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>>4538212
Tracking her to the dumpsters behind a Dunkin Donuts, of course, you first tried to hide from her, but she used some method of alchemical tracking to find you. As a peace offering, you gave her the beer you took from Josh's fridge, and she gave you an ominous warning about FOODS, telling you that the organization is run by "Profoundly wicked people" and that they "Aren't the only alchemical dynasty interested in Dragons". She told you to call her Ronin, and then told you to meet her back at the same place at 8 o'clock the next day (so, later this evening).

After watching Ronin flee, you sat down and had a really good freak out for a moment. It was really good. You got all those bottled up emotions out, and then started walking home. On the way home, Ken sent you a text asking how you were doing, during which you both relayed to her your complicated emotions about this whole Dragon business, and you let slip that you saw the battle between them and the Dragon and Ronin.

She was upset, mostly for your safety, and informed you that Ronin is an ex-student of hers who is now a member of an organization known as Pandora: a group of alchemists willing to violate one of the apparent precepts of ethical alchemy - not performing bioalchemy on other human beings. Additionally, they apparently seem dedicated to protecting Dragons, and believe that FOODS is evil, at least, according to Ken.

At the tail end of the text conversation, you arrived home, only to find a Dragon in your bedroom. A Dragon you've met before, named Saint - they held you hostage about a week ago to ask you why a mysterious "Her" couldn't see them anymore. You talked as amicably as you could talk to a monster with a gun at your back to them, and they left. This time, though, they tracked you down for help, battered, bruised, and wounded from the fight with Ken. As it turns out, they were the Dragon in the parking lot, but they fled before they could get struck down, and are weak because they've been deliberately avoiding eating humans.

You fed them what you could from your cupboard so they could have some energy to heal, and when they asked you why they were being attacked, you explained that FOODS is trying to protect the people they love, just like Saint is trying to protect Her (who probably isn't Ronin).

Then, they left.

The next day, you started early, getting picked up by Ken so you two could train in the park. You sparred and exercised and learned a little bit about the art of mobility through alchemy, although you're still far from mastering Ken's jackrabbit-like ability to bounce across a battlefield. You ended up picking a spear and shield arrangement to train with, as a way to keep yourself and others safe and keep Dragons at a distance. After you finished training with Ken, she drove you back to your place so you could get clean to hang out with Rebecca.

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>>4538213
>>4535563
>>4535574
>>4535834
>>4536761
You welcome her into your room and watch as she flings her bookbag onto your bed before plopping down onto it. "Nice place you got here." She says, staring upwards at the ceiling before turning to you. "Your mom's nice."

"Thanks. I built it myself." You joke, plopping yourself down next to her. The air is the same cool, air-conditioned atmosphere that your house always has, but now it feels a little more tense - is it the fact that not hours ago a Dragon was in here, looking for you, specifically? Or is it the presence of a girl who you think you like and you hope likes you back that you're getting dangerously close to. "What, uh... What did you feel like doing?"

She chuckles a little bit, and tilts herself so that her head is just barely touching your shoulder. "I don't know, what did you feel like doing?"

>20 Questions? [Curious]
>Suggest you listen to some of your old vinyls. [Excitable]
>Ask her to play some music she likes for you. [Curious]
>Ask if she wants to make out. [Brash]
>Ask if she wants to cuddle. [Bold]
>Ask if she's cool with just kind of sitting there and enjoying silence. [Quiet]
>Free Option.

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GLOSSARY:
https://pastebin.com/EqstsU7w
CHARACTER DATABASE:
https://pastebin.com/ZSqmrdpn

>>4538219
>Ask her to play some music she likes for you. [Curious]

>>4538219
>Suggest you listen to some of your old vinyls. [Excitable]
>Ask if she wants to cuddle. [Bold]
>20 Questions? [Curious]
We play some of Noah's favorite music, get nice and comfy, cuddle it up, and find out more about the girl we like.
This is the best plan.

>>4538219
>>Ask her to play some music she likes for you. [Curious]
She listened to our music, it’s good to return the favor

>>4538219
>>Ask her to play some music she likes for you. [Curious]

>>4538219
>Ask her to play some music she likes for you. [Curious]
And afterwards we can show her some of our vinyls to demonstrate why, regardless of taste in music, you just can't beat the sound quality you get from a real record.

>>4538451
Do we also warm up the wires and wrap them in tissue paper?

>>4538451
>>4538341
>>4538309
>>4538236
"Wanna listen to some music? I haven't looked up any of the bands you brought up yesterday but I'm really curious about the kind of stuff you like." You say, turning your head just a little bit so that you can catch her in your periphery.

"You sure? It's not exactly easy listening." She says, dubious, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah! I want to know what Rebecca, uh... Rebecca listens to in her free time." You say, suddenly realizing that you don't actually know her name.

"Rebecca Rebecca." She repeats, like she's tasting the phrase, before laughing. "George. Rebecca George."

"I want to know what Rebecca George listens to in her free time." You say, with exactly the same intonation. It makes her laugh even harder.

"Sure. Do you have a bluetooth speaker or something?" She asks, looking around your room, lifting her head just a little bit off the surface of the mattress.

"No." You respond, bluntly. She breaks out into a giggling fit.

"Of course you don't. Phone speakers it is."

She pulls her phone out, pulls up spotify, and puts something on.

< BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DADX_cK1yrg >

Gentle synthesized grand piano fills the room through tinny phone speakers. "This band is called the Wall of Forever. They're not really as hard as I usually go but Spotify just showed me them and I figure my "usual" would be, uh, setting inappropriate." Rebecca explains, chuckling nervously. You nod your head, slowly and gently, along to the music, rocking your ankles up and down as you do so.

"What's your usual?" You ask.

"I like, uh, prog metal - progressive - noise rock, math rock. M-my..." She starts, and then trails off mid-sentence, her eyes suddenly taking on a glazed over sheen for a fraction of a second. You catch it, but it's such a small blankness that you think you might have hallucinated it. "Someone I looked up to a lot was a jazz musician, and they taught me how to play upright. Upright bass. But then I got bored of it so I play bass guitar now."

>"Was a jazz musician? What happened to them?" [Curious]
>"That's so cool! Do you have a band?" [Excitable]
>"Do you think you could teach me how to play? I've always wanted to learn an instrument." [Flatterer]
>Free Option.

>>4539779
>"Was a jazz musician? What happened to them?" [Curious]
I sense Dragon shenanigans. This might be a sensitive topic,but after her answer we can redirect the conversation or put on a vynil.

>>4539779
Well, that's worrying. Might just be bad associated memories, but it sounds like there's a cognitive block there. Not a big one, though, so it's probably not that person being eaten by a dragon. Ken said the diluted venom in those tablets we took just makes it harder for people to be aware of us, not impossible, so maybe Rebecca is related to a hunter?

>"Was a jazz musician? What happened to them?" [Curious]

But be cool about it, if it sounds like it's a painful memory (whatever memory she retains) don't press.

>>4539841
We could also deflect by asking her about what other things she does for fun besides play the bass.

>>4539779
>"Was a jazz musician? What happened to them?" [Curious]

>>4539779
>Do you just play in your spare time or do you have a band?
>Try to play it cool
>Fail horribly

>>4539896
>>4539881
>>4539841
"Was a jazz musician? What happened to them?" You ask, to a backdrop of thrumming acoustic guitars and gorgeously eerie piano. You're fully prepared to drop the subject if it starts going somewhere bad, but a part of your brain can't help but wonder...

Rebecca turns her head to look at you, and then looks through you, eyes getting watery but not teary, before a blink makes it go away. "Who?" She asks, tilting her head a little bit. "Who's a jazz musician?"

"Oh, uh." You reply, scrambling for something to fill the air. "Well, most of my vinyls, really. Ballroom jazz is sort of my thing. By the time vinyls really came into vogue orchestras were still a big expensive thing that not everyone could access, while ballroom jazz bands, and their music - significantly more accessible." You say, filling in some of the gaps of noise in the conversation. From the look on her face, she just accepts this disjoint continuation of the prior topic without question.

"Are there any left?" She asks, turning over onto her side, leaning with her fist on her cheek.

"I mean, I guess the modern day wedding band is the natural descendant of the ballroom jazz band, but most of the time that's just a DJ, so, not really. The ones still around are niche, not mainstream." You say, to which she nods.

"I don't think there's anything quite like live instrumentation. One time I saw Sunn O))) in concert with..." She says, almost immediately blanking out again. "And they almost blew the church windows out! It was great. Hope I get to see them again soon."

You don't press this time. "What kind of music are they? Like, super hard metal?"

She sighs a little wistfully, apparently digging into the memory of the concert. "Kind of? It's called "Drone Metal", it's super loud but super slow, usually without a discernible beat at all. Most songs are, like, 10 minutes minimum."

"Sounds terrifying. Anyone ever shit themselves from the infrasound?" You joke.

"Honestly? Probably more than one." She says, laughing. She reaches over to gently poke your nose. "I'm not sure if you'd like them, though. You seem like the kind of person to value carrying a beat."

>"We'll never know unless we try!" Gesture to her phone and Spotify. [Adventurous]
>"I mean, if it's something you like, I'm sure I could figure out a way to enjoy it." [Flatterer]
>"Probably!" [Blunt]
>Free Option.

>>4540880
So someone she knows got dragoned
>"Maybe. Let's try something I've got around here, and see if that matches up."

>>4540880
>"We'll never know unless we try!" Gesture to her phone and Spotify. [Adventurous]

>>4540880
>"We'll never know unless we try!" Gesture to her phone and Spotify. [Adventurous]

Okay, so she's able to remember the existence of the envenomed person so long as she doesn't directly focus on it. She can express the thought in passing, but if she makes it the center of her attention the memory vanishes. Creepy. Reminds me of some neurological disorders' symptoms, which has me wonder how often the effects of dragon venom are confused for brain lesions.

>>4540880
>We´ll never know unless we try!
>Is the live of that concert you talked about posted on Youtube? Could be fun to bask in the atmosphere.

I think I wanna see if that concert is recorded. We can later check the members of the band and identify the odd one out, that is, the dragoned person. With some luck, FOOD wouldn´t have taken video down. With better luck, Rebecca has a recording of her own.

>>4540880
Nice idea, switching to supporting this: >>4540957

>>4540880
>>"We'll never know unless we try!"
Backing >>4540957's idea too.

>>4540957
supporting

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>>4540957
>>4540961
>>4541616
>>4541662
"We'll never know unless we try!" You joke, gesturing to her phone. "Do you have a video from the concert?"

Now, you're no genius, that's well established, but the second time in a row like this, you have the feeling some fuckshit is happening, to be reductive about it. Something in your stomach twists up in knots, and there's nothing in the air, but this time, the static is in your head, like it's trying to assert itself over something that the world would rather you forget.

"Yeah, probably on my phone, let me grab it..." She says, popping open her phone's gallery and lazily swiping through acres and acres of photo and video. You don't know how she's detecting enough visual information to know where to stop, but eventually, she happens upon what she's looking for.

< BGM: https://youtu.be/JpJrnBhCmhU?t=2178 >

A video held by the shaky hands of a recently pubescent, noticeably low to the ground, surrounded by a wall of solid noise miles thick. "Can you help me up?" Rebecca, but younger, asks someone, and, for a second, you see a glimpse into the unknowable.

Long brown hair, glasses, the same sort of... facial demeanor. It's like looking at what you imagine Rebecca would look like in ten years, maybe fifteen. She smiles. "Sure. You holding up okay?"

"It's loud!" Rebecca responds, trying to shout over the droning din.

"Duh." The other lady says, and quickly is removed from the visual of the camera as she scoops Rebecca up and onto her shoulders, suddenly raising the camera up a good four or five feet. You peek at the Rebecca in your room right now, looking at her eyes, pupils huge, glassed over before returning to normal size and texture with frightening speed. You can almost hear her brain churning.

You listen for another minute. There's not much more commentary from the other girl, or from Rebecca, just fog, men in cloaks raising their picks like a prayer to the heavens, and overwhelming, pure sound.

Eventually, the footage runs out. The ambient piano music fades back in, now that the phone is no longer playing from the concert.

"So. Whatddya think?"

>"Who's the lady in the video?" [Direct]
>"Who's that person in the video?" [Sly]
>"I think I get why you enjoy it but it's not really my thing." [Blunt]
>"I like it! It's loud." [Agreeable]
>Free Option.

>>4541712
>Free Option.
>"It's interesting. Too ominous for something I'd want to listen to casually, but I think it would make great mood music."
>"Seems like it was kind of a hardcore scene, though. Your parents were okay with you going to that concert on your own?"

I'm trying to provoke a reflexive response. A "Huh, what are you talking about, I was there with...", since she can't remember if she's intentionally focusing on it.

>>4541712
>"That's something I imagine would make a great BGM, but listening to it standalone isn't my cup of tea."

>>4541844
I don't see the point in trying to push further in this direction. The girl's either Rebecca's sister or very youthful mother, and she got eaten by a dragon. We can't fix this, and it's ultimately for the better that Becky doesn't remember her.

>>4542016
>I don't see the point in trying to push further in this direction. The girl's either Rebecca's sister or very youthful mother, and she got eaten by a dragon. We can't fix this, and it's ultimately for the better that Becky doesn't remember her.
I guess I got the impression from how the narrative was focusing on it that it was important. I'm willing to shelve the point for now and just keep it in Noah's memory in case it becomes relevant later.

>>4541712
Changing >>4541844 to cut out the second line.

>>4542173
I agree that she sounds important, but the only way this importance can manifest is through some kind of coincidence.

>>4542016
>>4541844
"It's interesting. Too ominous for something I'd want to listen to casually, but I think it would make great mood music. Listening to it by itself just might not be my cup of tea." You respond, deciding to drop the subject, but keeping the woman in mind. Clearly, there is some kind of Dragon business going on, and you get the feeling that no matter how you try to trick her into thinking about it, right now, those memories are just gone.

Like the person, whoever she is, was just wiped out from the world. Erased from every photograph. The only people who can remember her are people that risked their life at the jaws of a giant monster. "Seems like kind of a hardcore scene."

"Yeah, it was pretty wild. But there's not really people around to tell me no, so it doesn't really matter." She says, chuckling, rolling over on the bed so she's leaning into you and flicking to a different concert video.

When you sit there, thinking of a response, she takes your silence for reticence and reaches back to grab your hand, gently pulling it around her and onto her stomach. You can sense the smile pulling at her face. All you can think of in response is "What do you mean by that?"

< BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qcDQiRJfPA >

"Oh, well, I live by myself. My Auntie sends me money and I keep myself on task." She says, leaning back a little bit into you. She sighs quietly.

"What about your parents?"

"What about them?" She asks, sounding mock-annoyed. "Never were in the picture. Like I said, your mom is nice. Cherish her."

You nod quietly, leaning into her. Your brain spins with new information, trying to consider what you've been told. Were both of her parents killed? Was she being raised by a single person and they got got? The mind reels, quietly spinning and spooling. A man on stage smashes a drum cymbal. Maybe the situation is more complicated than even that.

>"Well, you can stay here if you ever want to not be alone." [Inviting]
>Change the topic. "This band sounds way different than the other one. They have a steady beat and everything. Who is it?" [Curious]
>"Well, did you have a good time at the brutal drone metal concert?" [Teasing]
>Free Option.

>>4543428
This girl is too lewd! Abort! ABORT!
Seriously though,
>"Well, you can come here whenever you want to not be alone." [Inviting]
The original option seems too forward for me.

I wonder what happens with memories about a person who turns into a Dragon. Was this ever established?

>>4543428
>>"Well, you can always come over if you ever want to not be alone." [Inviting]

>>4543444
I'd assume they also disappear from memory, otherwise there'd be a ahitload more 'mysterious disappearances' as people like our teacher get merked. Saint also seems to be wanting to talk to someone from his pre-dragon life who can no longer see or remember him.

>>4543428
>"Well, you can come here whenever you want to not be alone." [Inviting]
is it time for hankypanky

>>4543428
>"Well, you can come here whenever you want to not be alone." [Inviting]
+
>Tickle her stomach

Are you ready to get lewd, anons?

>>4543491
>>4543474
Don't be hasty. In urban fantasy visual novels, it's always after the sex scene when the shit hits the fan.

>>4543507
>implying there is anything more lewd than stomach tickling

>>4543507
thats the best part

>>4543491
>>4543474
>>4543461
>>4543444
"Well, you can always come over if you ever want to not be alone." You offer. She makes... a noise, the emotional content of with you aren't certain of, but it's quiet and hum-like, and backs herself into you, turning herself completely away so that you two end up spooning.

"That's sweet. I'm not sure how much I'll take you up on that, but I'll keep it in mind." Rebecca responds, leaning her head onto one of your pillows. "You're a sweet kid."

"Aren't we the same age?" You ask. "Who you calling kid?"

"Am I wrong? Are you secretly an adult?" She jokes, gently bonking your forehead with the back of her head. "If so I want you to let me know now, before I decide to... you know." She says, her voice cloyingly teasing, worming its way into your head until suddenly the meaning hits you like a thunderbolt.

A--

Huh?

Your body immediately lights up with blood flushing to as many limbs as possible. You can feel yourself getting hot and your heart starting to thump out of your chest. "H-uh, b--. Um. B-but we aren't dating? I don't think?"

Rebecca laughs loudly and you immediately feel a sort of warm, stabbing pain in your chest. She turns around to face you, putting one of her knees in between both of yours, pressing her forehead to yours. "You're too sweet." She says, before leaning up to kiss you on the forehead. "I don't date. But I appreciate the thought. If I did date, I'd be glad to have you as my first boyfriend."

Somehow, this doesn't make you feel any better. Wow, emotions are incredibly complicated, and now you are feeling many of them. You try to pick them out of the swirling morass like attempting to pry fish out of a whirlpool with chopsticks. Melancholy, fear, delight, despair... It's all stirred up there in your scrambled egg brain, and it comes out as a "Huh?"

Rebecca reaches out to gently grab your hand in both of hers, and just kind of holds it. "I don't think people need to be a thing to be intimate. And I think emotional and physical intimacy aren't things that should be reserved for people you're twining yourself to." She says, before chuckling, embarrassed at her waxing philosophical. "Sorry. I'll shut up now."

She keeps your hand held, but twists back over so she doesn't have to look you in the eye, head tilted slightly downwards. Regardless of how else you are feeling, this is... very awkward, to say the least.

>Pull her back around so you can look her in the eye and have a proper conversation about this. [Blunt]
>She's feeling weird, you're feeling weird, don't push your luck. Just hold her right now, stay quiet, and don't do anything stupid. [Anxious]
>Tell her that you're okay with all that, or even if none of that happens, because you like being her friend at the bare minimum. [Kind]
>Free Option.

>>4544535
>Tell her that we're not confident enough to not feel anxiety in such an arrangement; anxiety that our emotional connection with her will lessen or even end if she finds someone else to be intimate with. [Self-analytical]
Don't pull her back around, we don't need to pressure her.

>>4544535
>Stay quiet for a bit to gather your thoughts and articulate an answer. You cannot afford to stammer here.
>Gently pull her back around and look her in the eye. Time to talk about this.
>"Rebecca, I like you. You are smart, you are cute and you have weird in a good way taste in music. But I don´t know if I can manage what you are offering without feeling...awkward. Could we...talk about it?

I am gonna be frank, anons. I like Rebecca and think we have good chemistry with her. But I would rather either determine what we want to have and work from there. Having sex, kissing and then trying just to keep it casual, between friends... feels very fucking weird to me. We might compromise here and try to find something that work from both of us.

>>4544535
>Free Option.
>Tell her that we weren't really thinking that far ahead yet, we were still mostly on the "don't look like an idiot in front of cool girl" stage and hadn't formed any expectations. Ask that she give us some time to think about it, we don't know if we'd be comfortable with the situation or get all anxious and jealous. In the meantime, we do like her a lot, is it cool if we just keep hanging out and getting to know each other better?

>>4544659
Yeah, this is definitely not something to decide on impulsively. Better to talk it over, get to know her better, and reach a conclusion after taking the time to think about what each of us want.

>>4544535
>>4544563
>>4544659
>>4544661
While Everyone is saying slightly different things I agrer with the sentiment that our boy is not experienced enough or emotionally prepared to pick up what Rebecca is putting down.
Now is a good time to pick her brain about it. Don't pressure her, trear it like the talk on philosophy she was treating it as and make it clear Noah is new to this and needs time and patience.

>>4544535
Something something we weren't really going in with expectations

Also for the record, I'm Not Writing Sex, not even in some side-story thing, fade-to-blacks for everyone. Sorry if I got anyone's hopes up, haha
>>4544671
>>4545624
>>4544661
>>4544659
>>4544563
You don't turn her around, instead just leaning your head into her shoulder and letting her hold your hand, her palm on your knuckles. "Look, I like you a lot, obviously. But." You say, trying to work through a swirling morass of thoughts, like a dozen different voices in your head trying to each tell you what to do, pointing you in only the most general, vaguest of directions. "I'm still in the "don't look like an idiot in front of the cool girl" stage of things. I really wasn't even thinking that far ahead."

Rebecca sounds quietly incredulous when she speaks. "You... weren't?"

She sounds genuinely surprised that sex wasn't on the brain - perhaps even a little disbelieving.

"No, not really. I was just considering like... You and how nice it is to be around you. You're articulate, you're cute, you have a weird but good taste in music. And I'm the emotional equivalent of a particularly lazy dog." You say, throwing a joke in there. You silently cross your fingers on your other hand, the one not touching her, and uncross them when you hear her chuckle - genuinely, you hope. "I'm not even emotionally cognizant enough to think about something that serious yet. We've spent, like, a collective three hours together. When we reach that point, where we both feel like something might happen, regardless of what the something is, we can talk about it then." You ramble onwards. About halfway through your sentence, she turns back around to face you, holding your hand to her stomach.

"You're too sweet." She says, blushing, bending forward to kiss your forehead. "You're the nicest guy I've ever made out with."

You catch the slightest glimpse of expectancy in her gaze. You think you understand the reference here. "That's kind of sad."

She laughs, the hardest you've heard her laugh yet today.

You are now friends with Rebecca George!

How will you spend the rest of the afternoon?
>Keep running your brain through her taste in music.
>Introduce her to some of your vinyls.
>Watch Netflix on your phone and just be around her.
>Go on a walk.
>Free Option.

>>4545772
>Introduce her to some of your vinyls.

>>4545772
>Introduce her to some of your vinyls.

>>4545772
>Introduce her to some of your vinyls.
Just because we're not making love doesn't mean you can't let your auditory nerves be seduced by some smooth jazz.

>>4545908
Reel her in with that harmony.

>>4545772
No problem. This isn't anonkun after all. If you ain't horny for teen ass you ain't horny for teen ass. Nothing wrong with that.

>Introduce her to some of your vinyls.
They are Noah's pride and joy.

>>4545772
>>Introduce her to some of your vinyls.
Dunno if Noah's setup will have the capability, but could always play them at slow speed to get some sick post industrial sludge. She'd probably be into that.

>>4546155
>>4545982
>>4545908
>>4545844
>>4545777
You spend the rest of the afternoon introducing her to the various joys of ballroom jazz - a distinct departure from the other jazz she's used to, although you begin your adventure through the Vinyl Wall dominating most of your bedroom with something that she does end up being familiar with (as you guessed she might) - Take Five.

< BGM: https://youtu.be/ryA6eHZNnXY >

A cute little thing you've noticed is how she counts. It's out loud, and you know enough about music to understand time signatures, but she counts 5/4 time in a way that you don't think you'd ever consider of it. "1, 2, 3, 2, 4". As you pick through your wall for more esoteric time signatures, the two of you spending half the time looking up names, walls of long-deceased faces looking back up at you from disused Wikipedia articles, languishing in dust.

There's an uncomfortable moment, only the gentlest of reminders of the gulf between you and everyone else, when you play a song from the very edge of your vinyl wall, tucked into the corners, and when you start looking up personnel names with her, she blanks out at the saxophonist.

You distract yourself with fiddling with the times and speeds on your vinyls. 78 RPMs played at 45 RPM produce a distinctly warped, slowed down sound, and the inverse produces a somewhat uncomfortably sped up allure. You spend time running through the wall and both come to agree that "Take Five" slowed down is probably the best of the bunch.

Occasionally, your mom comes up with food for you two, and you appreciate that a lot. Rebecca sounds particularly appreciative.

As the sun gently creeps down his continual descent towards the horizon, you can't help but keep glancing at the clock, even with a lovely girl practically hanging off your arm.

Almost 8.

>Start wrapping things up. You've already spent almost 7 hours straight with Rebecca, and you don't want to piss off someone with a sword.
>No, you know what? You're gonna take this lovely evening of normalcy when you can get it. Pandora can wait.
>Free Option.

>>4546831
Also, Take Five at 0.75 speed is actually boss as hell. 10/10, would recommend

>>4546831
>Start wrapping things up. You've already spent almost 7 hours straight with Rebecca, and you don't want to piss off someone with a sword.

You're right about 0.75

>>4546831
>when you start looking up personnel names with her, she blanks out at the saxophonist
Well, that's grim. How many people have been eaten by dragons? FOODS needs to step up their game.

>Start wrapping things up. You've already spent almost 7 hours straight with Rebecca, and you don't want to piss off someone with a sword.

>>4546831
>>Start wrapping things up. You've already spent almost 7 hours straight with Rebecca, and you don't want to piss off someone with a sword.

>>4546831
>>Start wrapping things up. You've already spent almost 7 hours straight with Rebecca, and you don't want to piss off someone with a sword.
If only because we don't have an alternative means of communication available.

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>>4547342
>>4547031
>>4546883
>>4546848
You decide that it's best not to keep a girl with a sword waiting for an appointment, regardless of how much time you'd rather be spending with Rebecca. She's understanding when you say you have homework that needs doing, although she playfully calls you a nerd and kisses you on the nose on the way out. You sit with her until the Lyft she called arrives to cart her away into the night.

"I'm gonna go take a walk. The night's nice. I'll be back before midnight." You tell your half-asleep mom, a stack of papers lying on the coffee table of the first floor and several more in a manilla folder lying on her chest. Before you go, you adjust her and pull a blanket over her, straightening out all of her folders, and you spend a couple of minutes preparing two sandwiches for her. You put a post-it note on her nose telling her that you made said sandwiches, and then it's off to the races.

It's off to Uber. You don't wanna walk that far.

You pull up at 7:45, right before closing hours of the Dunkin Donuts of Destiny, and get yourself a Boston Kreme, because you've earned it. After consuming your hearty meal, you head out back and wait behind the dumpster.

You don't have to wait long.

Ronin arrives, appearing from the woods behind the strip mall, hacking through branches here and there as she does. In tow behind her is a much, much taller woman, looming over you, with black-brown hair tied back in a topknot-like bun, striated with long, deep streaks of grey. Her green eyes have a listless sort of energy to them, behind what appear to be some kind of modified, thick-lensed goggles, and a deep red mask with tooth-white, overextended fangs can't hide the tired lines and signs of age on her face. Body armor, padding, kevlar, and a baseball bat with about two dozen nails rammed into it at varying angles.

"Person. This is Oni. Oni, person." Ronin introduces you two to each other, reaching into a small tote bag to pull out pamphlets and amateurishly-stapled reading material.

"Charmed, I'm sure." 'Oni' says, bowing to you politely. Her voice carries a distinct low, cigarette-burnt husk to it, muffled further through her mask.

"You'd be surprised. Does everyone in your group have to hide their faces in public?" You ask, leaning against the wall.

"Duh." Oni responds, like it's the stupidest question in the world. Her bat gently, rhythmically thumps against the asphalt. "We don't want to get hunted down in our homes."

"Right." You respond. Ronin glowers at you, kneeling on her sword, while Oni very clearly sizes you up.

"You have our undivided attention. Do you have any questions before my protege begins unraveling the fine details for you?" Oni asks.

>"No, just tell me what's up with FOODS." [Blunt]
>Free Option.

>>4548171
>Are you going to go "you know too much now, join us or die" route? Just as a heads up.

>>4548171
>"No, just tell me what's up with FOODS." [Blunt]
>Free Option.
>"I'll save my questions for after, if that's alright."

>>4548171
>>"No, just tell me what's up with FOODS." [Blunt]
Agree with >>4548229, get their story first.

>>4548550
>>4548229
>>4548179
"No, just tell me what's up with FOODS. And please, no "you know too much, join us or die" stuff." You say, straight to the point. Oni laughs.

"If we were going to kill you for knowing too much we wouldn't tell you to begin with." Oni snarks right back. Ronin sighs and starts leafing through her materials, before speaking.

"Pandora is not a shadowy conspiracy or anything to be feared. We were formed four years ago by Oni-" The named individual bows cutely, "and Orochi, are two current leaders, defects from FOODS. While we acknowledge that Dragons are dangerous, we also hold out hope that we can discover a viable cure for the Dragon condition and successfully rehabilitate as many Dragons as we safely can." She recites, almost from memory. She turns some papers towards you, gently shoving them into your arms. Not wanting to be discourteous to the people who are better at fighting than you are, you accept and begin leafing through them.

Dossiers. Pictures of Dragons, from afar but heavily zoomed in, attached to names, identities. Newspaper articles. Scans of hand-drawn notes cross-referencing people together. "FOODS draws the conclusion, implicitly or explicitly, that Dragonism is a genetic condition, something random, spontaneous, and to an extent, uncontrollable." Ronin recites as you read the lengthy notes - including a page on your own teacher, although not mentioned in much detail, and without any pictures of the Dragon (but with pictures of the federal cleanup crew leaving your school in an armored van). "But, importantly in the beliefs of FOODS's higher echelons is that there is a detectable genetic marker, which means that it is something that can presumably be hunted for and destroyed. We reject that eugenicist viewpoint."

"Eugenicist?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Pandora, as an organization, does not believe in Dragon Genetic Theory, and yet FOODS is planning operations as if it were a reality. Without a detectable Dragon gene, it means that those with "understanding" can simply lie to the sheep of FOODS doing the dirty work about who has tested positive, and is thus proper to kill preemptively, before they turn into Dragons. For "public safety", of course. Turning you into assassins."

You raise an eyebrow a little higher, unsure what to make of these developments just yet. "And what do you think if it's not "Dragon Genetic Theory"?"

>>4549261
"Pandora believes in Alchemic Cortisol Theory. Anyone can become a Dragon when in a properly controlled environment and subject to high amounts of stress. Their body begins naturally and unconsciously tapping into the Alchemical field as a way to vent stress-tainted pneuma, and if gone unchecked, it can eventually create a buildup of tainted pneuma in a single area that backflows into the individual, triggering the Dragon transformation. Our literature back at the local chapter is the closest we can get to peer reviewed while acting within the boundaries we have - review on-the-sly from sympathetic alchemists from across the world. I can show you some later, if you'd like."

"I'll think about it. So, to make sure I'm getting this all right, FOODS "officially operates" on the idea that being a Dragon is a random but detectable genetic... thing that can be tested for and thus pre-emptively removed from the population. And Pandora's doctrine is that anyone can become a Dragon if they are too stressed in a place with a lot of alchemy around for too long. And Pandora thinks that, because their ideas are incompatible, if their theory is true and FOODS's isn't, that means that FOODS would be using their regular coppers to "preemptively" take care of "potential Dragons" that are, in fact, not such?"

"That about sums it up, yeah." Oni replies, her tone much more relaxed and casual than the relatively uptight Ronin. Odd, considering the attitude she displayed last night. "I mean, there's also the fact that philosophically it's bad to kill people who haven't committed a crime yet, but considering how dangerous Dragons are I can understand people's reticence to accept that one. No skin off my dick if you're on that side."

"You have a dick?" You ask, slightly incredulously. Oni's cheeks turn upwards and her eyes wrinkle a little bit.

"What do you think?" She replies, and leaves the question hanging in the air for about 10 seconds before Ronin interrupts.

"Anyway. That about sums it up. You're free to ask away now, I suppose."

>What evidence do you have that FOODS is wrong?
>Can you layman's terms me some of the evidence that your theory is right?
>So how do you guys deal with rampaging Dragons?
>What did Oni do at FOODS, if I can ask?
>Free Option.

>>4549262
>What evidence do you have that FOODS is wrong?
>Can you layman's terms me some of the evidence that your theory is right?
>So how do you guys deal with rampaging Dragons?

>>4549262
>>So how do you guys deal with rampaging Dragons?
I don't necessarily want to put her on the spot in front of her boss, but probably worth specifically asking Ronin about her goals on the night we met her - seemed like she was protecting the dragon. Of course, best not mention we know that was Saint, or that we know him at all.

>>4549262
>>Can you layman's terms me some of the evidence that your theory is right?
>>So how do you guys deal with rampaging Dragons?
>How do you guys deal with NOT rampaging Dragons, and/or people you think could turn?
>Does that mean I could turn into a Dragon?
So they think that magic makes people into dragons, and that they can magic it out, but the government is on a strict nono with using magic on people directly.

Honestly I'm up to allying with them just to get our feet wet with alchemy on people. We don't need to know how, but knowing what it looks like would be handy.

>>4549262
>So how do you guys deal with rampaging Dragons?

>>4549262
Some additions to the other votes for information.

>Free Option.
>"What about Type O-alpha blood, is that really genetic?"
>"How wide a radius are we talking about for 'place with a lot of alchemy around'? Because the dragon that first attacked me was a teacher, should I be looking for some secret alchemy lab near the school?"

Happy Thanksgiving, readers! Going to be taking the holiday off so I can deal with family members and also fix my sleep schedule a little. Hope you all had a decent Thanksgiving meal.

Sleep Schedule: not unfucked, because I ended up collapsing into a turkey coma. At least I got a nice nap out of it.
>>4549633
>>4549326
>>4549323
>>4549284
>>4549267
"What evidence do you have that FOODS is wrong, can we start with that?" You ask, leaning against the cold brick.

"Orochi was one of the labcoats working on their project. He quit when he had a "come-to-Jesus" moment about their work courtesy of a higher-up questioning us." Oni replies, fielding this one for you. "I was just a high ranking field marshal. One of my higher-ups told me that they were considering "preemptive anti-Dragon measures". When he started being cagey about what exactly that meant, I quit. Then, Orochi and I shared a beer. He knows all the science stuff, I just beat things up."

Ronin interjects. "Orochi was one of the people working on the genetic classification project and couldn't find anything conclusive, but the final paper was written as if it was able to definitively find a Dragon gene. Maybe if you ask nicely someone at FOODS can show you."

"You remembered all that?" Oni asks, humorously incredulous.

"I remember a lot." Ronin replies. You inhale sharply, drawing their attention again.

"Right. So what do you have to show that your theory is right?" You ask.

Ronin pipes up. "Well, almost every Dragon we could find has come from some sort of stressful home or work environment that causes them to act out in unproductive ways, such as turning to crime or drugs. All members of Pandora equally reject the notion that humans engage in criminal behavior for seemingly no reason, but are rather a product of environmental factors and unfulfilling material conditions. Every Dragon we've found has been in some sort of extreme duress by the time they've turned. Sometimes, criminal behaviors that get reported on by biased FOODS-fed sources afterwards."

"It's... easier to explain with the papers." Oni admits, quietly chuckling.

"I'll just go with it for now. How do you guys deal with rampaging Dragons?" You ask.

"Subduing and containing them. Unlike FOODS, we have no compunctions against bioalchemy. So long as we get close enough and can survive long enough, we can put any living being into a coma. More skilled practitioners, like Oni, can kill with a touch. Even though Dragons are resistant to offensive bioalchemy, we're still capable of putting them to sleep with time and effort, whereupon we bring them to one of our safehouses and try to make their stay as comfortable as possible within reason." Ronin answers, reciting from memory.

>>4550242
"How do you guys deal with people you think might turn?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

"We don't." Oni interrupts just as you finish the sentence, very emphatically. The humor disappears from her face for a moment, and then it returns. "Many of us engage in philanthropist and activist behaviors in our day to day lives. Reducing the amount of stress and criminality in the world will indirectly reduce the amount of Dragons. We don't preemptively police people."

You wince slightly at the little bit of lashing out but don't pay it too much mind. "Does that mean I could turn into a Dragon?"

"Yes. Anyone can." Ronin replies. "Even some people at FOODS that they've since memory holed."

"What about Type O-alpha blood, is that genetic?" You ask.

"Uhh, Orochi would know more. As far as we know, it's essentially random, or at least a combination of too many individual genetic markers to be easily tracked." Oni responds.

"Right. And, uh, just so I know if I should worry or not, how wide a radius is "a place with lots of alchemy"? The Dragon that first attacked me was a teacher, should I be looking for some secret alchemy lab near the school?" You ask. Oni quirks an eyebrow and Ronin's cheeks turn upwards slightly.

"Around a city block or so. There very well might be an alchemy lab somewhere in your school, or maybe there was a ton of alchemy going on a decade ago. Either's possible." Ronin answers.

Oni taps the ground with her baseball bat. "Right. I think that's enough 20 questions for tonight." She says, and then points it at you. "I'll give you a choice, kid. And I'll give you this choice again and again until you tell me, unambiguously, no. Do you want to come closer into our world and see what we're all about?"

Ronin's cheeks clearly indicate a customer service smile, the kind you've seen burnt into the faces of so many Starbucks employees. Then, it melts into something more genuine. "We could always use another hand around the safehouse."

>"Thanks, but no, I'm not interested." [Blunt]
>"I'll have to consider it. It's a lot to think about." [Indecisive]
>"I mean, could you show me the safehouse and then we'll see how I feel about it?" [Snarky]
>"Can I leave if I feel like it's not for me?" [Cautious]
>"Sure, it's not like I'm doing anything else with my evening." [Flippant]
>"I believe you guys. Take me there, uh, whenever you're ready I guess." [Trusting]
>Free Option.

>>4550243
>"All I'm wanting right now is not to get eaten. Ideologically-motivated fighing is too much for me"

>>4550243
>"Maybe later. I'm still learning the ropes at FOODS. I'm no genius at hiding things, and it's gonna look hella suspicious if I suddenly quit learning even the basics."

>>4550243
>"I'll have to consider it. It's a lot to think about." [Indecisive]
>Free Option.
>>"Besides, it gives me less to have to explain if anyone finds out we met. Right now, I can honestly say that all I did was hear you out when you explained your position, and didn't help you with anything. Whether FOODS is as bad as you say or not, best not to give them anything to be suspicious about, right?"

>>4550453
>>4550272
>>4550256
"Maybe later." You say, scooting your back up against the bricks. You're trying not to look defensive but it's also pretty doubtless about your posture and expression that you're feeling a little defensive - although why, you couldn't exactly place.

Ronin's face flushes a little, while Oni nods knowingly. You continue. "I'm still learning the ropes with FOODS, I'm not very good at lying, and it's going to look suspicious if I suddenly quit while learning the basics. Not the least of which being that right now I'm too busy learning how to not get eaten to think about ideology."

"True enough, kid." Oni says, her face wrinkling in a way that might be indicative of a smile if you were able to see more of her face.

"Besides, it gives me less to explain if anyone from FOODS finds out that I met you guys. Right now, I can honestly say that I heard you out, and then didn't help you when you asked." You elaborate. "It's not even a lie by omission since it's all correct."

Oni sighs, leaning on her baseball bat. "This is true." She says, adjusting her goggles, pulling them off her face so she can wipe smudge away from the lenses. Her eyes a deep, dull grey-green, they look down at the goggles, to you for a moment, locking gazes, and then back to the goggles, fitting them back on her head. "The reality of the situation is that we're convinced we're right, most people at FOODS are convinced they're right, and it's unlikely most people in each organization are going to change their views. So, at least you heard us out." She says, getting a few unimpressive laughs out. "The fact that you showed up matters. I think you're a good kid."

"What makes you think that?" Ronin asks. Her tone makes it clear that it's not some sort of challenge to Oni's authority, an implication that you're not actually the purported good kid - she's merely curious about her leader's reasoning.

"C'mon, Ro. You can see it, can't you?" Oni replies, jovial, thumping her compatriot on the back. Ronin lets out a tiny "oof" and catches herself from stumbling before staring you up and down.

"I don't, but I trust you." She finally concludes, after an uncomfortable ten seconds of silence.

>"Great. Uh. Is there anything else you guys wanted from me?" [Curious]
>"Can I keep the pamphlets, at least?" [Curious]
>"I'm not following. What makes you think I'm at all good?" [Snarky]
>"Well. I guess I'll... be seeing you?" [Awkward]
>Free Option.

>>4551549
>"Can I keep the pamphlets, at least?" [Curious]
>"Oh yeah, have Dragons ever eaten anything other than people? Like, chips or something? Or if anyone's tried hooking them up to a blood bank."

>>4551549
>"Well. I guess I'll... be seeing you?" [Awkward]

>>4551549
>"Well. I guess I'll... be seeing you?" [Awkward]

>>4551549
>"Great. Uh. Is there anything else you guys wanted from me?" [Curious]

>>4551578
>>4551595
You start gently sidling along the side of the building, fully prepared to leave the two now that you have no idea where to go with the conversation. You came, you heard their spiel, now you're leaving. "Well. Uh. I guess I'll... be seeing you all?" You sort of half-say, half-ask, beginning to turn on your heel slowly.

"Wait a tick, you didn't think we'd make you come out behind a god damn Dunkin Donuts at 8 o'clock just to get lectured and walk away empty handed?" Oni asks, with joking incredulity. Ronin walks up to you cautiously, one hand on the scabbard of her sword, and pulls out a small envelope from her pocket.

You grab it, delicate, gingerly, half-expecting it to explode. "Here is 20 dollars. I... am unsure what teenage boys usually like to receive as gifts."

"Gifts?" You ask back, like a muppet, gently bouncing the envelope in your fingers.

"Gift exchanging and mutual aid are important parts of Pandora's operations." Oni explains, reaching into a small bag on the ground. "You honored us with your willingness to listen to our side of the story, which is a gift to us, and we are returning the favor."

She pulls out a small stuffed crocodile and tosses it to you. You barely manage to catch it - it's heavier than it should be. "There's a swiss army knife stuffed inside. You know, in case you need to smuggle a swiss army knife somewhere."

"This all sounds very love-bomb-y." You say, recalling for a moment the school mandated dating advice you've been receiving in Health class (such as how to deal with potential abusers). Oni pauses for a moment before bursting out in uproarious laughter, while Ronin just looks offended. A couple of seconds pass and Oni forcefully shuts herself up, presumably so she doesn't attract unwarranted attention.

"See what I mean, Ro? Good kid. He's got a great head on his shoulders." Oni says, almost dismissively. "Look, you can keep them or not. It's a gift. Your suspicions are warranted, but I promise there's no ulterior motive here. We provide for each other."

>"Right, well... next time, bring jazz vinyls." [Accepting]
>"Thanks, but I think I'll pass for now." Return the gifts so that it doesn't feel like you owe them anything. [Snub]
>Free Option.

Deleted the first draft because I realized something Oni said did not exactly gel with the characterization of her that I wanted so I tweaked and reposted - I have no idea if people who stay on this thread and let it auto-refresh will see both versions lmao

>>4552545
>"Right, well... next time, bring jazz vinyls." [Accepting]
After all we don't owe them anything. Hearing them out is definitely worth 20 bones and a cool knife.

>>4552545
>"Right, well... next time, bring jazz vinyls." [Accepting]
This is mightily suspicious. 20 bucks? Sounds like a ploy to get us to accept that knife to me, for whatever purpose. Still, no reason to snub them in their faces. Let's spend the 20 ASAP and investigate the knife in great detail. Maybe regift it later.

>>4552545
>>"Right, well... next time, bring jazz vinyls." [Accepting]

>>4552545
>"Right, well... next time, bring jazz vinyls." [Accepting]
I mean as long as they're not trying to actively turn us or people we know into dragons to prove the theory, sure I'll take the cash.

>>4552740
>>4552736
>>4552560
>>4552649
"Right. Well... next time, bring jazz vinyls." You say, pocketing the gifts. You still aren't sure how much you trust them, given the circumstances, and the fact that being given 20 dollars and a knife is by itself a little suspicious, but there's nothing to lose by taking it. After all, with the rubberband principle in place, there's no way they could be doing any alchemical funkiness on their gifts, although that doesn't necessarily preclude standard-issue, non magical fuckiness.

Ah, bleh. You're overthinking things. Oni raises an eyebrow while Ronin starts slowly backing into the woods. "Vinyls, huh? Need us to get some stuff for your old man?" Oni asks.

"No, it's for me." You reply, bluntly. Oni chuckles a bit as she also begins backing away.

"Good on you. Not many kids have respect for that sort of stuff anymore. I'll get you something good." Oni says, before smacking her bat on the ground twice, shouting something in another language, and hitting the ground a third time, making a huge cloud of smoke and dust, swirling, gyrating around you. It blocks your vision but does little else, not even providing much of an irritation, although you still cover your face anyway.

By the time the dust clears, they're both gone, of course.

It's 8:45 PM on the weekend. You are behind a Dunkin Donut's. What will you do?

>Go looking for trouble. [Aggressive]
>Go looking specifically for Dragon related trouble. [Reckless]
>You're already out, might as well find somewhere with a lot of material for alchemy practice or fighting practice. [Disciplined]
>Call Josh and ask if he's free. Spend some time with your broheim. [Relaxed]
>Try to track down Ronin and Oni. It's been thirty seconds, they can't have gotten far. [Brash]
>Free Option.

>>4553899
>You're already out, might as well find somewhere with a lot of material for alchemy practice or fighting practice. [Disciplined]

>>4553899
>You're already out, might as well find somewhere with a lot of material for alchemy practice or fighting practice. [Disciplined]

>>4553899
>You're already out, might as well find somewhere with a lot of material for alchemy practice or fighting practice. [Disciplined]

>>4553899
>>Call Josh and ask if he's free. Spend some time with your broheim. [Relaxed]
b r o t i m e

>>4553899
>Call Josh and ask if he's free. Spend some time with your broheim. [Relaxed]

I'd vote for alchemy practice, but I don't think we have any of those dragon venom pills that Ken gave us last time, so it would be hard to avoid attracting attention.

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36 KB JPG

>>4553936
>>4553926
>>4553901
It strikes you rather suddenly that a lot of your progress in life has thus far been able to be summarized as "you did it because there wasn't much better to do.". This strikes you, just as suddenly, as what is also about to happen. It would be weird to call Rebecca and be like "Hey do you want to come back over", and you're not feeling like calling Josh, although the thought does entice you for a moment.

Instead, you pull out your phone and start looking for scrapyards. You live pretty close to an urban area, there's impound lots and tow storage, there's probably a scrapyard pretty close by.

There is not.

But there is one 15 minutes by car, so you call an Uber, wait sitting on the curb while the last of the Dunkin Donuts employee's locks the place up and leaves, not giving you much of a second glance, and then ride with a total stranger to a nearby scrapyard. God bless ridesharing.

You arrive in style, stepping out of the car and onto the asphalt, gazing onward into the barely-lit scrapyard, rusted fences crawling with brown and green ivies. There's a lock, but there doesn't seem to be any security, nor are there any cameras around. That being said, there's still plenty of idle trash on the sidewalk. The Uber speeds off without questioning why you wanted to be at a scrapyard at 9:30 on a Saturday.

>You don't need a breaking and entering charge on your record. You can practice with the trash. [Cautious] Free Phrase
>Bust through the lock or fence with alchemy. [Brash]
>Climb over the fence. [Sly]
>Free Option/Phrase

>>4555089
>Carefully open the lock with alchemy. [Brash]
This will also be a good training.

>>4555095
With the phrase "open".

>>4555089
>Bust through the lock or fence with alchemy. [Brash]

>>4555089
If we change the shape of the lock, won't it revert back to normal anyway? Well, I guess it's safer to try with the fence.

>>4555089
>Bust through the lock or fence with alchemy. [Brash]
It'll be fine so long as we transmute the fence itself and not make a tool to break the fence. Boomerang effect, anything we do will repair itself. Just enlarge the gaps between the wires, they'll shrink back down once we let go. We can use the phrase "Expand".

>>4555199
>>4555098
Thankfully, you've still got scabs on your finger that are readily picked open, although you have your reservations about smearing your blood on a rusty, potentially pointy fence. You wince, ripping the wound on your thumb open a little further so you can soak it into the envelope that Ronin gave you, enough that you can wipe a little bit on the fence, and then grab it with the rest of your fingers.

You think about how a chain-link fence gets made, wire strands being twined around each other, forming a lattice, and you think about that lattice widening. You grab, and start pulling, your blood from your thumb trickling down your fingers and onto the fence for an extra bit of unintentional juice. "Expand" you speak into the world, pulling the fence's gaps even wider in your immediate vicinity.

Enough to stick an arm or two through, but not enough, so you squeeze your thumb a little bit, resulting in a painful, stinging squirt across the fence, and then grab it even tighter, the cold metal digging into the palm of your hand uncomfortably. "I said expand!" You hiss between your teeth, yanking the fence wide enough that you can wiggle your way through, rolling out onto the other side.

Once you let go, it rubberbands back, closing up almost immediately behind you. Unsurprising.

You've got a fresh leak of blood and all this scrap to fuck around with. What's on the alchemy agenda?

>Free Option/Phrase (Pick Three)

>>4556298
Check if we can make metal GLOW without reaching molten temperatures.

>>4556298
>Let's try to construct a ranged weapon
Ammunition can't be alchemized, so the weapon will have to pull all the weight. It also must be able to shoot random shit.

>>4556298
>Free Option/Phrase (Pick Three)
>Practice transmuting terrain features while on the move, see how long we can make an obstacle or barrier last without us being in contact with it.

>>4556311
I bet that among alchemists who have the physics knowledge for it, lasers are a popular way of ranged attack. Alchemy reverting doesn't undo any changes in energy, so radiant energy would work quite well. Not something for Noah to make, though.

>>4556298
See if there's a metal pole or something we can muck around with like a spear. In line with
>>4556311, maybe see how explosively quick we can lengthen it - I'm imagining a 6 ft spear rapidly shooting out into a 20 ft lance fast enough to do damage.

Apologies for no update last night, just got hit with a huge depression wave because it's been more than half a year now that I haven't gotten to see my S.O. Will try to get an update out tonight, if not, definitely tomorrow.

>>4556309
>>4556405
>>4556813
You spend some time rummaging around until you can find a suitable pole, something that looks like it used to be a stop sign until it was broken in half and dented, presumably from some kind of very heavy impact. You yank it out of its scrap pile and toss it somewhere that you can keep an eye on it.

For a second, you contemplate trying to do mobility training, or, at the very least, some running and transmuting, but then you come to the realization that basically every surface here is covered in shattered glass and pointy metal and decide that perhaps you should save that for a different occasion, lest you get an ambulance called on you and worry your mom because you bled out in a scrapyard that you shouldn't be in.

Still, while you're figuring out what to do with the pole, you take some time to test the limits of your ability to hold walls up. Touching the ground directly to create a wall of concrete seems most effective at a distance, since you are technically still touching the ground, but once you let go you can feel the windedness catching up to you, forcing breath out of your lungs and ache into your muscles.

Conversely, it's much easier for you to grab a pile of junk, conceptualizing it as just that - junk, and channel your intent through it. Sharp, imposing, a wall, a mound, of impenetrable depth, reforming the pile of scrap into a somewhat impressive barrier that you can gently guide along the ground like you're rolling a tire. The downside to this, of course, is that you have to be holding onto scrap, and once you let go, it collapses down to the ground, no longer held up by your power.

Working with the fence proves to be much easier. It's already easy to think about a fence as something meant to contain and keep things away. Widening the fence was difficult, but contracting it is piss easy, taking the chain links from "big enough to stick your hand through" to "too small to jimmy a pinky through", new metal spontaneously stretching out into existence like taffy. You have no idea if this is weakening the structural integrity of the fence, but with some direction and forceful pulls, you can even make it grow, extending it along its existing axises, gently warping its curvature on the ground. Very cool.

You stop and eat a granola bar.

You then eat a second granola bar, because it's important to make sure you have an adequate supply of granola bars with you at any given time.

You grab the pole. It's bent and broken and beaten up, so you think about How It's Made and that one video of how they make chain links or whatever, where the metal just gets bent around a post into shape. Hefting the pole up with both hands, you whack it against the most solid part of the fence you can with a resounding BWOOOOAMMMmmmmmmm, twice, three times, until a combination of effort, whacking, and your blood straightens it out into a perfectly straight blunt instrument.

Now, making a light.

>>4558160

You can't conceptualize any way of making metal glow without heating it up, try as you might. The best you can accomplish is making just the end glow white hot with heat, which would probably be a useful weapon, but also sucks all the breath out of you faster than anything else you've done so far. Unfortunately, you are not smart enough to really understand any potential alternatives to heat-based luminescence.

On your last dregs of energy that you have saved up, you go for the lengthening trick. Thinking of your pole like a spear, the end now thoroughly smeared with drying, sticky brown blood bits, you thrust it forward, over your head, swinging it around like a sword. Your form is shitty and sloppy, and you can't get it to lengthen nearly as readily as Ken can with her hammer, although, with some line markers that you draw in the ashy dirt, you can definitely tell that it is getting *some* longer, from 4 feet to around 6. Maybe if you did that first you might be able to do it further, and more quickly, and more explosively, but right now, 50% longer is all you can manage.

You consider, for a moment, chucking the pole away, feeling it snap into your hand as it retracts back to its normal length. You're not in plainly obvious view - any lights around are pointed at the buildings in the scrapyard more than the scrap in the scrapyard.

Nevertheless, in this quiet evening, you can hear footsteps. You back up into the shadiest bits of the scrapyard that you can, and watch the lights, as a silhouette emerges from one of the buildings. There's a loud click, and a flashlight emerges, casting its torchlight across the darkness, cutting it in half with each swipe. The figure is too contrasted by the light and shadow in the scrapyard, chiaroscuro visage impossible to determine any useful information from other than "they have a flashlight" and "they are walking vaguely in your direction".

Hmm.

Shit.

>Hide and keep hiding. Ditch the pole. [Sneaky]
>Drop the pole, show yourself, own up to busting in, take your (hopefully metaphorical) drubbing. [Honest]
>Try to get around him and sneak inside the now-open building. Why? It would probably be fun and you're already probably gonna be in huge trouble, might as well get in more trouble! [Reckless]
>Free Option/Phrase

>>4558161
>Hide and keep hiding. Ditch the pole.

>>4558161
>Hide and keep hiding. Ditch the pole. [Sneaky]

>>4558161
>Hide and keep hiding. Ditch the pole. [Sneaky]

>>4558161
>>Hide and keep hiding. Shorten the pole, hold onto it. [Sneaky]

>>4558178
>>4558283
>>4558335
You drop the pole into the closest pile of garbage and immediately dive behind whichever one looks like it'll get you cut up the least. The way the scrapyard is arranged, at least within the confines of the fence and the hole you entered in at south, it's mostly piles of scrap surrounding a central empty area of dirt. The buildings are in the central-eastern part, while something that looks like a warehouse is behind that, and various cranes and junking machines, along with the most intact cars, are along the north-western edge. Beyond that, it's cars and electronics, in various states of intactness.

The person steps out into the central path. You can barely see them, peeking through a pile of rubble, but you see enough of them to notice them putting their flashlight down and raising their hands to cup their face. "Whoever you are, can you please leave? I was having a lovely night and then you have to go and stink the air up with your dirty blood!"

That same blood immediately goes icy in your veins. The man loudly grumbles, his spoken word removing any question as to his gender - high and mousey, with a nasal-clogged pitch, but a guy either way. You watch him reach into his pockets and pull out something too small to see, along with some kind of cylinder attached to the other object with a wire. "If you're not gonna leave, can you at least tell me who sent you this time? The cops, the priests, or the fucking ninjas?" He asks to the open air, fumbling with the two objects - evidently, trying to poke the end of one wire into the other object.

>Do not answer his question. He asked you to leave. Leave. There's fence behind you, you can bust through it the same way you busted in. [Scared]
>"The cops!"
>"The priests!" (who?)
>"The fucking ninjas!"
>"Nobody sent me! I just came here to fuck around, and now I'm leaving. Please? I don't want any trouble." [Pleading]
>Stay silent and stay hidden. If you move, he'll almost certainly see, hear, or, apparently, smell you. [Cautious]
>Free Option/Phrase

>>4559215
>>Do not answer his question. He asked you to leave. Leave. There's fence behind you, you can bust through it the same way you busted in. [Scared]
Haha, I wondered if this'd happen. Not worth the risk of this dude being on the cusp of turning into a dragon, we're running on fumes as is. If there's something else going on we can worry about it later.

>>4559215
>Do not answer his question. He asked you to leave. Leave. There's fence behind you, you can bust through it the same way you busted in. [Scared]

>>4559215
>Do not answer his question. He asked you to leave. Leave. There's fence behind you, you can bust through it the same way you busted in. [Scared]
Okay, so he has a susceptibility to O-alpha blood, but remains sane and sapient. Either he's living disproof of Pandora's theory and has a latent dragon gene, or he's one of the three-star Dragons we've heard about that can return to human form. Whatever he is, we don't want to fuck with him.

>>4559215
>Do not answer his question. He asked you to leave. Leave. There's fence behind you, you can bust through it the same way you busted in. [Scared]
I don't think we're the first person to practice in his junkyard. Man I feel bad for the guy

>>4559215
Also, there are apparently at least three factions. The ninjas are probably Pandora given their aesthetic, but the cops and the priests are less clear. It's possible that one of them is FOODS, but that still leaves at least one local Dragon-aware faction unaccounted for.

>>4559215
>>"The fucking ninjas!"

>>4559307
>>4559309
>>4559299
>>4559221
You do not answer the man's question, turning around and putting as much of a junk pile between you and him so he loses sight of you for as long as possible. You grab a piece of shattered car, scrape the surface of your palm, gritting your teeth at the uncomfortable, cold, sharp sensation, and smear your blood across the fence before gripping it tight. You imagine the coils unwinding, getting looser, faulty, older. "Open, damnit!" you hiss under your breath.

Then, the noise starts.

<BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-0lAhnoDlU >

Tinny jungle drums pumped through a crappy bluetooth speaker at maximum volume, and then a man with a scratchy voice bellowing something at you you can't quite understand. As you pull and yank at the fence, it's accompanied by a much louder, much less processed noise, bones creaking, flesh ripping. You don't dare turn around.

>>4560543
BANG BANG

BANG BANG

BANG BANG

BANG BANG

A footstep slams behind you in time with the drums, a shadow creeping into your periphery. You pull the fence open into a nearly torso-sized hole, your hands shaking with exertion. You don't dare turn your head.

"What, thought I'd just let you go without a good look at you?" A voice roars, hideously distorted through inhuman vocal chords. You don't dare turn your head.

A massive hand grabs you by the shoulders, and rips you free of the fence, tearing skin from metal. You let out a yelp as you get thrown to the dirt, watching the hole you worked so hard to pry open almost immediately rubberband back shut. Standing over top of you is a goliath of a Dragon, easily 11 feet tall, and the most humanoid Dragon you've seen yet, a drooling mouth full of pointed, almost cartoonish teeth, thick, leathery scales, a mane of blonde and blue lion-like hair combined with a pair of bent, ox-like horns framing his face. A series of studs and piercings decorate his visage, slit-pupiled eyes staring straight through you. His shoulder span is easily as wide as you are tall, his hands fused into three-digited mitts, each finger topped with a blunt, hoof-like nail cap, his powerful legs studded just underneath the surface of the scaly skin with thick, protruding plates of bone.

He bends down, taking a deep inhale with four wide nostrils, a bright green flame curling out from between his leathery lips as he smells you.

Your heart feels like it's about to explode. "I didn't know they hired mice these days. Don't they feed you, kid? You can't be more than six fucking teen." He growls, his right hand pressed near your shoulderblade, both to presumably keep him steady against his own weight and make it easy to smash your face in if you try anything funny. "You wouldn't even be worth the chase. I got my speaker out for nothing, Christ."

>"What do you need a speaker for?? Chase music?" [Incredulous]
>"Yep! That's me, mouse boy. You've got a good look at me, can I please go now?" [Groveling]
>Remain silent.
>"Nobody sent me, I was just here to practice this magic shit I found out I could do. I don't know what's going on - what are you? Are you okay?" [Sly]
>Free Option/Phrase

>>4560545
>"What do you need a speaker for?? Chase music?" [Incredulous]
can't catch a break

>>4560556
Silly rabbit, breaks are for non-protagonists! >:)

>>4560545
>>"Given you're the second lucid dragon I've met in a week, I'm really starting to feel like someone's not been entirely upfront to the new guy. I wish I had at least got some free food out of it."
Trying to say no one sent us seems pretty risky - means we wouldn't have anyone come looking for us. I'm going for 'try build a rapport with the nice horrifying dragon guy by mentioning our involvement both with Saint and alchemists' kind of angle.

Half and half on whether if pushed on it we should claim we're from FOODS (explicit, in-the-name Dragon Slayers, but maybe more cut and dry to be 'cops') or Pandora (alleged dragon buds, but a bit dodgy on the whole bioalchemy thing).

>>4560545
>"What do you need a speaker for?? Chase music?" [Incredulous]
>Free Option/Phrase
>"Come on, man, I was trying to leave you to your evening like you asked me, you're sending some mixed messages now."

>>4560927
Supporting

>>4560927
>>4560934
>>4560556
"What do you need a speaker for? Chase music?" You ask, incredulous, staring back at him. He looks down at you and blinks a couple of times, so you follow up. "Come on, man, I was trying to leave you to your evening like you asked me, you're sending some major mixed messages."

The Dragon stares at you for a moment before bursting out into uncomfortable laughter. "Right, right, I *did* say I'd let you leave..." He says, standing up to his full height. "You've got a fuckin' problem with fight music, kid? It's awesome. Shut up."

He rams a fist into the ground right next to your head, the edge of his finger just barely scraping your ear. Your heart thumps in your head as he retracts his fist and stomps over to the fence, grabbing a hold of your bloodstains and ripping the fence open with one smooth yank. "You're right. I'm a man of my word. Go git."

You scramble to your feet, sidling around, crab-walking around him so you don't need to turn away from him. "Next time you want to throw down, make sure you're ready. No fun when they don't fight back."

You get a little closer to the fence. "Don't make me wait too long, mouse." He says, although you're not sure if he's talking about the opportunity to fight you or "leaving the scrapyard".

>Ask him to clarify.
>Just leave, you are inches away from escaping death and you don't wanna fuck it up.
>Ask why he's letting you go.
>Free Option/Phrase

VOTE 2, select as many as you want, ones in the majority will occur

>That's too much excitement for one night. We're going home and sanitizing our wounds.
>Josh's house is closer - maybe you could spend the night there and not risk your mom seeing you with your hand ripped open?
>Text Ken what happened.
>Text Dr. Hyde what happened.
>Text Abigail what happened.
>Text Josh an... abridged version of what happened.
>Free Option

>>4561798
>Ask why he's letting you go.
>That's too much excitement for one night. We're going home and sanitizing our wounds.
>Text Ken what happened.

>>4561798
>>Ask him to clarify as you clamber through the fence.
"Look I'm pretty much shitting myself right now, but give me a few days and a promise not to eat me and we can throw down. Won't be much of a fight though, I've been at this a week."

I mean, we came here to train after all, maybe this guy is chill?

>>Josh's house is closer - maybe you could spend the night there and not risk your mom seeing you with your hand ripped open?
>>Text Josh an... abridged version of what happened.
Bro time seems like a good idea, we're pretty rattled. Don't forget to text mom if we go for this.

>>4561798
>"Thanks. Really. Been at this for less than a week, didn't know I had so many neighbors."

>>4561798
>Just leave, you are inches away from escaping death and you don't wanna fuck it up.
>Free Option/Phrase
>"Look, sorry for the misunderstanding. Honestly didn't know you were here."

>That's too much excitement for one night. We're going home and sanitizing our wounds.
We can tell Ken about this and get chewed out for our mistake in the morning, right now I think we should just get home and rest.

>>4562107
>>4561817
>>4561969
"Thanks. Really. Been at this for less than a week, didn't know I had so many neighbors." You reply, weakly, extricating yourself through the hole in the fence. Once you do, he walks up to it, watching you, and begins to pull the mangled fencing back together, breathing out a low gout of flame over top of it that focuses quickly into a thin, needle-point spark, bright enough for you to not want to look directly at. "Sorry for the misunderstanding. Honestly didn't know you were here."

He stops welding the fence for a moment to look at you, with the same kind of expression that you had a minute ago when he mentioned having to get out his speakers. Aerosmith plays in the background - quietly, at this point and distance - transitioning into Guns & Roses, who you recognize at most purely from osmosis. "I'm just going to assume you're an idiot teenager and not interr-a-gate that much further. Git." He says, rattling the fence with a suddenness that makes you jump.

He laughs, and then spits a tiny ember at your feet before they unfreeze themselves and let you begin walking away. You spend what little strength you have left in your adrenalin-filled body scabbing up your palm so you can at least call an Uber home.

The driver does not comment on your hand. You tip them a little more.

You get home, yawning, dragging your tired body up the stairs and into the front door. When you open it and take a step forward, you immediately bump into your mother, arms folded, glasses firmly affixed to her face, because you apparently are chronically incapable of getting a break and this weekend is just not your weekend.

She hugs you, which is kind of surprising considering you were expecting a chewing out. "Are you okay? Where were you?"

"I did say I'd be back before midnight." You say, sheepishly, gesturing with your good hand at the clock reading 10 pm. "Were you asleep?"

She frowns, squeezing you a little harder before letting go so she could shut the front door. "Yeah. Sorry. Are you alright?" She asks, gently urging your backpack off your back and tossing it onto the couch.

>"I'm fine, I'm fine. Tired. I'm gonna go to bed soon." Don't show her your hand, you don't wanna worry her more. [Cautious]
>"I tripped and got a nasty scrape on my palm but other than that, yeah, I'm fine. It was a nice night. Do we have any rubbing alcohol?" [Honest]
>"No." Do not elaborate, go upstairs. [Frustrated]
>Free Option

>>4562803
>>"I tripped and got a nasty scrape on my palm but other than that, yeah, I'm fine. It was a nice night. Do we have any rubbing alcohol?" [Honest]

>>4562803
>"I tripped and got a nasty scrape on my palm but other than that, yeah, I'm fine. It was a nice night. Do we have any rubbing alcohol?" [Honest]

>>4562803
>"I tripped and got a nasty scrape on my palm but other than that, yeah, I'm fine. It was a nice night. Do we have any rubbing alcohol?" [Honest]

>>4562803
>"I tripped and got a nasty scrape on my palm but other than that, yeah, I'm fine. It was a nice night. Do we have any rubbing alcohol?" [Honest]
>Free Option
>"Also, did you eat? I left some food for you."

Might be about time to wrap the thread up. Feeling depressed again so probably no update tonight, will do last one sometime tomorrow and then work on thread #4.

Hope you are all enjoying so far.

>>4563702
Sorry to hear that, Richard. Hope you feel better, I know how awful it can be to deal with depression. Thanks for the thread, and I look forward to the next time you're posting.

>>4563702
Depression sucks, but your quest doesn't. I hope you're feeling more like writing tomorrow, looking forward to it.

>>4563702
I'm enjoying this quest immensely. Get better man.

Chag Sameach, readers. New thread tomorrow probably.

>>4562996
>>4562818
>>4562809
>>4562816
"I tripped and got a pretty nasty scrape on my palm, but other than that, yeah, I'm fine. It was a nice night. Do we have any rubbing alcohol?" You ask, raising your hand up to your mom. She lets out a little gasp and grabs for your wrist.

"A nasty scrape? It looks like you fell on a knife, Noah! Kitchen." She says, starting to pull you away by the wrist.

"Speaking of kitchens, did you eat? I left some food for you." You ask as you get dragged over to the sink, where running water is quickly applied, generating a very mild sting as the force of it pries some of the looser scabs off.

"Yes! It was very kind and thoughtful of you, and I love you very much." Your mom replies, clearly meaning it even though her voice is more colored by concern than any other emotion. Once she's satisfied with the amount of running water that has passed over your hand, she grabs the rubbing alcohol out of the medicine cabinet, pours some onto a paper towel, and begins dabbinFUCK

OW

SHIT

COCKSUCKER

"Language!" Your mom chastises - you hadn't even realized you had been yelling. "And volume. I actually don't care about the language." She explains, laughing weakly as she grabs a cotton pad and some gauze from the first aid kit that the rubbing alcohol was borne from, looking at it, and setting it back down on the countertop.

"Sorry." You say. Before wrapping your hand up, your mom scrambles for some neosporin, gently squirting some on your worst cuts and smearing it around with a q-tip. Then, cotton pad, then gauze, then tape. You don't feel like it's particularly better for you but you do feel loved and cared for, which is just as important.

"Here, if you're gonna make these nightly walks a recurring thing I want you to keep this with you." Your mom says, pushing the first aid kit in your arms. "I can just get another one."

You shrug and amble over to your backpack to shove it in. Can't hurt to have that with you - in fact, this is probably for the better. Now that that's over with, is there anything else on your mind before bed?

>Apologize to mom for getting yourself hurt. [Deferential]
>Ask Mom what's up with Dad. Will you ever meet him? [Prying]
>Tell your Mom good night and give her a hug because she's good to you. [Kind]
>Free Option

>>4564992
>Tell your Mom good night and give her a hug because she's good to you. [Kind]
Mom a best. I hope she doesn't carry her hair in a sidetail.

>>4564992
>Tell your Mom good night and give her a hug because she's good to you. [Kind]

>>4564992
>Tell your Mom good night and give her a hug because she's good to you. [Kind]


>>4564996
We can only pray she doesn't have the dreaded Dead Mom Haircut

>>4564992
>>Tell your Mom good night and give her a hug because she's good to you. [Kind]

Got a surprise job interview tomorrow so going to delay the next thread one more day, someone poke me in the late evening ish EST and I'll try to have it out at dinner time or so. Apologies for the delays, boys.

I'm sorry for the multiposting but it might be a bit, my boyfriend probably has covid! And he has multiple risk factors so I'm just listless and sad. Hard to get the writing motivation. Will try to push one out when I can and not take too long. Sorry.

>>4567018
Oh dear, Richard, I'm so sorry to hear that. Don't feel any pressure to work on this, that's obviously more important. Just stay safe, do what you need to keep calm and focused and not panicking, and take care of your man. We'll see you when we see you. I hope your boyfriend pulls through quickly and without complications.

>>4567018
This is tough. Hang in there. I wish your guy a speedy recovery.

>>4567018
>multiple risk factors
oh. shit.

Not much things I can tell you. Try looking up whatever breathing exercises you can find online? Having an exercise buddy through video call might be fun.

>>4567018
Ffffffffffffffuck. I hope he gets better soon. Do what you gotta do.

Thread archived

New one soonish. Probably not tonight.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4538212/

New thread up.

>>4571537