Aurora’s room, you lean out. “I think I can shoot out the engine.” You take aim, and realize the black cloud obscures the way completely.

After a moment, Plume acquiesce. “Better than what I had planned.”

You step back. “What did you come up with?”

“Charge through the cars. I think I could get far enough before they pull me into an animasphere.”

Incredulous, you make a quick trip to your cabin as the other two follow you. Your besom that was lying on a wall is now in your hands, and cracking open your window, you fly out. Aurora joins you. She asks, “How did you escape?”

“We popped it,” you reply. Like splotches of ink, your memories begin to take some form of shape. “There was eight... ten of us? It didn’t take much for a single faerie.”

In the wind, you try to keep up with the train while pointing your wand on what you thought was the engine. A stray faerie begins flying toward you, but abruptly, it plummets as if all the life was squeezed out of it. Aurora replies, “Focus on the engine!”

Light wanes. The space between worlds becomes unbearably thin.

You shape reality.
Roll 1d100, best of three.

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>3316510

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>3316510

oh god pls someone get a better roll

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>3316510

>>3316510
Can we beg for a bonus for the "good with struments" perk?

press f for, uh, somebody, dunno who yet but those rolls probably aint gonna do it lol

>>3316516
>>3316522
>>3316532
52

Writing

>>3316543
>>3316539
Don't beg... it's unseemly. The dice rolled badly. Not much we can do.
At least it wasn't an average out of 3. That would have really sucked.

>>3316561
i'm not begging lol, i'm just predicting somebody's about to have a bad day

>>3316582
Yes

>>3316561
We already died once, our head migh be permanently fucked and we are not even 13, can you really blame me?

>>3316613
Not really, but you know it's pointless when the merciless dice gods are involved and thirsting for our despair and salty tears.

>>3316622
To be honest I really tough the "good with struments" perk would help at aiming. im surprised in does't.

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You fire, and that’s when you notice you turned into a lighthouse. A shining light in the dark as you draw a line between you and the engine car, and at the other end, it bursts. Steel melts and contorts as color fluctuates and bleeds out, bending so that the attack and strike the innards. The large Instrument harnessing stray power is struck, and when your attack ends, a soft, white fire remains.

And then it sucks it back in, bubbles, and ruptures, spewing miraculous fire in every direction. The car in front nearly derails as the explosion kicks it forward to the side, but it teeters back into place. The one behind is melting, charred as the front half was disintegrated. The sea bridge itself, luckily, is only covered in ashes, the charms that are the railroad spikes holding firm. The train only experiences a small bump as it goes over the remains and knocks it into the water, slowly coming to a stop.

“Stella, get back!” Aurora calls, pulling you.

You had, inadvertently, drawn the attention of all of the faeries in the car ahead, and so, they’ve begun to fly toward you. Fearing that you’d get trapped in an animasphere, you throw yourself through an open window that Plume shuts right after.

What was once distant clicking now is now a thunderous rumble, a cacophony of minute noises that starts to creep closer and closer. Plume slams shut the cabin door after peeking outside. “They’re pouring in!”

“I’m so sorry,” you say, on the edge of bursting into tears.

Doctor Aurora laughs. She puts a hand on your head. “That was perfect. Let me pick it up from here.”

The view of the outside is now cut off, replaced by a shifting cloud of chitin.

[1/2]

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>>3316647

“May I borrow your wand?” Aurora asks. You hand it to her without asking why. “Thank you for gathering them all together.”

You start to say, “They’re going to—“

Your words are interrupted as you stand on the edge of an animasphere, your consciousness split into two. Your thoughts echo, splintering as they collide with one another. Centering in the border of reality, a bubble repelling another bubble, is your wand, held by Aurora.

She yawns. “I’m terribly tired, but let me give you an impromptu lesson. First, you can repel an animasphere with another on the same plane, even the simplest one.” A cluster of bubbles begins to form behind her as you and Plume step into her sphere. “Many people are incapable of doing so, so Instruments built to making them are very handy in these situations, as rare as they are. In the case you fail to find the correct one, remember that any Instrument can be overridden and used as a funnel instead. It’s similar to one of those circular plastic toys you blow through to make a bubble.”

Plume says, “I’m very thankful for this sudden lecture, but please do something.”

“I was getting to it,” she replies, “Remember the obligations of a thaumaturge. It is in our duty to assist those who cannot do the things we can do, and while doing so, we must stay mindful of our powers. There are some things you are better off not understanding. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” Plume replies, “Now, please!”

Out of morbid curiosity and reflex, you dare look. The doctor’s eyes shimmer, and then everything outside her stops moving. Everything becomes silent.

>(Mind Crush) Expend 7 Miracle and select a point within 10 Lengths. Every enemy within 2 Lengths has their Consitution reduced by 10. Repeatable.

Slowly, the faeries skid off of the train, the thick blanket of dead insects crashing into the bridge and into the waters. You gape as Aurora swings the door open to reveal a new, thick carpet of fresh corpses. As she steps out, the faeries crunch beneath her heel. “Now, to see if anything is left.”

Plume watches her much like you do—wordlessly.
>Engrave her skill into your mind.
>Forget it.

Oh, you won't receive the skill as strong as it is now, if you choose to remember it.

>>3316766
Well the good doctor knows better.

>Engrave her skill into your mind.

>>3316766
>>Forget it.
Call me paranoid, but her JUST now saying "There are some things you are better off not understanding" -- and the fact that this is a vote in the first place -- makes me worry that learning this will potentially screw up Stella's head even more.

>>3316766
We just have to remenber to never use this and starlit path on people.

>>3316766
>>Engrave her skill into your mind.

>>3316766
>Remember

>>3316766
>Engrave her skill into your mind.

>>3316784
>>3316815
>>3316820
>>3316824
do the thing she tells you not to do

>>3316789
do not do the thing she tells you not to do

Writing

>>3316766
>Engrave her skill into your mind.
reduce constitution, jesus

I get the feeling this will make Stella's memory problems worse though. Is there another Stella in there?

>>3316833
[paranoia INTENSIFIES]

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You engrave it into your mind. Everything. The way the world contorted, the crumpling of the faeries, the falling tide of carapace.

“Wha...?” The reaction escapes from your mouth as you begin to fully understand what she did.

A hand, indistinguishable from a knife, extending into an opened head. A smooth sweep, segmenting it and splitting it from the body. Grasping in the center of your palm, you imagine the physical act of separating the self from the being. It pulsates, throbbing and weeping petals.

>You have gained a Skill.
>(Mind Crush) Expend 3 Miracles and select a target within 10 Lengths. Reduce their Constitution by 2. Repeatable on different targets only once.

And then you squeeze tightly.

You gasp. Breathing roughly, you check on Plume, who is returning the motion in kind. You ask, “Did you...?”

“Of course. No tool is inherently evil, though you don’t seem to believe that,” she says. Much more quietly and more to herself, she adds, “I didn’t realize you could use an animasphere in such a way.”

“Let’s...” you say, stumbling, “Let’s clean this up.”

She silently agrees.

As you step out, you open and close your hand, that invisible, soft, wet, sickening sensation still lingering.

[1/2]

So uh, just making sure.

We probably shouldn't use this on any humans. This is brain damage.

>>3316932
yeah lol that'd be
pretty bad
we should probably avoid using it in general really, it doesn't fit our playstyle with stella well
we usually try to zip by and evade/finish with her, the small constitution loss from what we have plays to more preparatory stuff we don't usually have stella do

>>3316932
In agreement. We're gonna face all kinds of evil monsters that want to give us more brain damage though, so they're fair game.

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>>3316880

It’s gone when the sun rises again before starting to set.

You sit on the edge of the bridge, writing.

Over the course of the night, the other trains that left the city that day were halted and searched. Luckily, only one other line housed a faerie, and only a single one.

You pieced together various bits of information. They must’ve fled during the forest cleanup, and one of them settled in enough to lay eggs in a fit of desperation. All faeries are genetically identical; the only difference is that you can tell how close one is to the original by how shard-scarred they are. As for how close was the one on this train, you’ll never find out. It’s at the bottom of the sea somewhere, along with the hundreds of clones it spawned.

You finish the last sentence and close your notebook.

Ember walks up. She very, very audibly asks, “Whatcha up to?”

“Nothing really,” you reply, “When is it coming?”

“The bustlebugs?” she asks, and then she sticks out a peace sign. “Two hours.”

You groan. It’s going to be a while before they come with a new engine and car in tow.

“Cheer up!” she replies, “I heard you were MVP last night!” The concept you learned flashes through your mind. You almost expel your breakfast. “Hehe, kind of weird to ask, but can you teach me some tricks?”

“...Me?” you ask.

“Yeah! Don’t give me any of that humble crap either; I don’t want to hear it!”

You slowly blink.

You weren’t going to really say anything.
>Agree to it.
>Pass the time by eating. That always works. Kind of.
>See if anyone’s up for a game of Siege.
>Go for a quiet walk along the sea bridge.
>Write-in.

>>3316951
>Agree to it.

>>3316951
>Agree to it.
Stella could use people to be around, and it's been a while since we really spoke with Ember

(these tricks just need to not include our recent acquisition haha)

>>3316951
>>Agree to it.

>>3316971
>>Write-in.
"Any grandious tale behind your scar?"

>>3316955
>>3316957
>>3316971
Y

Writing

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“Okay,” you reply, unable to stop yourself from softly smiling. You pat the spot next to you, and Ember drops down with her feet dangling over the edge like you. “I know I agreed,” you start to say, “But I don’t really know what to teach you.”

“How about shooting laser beams?” she asks.

“For the nth time,” you reply, “Eh, you know.” You make a circular motion with your hand, signaling a continuation of the thought you never bothered to finish. Ember laughs. Silent, you ponder about how exactly you perform a prismatic burst. “This is harder than I thought to explain. I just kind of imagine light funneling.”

“That can’t be all of it,” she replies, “That won’t make something explode at the other end.”

“That’s just an aftereffect!” you retort. “Just, um, imagine what you see changing. Not the world itself, but what you see.”

Scratching her head, Ember pauses. “That’s really confusing.”

“I know,” you reply. You lean forward, staring at the sea below. To an invisible tempo, the waves crash against a bridge pillar. Your head turns Ember’s way.

She sees you staring. She stares back. “What? Is there somethin’ on my face?”

“Great, I can’t ask you now,” you tell her, sighing, “Now it’ll be unbelievably rude.”

“Hmm?” she hums her curiosity. Pointing to the scar on her cheek, she asks, “Do you mean this little thing?”

You puff your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Hehe, I got it while in a fight against an angry centaur! It managed to graze me with its spear, but I stabbed it in the chest easily. Because I’m so agile and everything, y’know.”

“...Wha?”

Ember sticks out her tongue. “Just kidding.”

[1/2]

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>>3317029

“It’s nothing crazy. It’s actually really lame,” she tells you, staring off into the distance. “I was practicing how to ride my besom. Apparently branches can cut you real bad if you hit them the wrong way.”

“That’s terrible,” you reply, “Glad you didn’t walk out of that any worse.”

She shrugs. “Eh, been through worse. I only keep this because it’s cool,” she replies, “It’s pretty cool, right? Don’t say no.”

Stifling giggles, you reply, “It’s cool.”

“Ha!” Ember says, “Knew it.”

“Ah, speaking of accidents, I once set the kitchen on fire,” you tell her.

She chuckles, “I feel like I already know how.”

“I went camping when I was really little,” you say. You omit with who, because the words don’t really come to you despite you understanding fully. “We didn’t have any fireplace charms, so we just blasted it with a Miracle instead. It worked really well too! Miraculous fire doesn’t put out even in rain or heavy wind,” you say, trying to recall what happened, “One day I tried making breakfast as a birthday surprise, and I tried using the stove. I accidentally broke the charm in there, but I thought, I could use the Miracle I saw that day! I remembered it!” You fold your hands together. “As it turns out, it was hot enough to melt the pan and the stove together. And then it started spreading onto the counter.”

Ember, cracking up, barely manages to ask you, “How?! Why?!”

“Anyway, that was the story of the worst present I ever gave,” you say. You beam, not because you’re proud, but because there’s a strange weight off your chest. As if you were no longer the only person who knew such a story.

On the edge of the bridge, you and Ember exchange a few more stories, passing the time without a care in the world. With a wild tale here and a curious one there, two hours fly by without notice.

And when the bustlebugs finally arrive, those the height of the train and then some, the two of you scurry out of the way as the railway workers get to work.

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Sorry that took forever. Thanks for playing, I'll be back tomorrow.

>>3317107
Thanks for running, chief.
Good night.

>>3317107
daww friendship

it's been fun!

>>3317107
Thanks for running!

>>3317107
Thanks for running.

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Hey, sorry, I can't run today. I thought I could finish my assignments on time but I was wrong. I'll run on Wednesday instead.

>>3318625
Good luck with work and until next time, man.

>>3318625
Good luck and thank you for that image.

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Aurora claps to draw everyone’s attention. It does the trick, even though the temptation to bask in the comfort of solid footing is overwhelming.

“We made it!” she announces, “A day late, but here we are.” Someone raises a hand, and Aurora calls out, “A question already?”

She replies, “Could you have picked a worse place for a field trip?”

She receives a few seconds of snickering as everyone around her fully takes in the scenery. Or rather, the lack of it. The cluster of buildings that make for this small town stands very visibly in a backdrop of small hills of dry, grey earth. What little trees decorating the landscape are all shriveled and on the verge of death, and the few plants that manage to grow here are tiny and devoid of color, shrinking into the shade or cracks in the ground. In the far, far distance, the Mountain of Tomorrow and its adjacent ranges form a literal wall separating the two landscapes. They’re high enough to stop clouds from crossing over, leaving the land on this side desiccated.

Inops is the most depressing place you’ve ever seen.

“I could,” Aurora replies, “Would you all prefer to wade in swamp water? Because we could be doing that right now.” Her answer is met with groans.

Another student asks, “What if we just didn’t have a field trip?”

“Impossible!” she exclaims in mock surprise, “How are you possibly going to learn anything squirreled away in your little hidey-holes?” There’s a small moment where you think she’s waiting for an answer, but she quickly proves it to be rhetorical by continuing without a care. “If you’ve managed to come all this way without knowing what we’re doing, congratulations. I’m impressed. To reiterate, we are assisting with the annual drowser migration. It’s your duty to help out those who lack the talents you all have, so consider this to be your obligation. This crisis has been happening ever since an invasive species of some sort started sapping the energy from Aegra’s shard. This has forced them to hibernate elsewhere—“ She stops. “Are any of you listening?”

Ember raises her hand, “I wanna unpack.” She’s wearing a small bag. It’ll probably take her three seconds to do so.

“Me too,” Macaron says, “But when I say unpack I actually mean lying down in bed where I can stretch my arms without hitting something.”

Some murmurs of agreement turn into full-blown conversations while Aurora stands there dully. She claps again. “Fine, let’s settle down first.” Her announcement is met with cheering, except it’s more half-hearted than anything. Aurora begins leading most of the students to their lodgings. A few break off to check out the town.

You should get going.
>Follow Aurora.
>Explore the town.
>Fly around the outskirts.
>Write-in.

>>3323717
>>Find Rye
>>Write-in.
"I didn't properly apologize for getting you in that mess did I? But I'm really glad you were there with me otherwise I don't think I would be here now."

>>3323717
"charmless"

Ah fuck. At least we know our brain is physically alright.

>>3323736
This

Writing

>>3323789
Fells weird to be alone here.

>>3323793
I just noticed the update right now. I was busy translating japanese stuff.

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You pick out Rye from the small crowd following Aurora. Picking up your pace and slipping around some shoulders, you end up walking next to her. The two of you exchange short, muted greetings.

After a moment, you finally manage to tell her, “I didn't properly apologize for getting you in that mess did I? But I'm really glad you were there with me back then.”

It takes her a second for her to get what you were bringing up. “Oh, that? It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, “I don’t think I would be here now if it weren’t for you.”

She keeps her eyes forward. “I hardly did anything. If anything, you should thank the groundskeeper. He was the one who found you.”

“Still,” you insist.

Rye gives in, “Then you’re welcome and I accept your apology. We’ve had this conversation before, by the way.”

“O-oh, sorry.”

“You said everything will slowly come back to normal in a month or two, right?” she asks, “I don’t mind. In any case, are you sure you should’ve come along? Field work is dangerous, you know.”

You answer, “I-I can’t miss it! I don’t really get the chance to travel, so...”

She gives you a questioning look. “Really? I think Inops might be near the bottom of the list of most desirable vacation spots.”

It’s hard to argue.
>”It’s not all bad. Inops is... interesting.”
>”Don’t worry, I won’t push myself.”
>”I can handle myself just fine!”
>”How dangerous can it be?”
>”You’re right. I think I’ll sit back for this one.”
>Write-in.

>>3323879
>>”Don’t worry, I won’t push myself.”

>>3323879
>>”It’s not all bad. Inops is... interesting.”
>>”Don’t worry, I won’t push myself.”

>>3323888
>>3323893
This

Writing

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“Don’t worry, I won’t push myself,” you say.

Rye’s expression doesn’t reveal her disbelief. “I don’t think we’re the ones to decide. If something happens, we can’t simply quit at any moment.”

“That’s not...” you attempt to reply, “That’s not what I meant. I won’t be a liability.”

She stiffens, realizing you took that harsher than expected. “I know,” she replies. The conversation falls into a lull. Though you feel like you should say something, you’re not sure what exactly. That probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear from you, but your adamant feelings aren’t going to change anytime soon.

You attempt to steer the topic elsewhere. “Inops isn’t all that bad. It’s... interesting.”

“You don’t have to force yourself,” she replies, “I’m going to go on ahead. I think the doctor wants something.”

Her pace quickens, leaving you behind while expressing her intent as many ways as possible without actually saying so. Your pace slows, and you watch as the distance between you and her grow. Eventually you come to a stop altogether. You watch as the group of students head into the ramshackle assemblage of wood, concrete, and steel, hidden from view when the doors close behind them.

Then, understanding arrives. For the first time, you’re able to put into words the expression she’s been giving you.

You are difficult to watch.

Blankly, you stare at the dirt you stand atop, failing to think. You turn on your heel, heading into a random direction. It doesn’t matter where you go, you just have to go somewhere.

You trudge past the dust-covered buildings and the local inhabitants who pay you no heed. What would be an appetizing aroma drifting from a restaurant nearby is lost on you. Sulking, you move your feet one in front of the other without aim.

“Something on your mind, child?” someone asks you. You stop and face whoever it is, surprised by an unfamiliar voice addressing you. A man with a hood drawn over his head approaches you. He wears something that resembles more like a rag than a cloak, covered in dirt and draped over his body. A bony, bandaged arm, clutching tight the cloth so it wouldn’t fall, gives away his health if his pallid smile didn’t make it obvious enough.

“No,” you try to tell him, “I’m okay.“

“Is that so? Then,” he says, coughing, “Then, care to spare some coin for an old man?”

He isn’t approaching you.
>Oblige.
>Leave.

>>3324083
>>Oblige.
I guess we can spare a copper or two to get a light meal.

>>3324083
>>Oblige.

Share your wisdow oh hobo man.

>Oblige.

Story rule one: always help poor old people.

>>3324099
>>3324124
>>3324165
oblige

Writing

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You rummage through your bag. “I’m not a child,” you tell him before walking toward him. You extend a hand, a few coins that should get him through the day. “Here.”

He cups his hands and holds them out, and right before you get close enough to give it to him, he whispers, “I can see it in your eyes. You are like me.”

“...Huh?” You stop, hesitating, but you rethink it. What an unnerving thing to say to a total stranger. You drop the coins in his hands, and you wonder if you should ask.

Instead of answering with words, he allows the bandages on his forearm to slacken and drape down, revealing what’s underneath—a twisting form of flesh and ceramic, fused together so that it is impossible to see where one ends and the other begins. Shimmers of light reveal themselves to be flecks of metal of all varieties, dotting his skins like freckles. You take a step back.

And he takes a step forward. “Very few have seen a shard in person, close enough to feel it. See? You are like me.”

“I’m not,” you weakly reply, “I’m not shard-scarred.”

“Were you an infant when you touched it? Perhaps that is why you do not remember,” the man whispers, “You poor thing, making a sacrifice for something you cannot understand.” You take another step back, but you trip. Landing onto your backside, you watch frozen as he looms over you. “The shards reveal to those who dare touch it. Like I have done so. I have laid myself bare to it, and in turn, it has revealed to me everything.”

Meekly, you answer, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He offers his hand to you. “That isn’t a problem; we can take this a step at a time. My name is Cirrus. What is yours?”

[1/2]

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>>3324316

You move to take it, out of reflex, but stop yourself at the last second. “I... I should go,” you tell him. You begin to get up, but he lunges and pulls you by the arm. The coins that were in his hands fall to the ground, scattering all around. “Let go!” you demand.

“It should do you good to know that nothing matters,” he informs you, urgent.

You simply stare at him, baffled. “What?” The non sequitur has halted you in your tracks. Is he afraid you might leave? You aren’t worried about him. Why should you be? You’re a thaumaturge; you can—

“Nothing you do matters. You’re but an insignificant speck in the grand scheme of things, a paltry mote whose existence can be erased at any moment, even now!”

Fear turns into anger. You try to throw him off, but you find his grip is much firmer than you expected. With your other hand, you try to pry away his fingers one by one.

He doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, his voice slowly begins to rise and fill with wild zeal. “What good will you do, a lone thaumaturge in a world vastly beyond you, tapping into a power that births worlds with as much difficulty as taking a breath?”

“What are you on about?!” you ask. Finally, you tear yourself free. “Don’t waste my time with this.”

“Time?” he says. Then he howls with laughter, “That has been long since conquered. Who fears time when it is well understood one will become nothing but forgotten dust in a thousand years? Time is nothing!”

“You’re not making any sense!” You gnash your teeth. “Out with it already!” you bark, “Tell me what you want to say!”

“Do you know what a closed system is?” He cuts you off before you can answer. “This world is not one of them. The very foundations of it are fluid, beckoning to the whim of those who are closest to its edge. Energies capable of shaping reality itself pours in and are harnessed without any care or thought. There is a constant net gain, an endless torrent of power that comes from beyond! How can you call such a world ‘real’? There is something out there, past the boundaries of the physical!” Word after word, he hacks and spews one maddening notion after the other. He begins to pace around you, his crooked teeth clacking against one another as his hood is battered by the wind.

Only in an instant could you see it—the profuse mass of inorganic material makes his head and eye, splitting the latter into two in a bulging, festering mass of petals, surrounded by a vivid kaleidoscope of unholy things. You stand unmoving, unable to believe what you saw to be real.

He abruptly stops to face you. “We are all living in but a soap bubble, floating in an unimaginable world, and at any moment it can pop, reducing all to less than dust, swept up by the vastness of the Things beyond comprehension! You are nothing, and whatever worries you have,” he cackles, “are beyond trivial.”

[2/3]

>>3324433

Your reverie shatters, if you could call it that in the first place. Turning on your heel, you begin to run, despite him not chasing you at all. You do not look back or slow down, not even for a moment, and when you reach the lodgings, you burst through the door and almost collapse against a wall. Your chest heaves as you slump down to the ground.

You didn’t need some lunatic yelling at you. It’s been a miserable day in a miserable week.

And worst of all, you can still see his face.

Under your breath, you quietly murmur,

[Chapter 4: "I Want to Go Home” - End]

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ED: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zja5mILOn3o
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ConfettoQM

Thanks for playing! Sorry if that was too short; I thought this would be a good place to stop.

As always, comments, criticism, and questions are very welcome.

>>3324441
Thanks for running chief. Just a couple of questions.

Was >>3316647
a easy shot, or "good with objects" helped us?
What "raw talent" and the "book colection" would have done for us, mecanicaly and plot wise?

>>3324478
I have no idea. You probably wouldn't have gotten into this mess in the first place with raw talent or book collecting. But if you had talent, you wouldn't have needed a roll at all. The "good with Instruments" has gotten you down a surprisingly deep rabbit hole.

>>3324521
Then I hope our trusty wand and besom saves us when all hell brakes loose.
Until next time, man.

Ah, man, I keep missing sessions at work.

Theorizing:
There was a scene a couple of threads ago, a flashback, with a whole "metamorphosizing" thing that 4-year-old girls in the setting evidently go through where they "aspect" and get their name; I believe that this means they will get their element, as represented by their Talent and the miracles they seem to have the natural ability to perform (as shown by the patterns in their eyes, as well). I was unsure if this scene was actually Stella or not, but I'm thinking so now.

It's mentioned that the maybe-Stella girl in the scene "failed to aspect", but here Stella is with an element and a name based on it.

And now Mr. Spooketon is telling us that we're shard-scarred and that it probably happened as an infant, so what I suspect happened is that Stella's mother was desperate to have her daughter aspect/be a thaumaturge so she had her implanted with one of these eldritch-ass shard things, which gave Stella her magical powers.

This brings me back to one of my initial theories, the idea that Stella is connected to something eldritch, and now it seems pretty damn likely. She's had dreams and compulsions about her mother trying to reach her, which I figured to be the eldritch thing trying to reach her (the shard in this case), and it would also explain why the hell her brain has been so screwy from the start -- Mr. Spooketon's shard seems to have driven him bugfuck nuts, and it's been messing with Stella's memories and perceptions.

I'm also not so sure that Stella is as young as everyone assumes her to be. The normal artstyle makes her look pretty young, but the memories we know are after she was 4 years old are framed in a way that makes them look fairly distant, she said she's not a kid (but kids say that too...), and the picture with her arm being grabbed is proportioned in a way that makes her look like a teenager, head-and-shoulders-wise.

Confetto has also been mysterious enough about her age to make me think that it's relevant to the plot and setting in some way, and that Stella has maaaybe been irregular in regards to that.

>>3324441
Thanks for running!

Wtf does hoku hoku mean?

If I stopped drawing new pictures, would you keep reading? Please be honest.

>>3325081
hoku hoku is hoku hoku

>>3342194
I would keep reading, but I also would be very very sad and unhappy.

>>3342194
Really loving the world and the characters, so yes definitively.
You could make a serie of images and keeping reusing then like VN sprites.

>>3342194
Yes. Gotta admit I only look at like half of them already.

>>3342194
You don't need to draw as much. But a drawing every now and then would make me very happy.

>>3342194
Yes. I like your drawings but they aren't really essential for the plot. They also help me know who is who cos I'm bad at remembering names.

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>>3342212
>>3342468
>>3342539
>>3342552
>>3342556
Thanks for the replies. I can't promise anything, but I'll try to see what works. New thread on saturday+daylight savings time hour, probably