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What is this talking about things like adults and being honest with our feelings nonsense? ... ![]()
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# ? Jun 19, 2024 09:39 |
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![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() BGM: Cicio ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() At the time, the light that had entered our life seemed unreal and fantastical, but I prayed that it would, indeed, last. In hope of an equally bright future, I allowed myself to rejoice in the moment, letting the unconquered shadows that lurked in my peripheral remain unseen. ![]() BGM: Murk Giselle still stands before me, as she did within the door, but I struggle to reconcile the two scenes. They are both real. They are both her. The lively, spunky girl of the past and the lifeless girl of the present are both Giselle. As different as they seem, they are both her. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() In place of a verbal response, I squeeze her hand in mine. I know where this tale is heading — toward tragedy. All the other doors we visited ended in tragedy, and ours is no exception. But perhaps what’s waiting at the end of this one... is even more dire than I imagine. The door to our past swings open once more, behind which lies the end of me, and the beginning of her. ![]() Right on schedule, the monthly delivery arrived, but in it was a letter that would dramatically change our lives. My father, Antonin, had fallen ill and died. I presumed it was the witch’s doing, but she was silent, refusing to respond to my questions. If it wasn’t her, then he must have died naturally. It seemed more than a little tasteless to celebrate someone’s death, but good taste and reality do not always agree. I was extremely relieved to hear the news. The man had raped Giselle. He had tried to have me killed. And now, he was gone from this world. I had been waiting for this moment for years. His passing had another effect as well: my “death” could be revoked. Many years ago, my brother had told me that when he succeeded our father, he would welcome me back to the Bollinger estate, and I could be part of the family once more. Which meant this letter signaled the end of my banishment. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() BGM: The March of Time The future I had only vaguely envisioned was now within my reach. I had always spoken of this moment predicated with “eventually,” like it was some kind of unobtainable fantasy, but now that it was practically a reality, I realized I hadn’t actually given it much thought. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() One to my brother, and one to my mother. One so Giselle could return, and one so I could be myself. To demonstrate who I was. I had to prove that I was not cursed. For failing to do that... would not only bring her grief, it might become the final crack in the identity I had built up for myself. I had to convince her that I was neither demon nor angel, but a human man who had fallen in love with a human woman. However, I was too foolish to realize that the future I envisioned was nothing but a fantasy. Had I been able to grasp that, then maybe I could have taken her somewhere far away, where no one knew who we were. Where things might have turned out differently...
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Whoever coined the phrase, "to fall in love," got it very right. Because it is like falling, like jumping off the highest mountain peak with another in your arms. God, how exhilarating it must be, to whoosh through the air like that, to pretend one is flying, with all the world stretched around you, best view in all the world... but the world is there, gravity is a constant, and once the adrenaline rush clears, on begins to think about the lack of a parachute. Because no matter how long you stare into the face of your beloved or sharing a particularly good sunrise, the ground approaches. The end approaches, as it must, for even when love is eternal and true, life is... not.
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![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() If there wasn’t so much fog, I would probably have been able to see little columns of orange evening sunlight fighting their way through the trees, but the milky white mist seemed to swallow up all the light, leaving nothing for the surrounding area. It was rather dreary weather. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I was finally able to return to the capital with Michel. To see my family again. And that was wonderful. It was like a dream come true. But it wouldn’t disappoint me if that didn’t end up happening. I didn’t care where I ended up, as long as Michel was there with me. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() And it wasn’t just the one. Looking closer revealed several more flickering spots. They moved up and down, slowly but rhythmically. As more and more came into view, my mind began seeing them as people carrying torches. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The arrow had flown through the window and pierced the opposite wall. Had Michel not knocked me out of the way... ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() He grabbed my hand and broke into a run. A relentless storm of arrows showered through the windows we had worked so hard to get open a year ago. This wasn’t what we had gone through that all effort for... ![]() What was happening? Why did we have to run? Why were those people firing arrows at us? With the wave of questions came a wave of fear. I couldn’t say anything. The sheer terror had frozen my jaw in place. ![]() I nodded, squeezing his hand tight. I knew it would just be another obstacle to his safe escape, but I didn’t want to let go of his hand. I was afraid that if I did, I would never be able to hold it again. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Several arrows were sticking out of the floor before us. Beyond the door — which Michel had managed to shut almost immediately — rang a cacophony of whoosh, thump, whoosh, thump. We were... ![]() ![]() ![]() With a deep scowl, Michel barred the door, and all the while, the arrows kept flying. The panic in the air kept growing thicker. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() There was a deep rumble, and the ground below us shook. I almost fell to the floor. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() At the far end of the room sat a small door. ![]() I had been aware of the door’s presence, but I had never gone inside it. Something about it seemed... somewhat different than the rest of the house. I wasn’t sure how to describe it exactly, but it felt like shadows had taken root here. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() He didn’t finish that thought, however. He opened the door, leading me into the tower, his face deathly pale. ![]() In regular intervals along the wall were rectangular windows. A layer of fog still lay thick across the land. Peering out into it made me feel like we had been thrown into a dreamworld — if it weren’t for the orange spots of torchlight surrounding the mansion. The silhouettes holding the torches — ![]() — appeared to be knights. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Michel’s gaze was firmly directed forward as he frantically led me up the stairs. We were breathing hard, and the sound of it echoed against the tower’s stone walls. Our panicked hearts were beating so hard, I was afraid they might be able to hear it outside. ![]() A pile of discarded rope lay unceremoniously at the foot of a door, presumably once used to seal it shut. The door itself was deeply weathered and rotting in places. It had obviously been left sitting in disrepair even longer than Michel had lived here. ![]() ![]() ![]() Frigid air nipped at my skin — and it wasn’t a pleasant, refreshing kind of cool, but a bitter, oppressive cold. This room felt unlike any other in the mansion. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Michel’s voice was quivering. As was his hand in mine. ![]() We huddled together, feeling each other’s warmth in our arms. My free hand clenched his shirt for dear life. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Why was he apologizing? Why did he insist this was his fault? Why wouldn’t he tell me what his “curse” was? Why were people trying to kill us? ...Right... Right, those people were trying to kill us. Putting it into words like that made the fear that much more real. The arrows they fired weren’t threats. They meant to kill us. ![]() ![]() But with Michel trembling in my arms, I couldn’t bring myself to ask those questions. What meaning would those answers even have with death lurking so close behind us? All I could do was pray. Pray that he was right, that they wouldn’t find us and we would be able to escape. However — ![]() ![]() ![]() My hopes were shattered by the sound of voices from below. I could hear a faint clanking of armor. Our grips on each other tightened, and our trembling intensified. Fear swelled within the tower, making us its slaves. ![]() ![]() We were both terrified. And who wouldn’t be? Fairy tale heroes could be magically courageous in the face of overwhelming danger, but they weren’t real. The fear of my impending death, drawing nearer and nearer with each passing moment, almost drove me to madness. I couldn’t think clearly. My heart was having trouble keeping up. My head was a big, white mess. We were supposed to return to the capital, start a new life, finally obtain our happiness. It was right there at our fingertips — enough happiness to make up for Michel’s ten years of isolation, and enough to erase that nightmare from my memory forever. What had we done to have that taken away from us? We just loved each other and wanted a quiet life together — nothing outrageous. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die! But what scared me the most was being separated from Michel! ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() All that mattered was that we had our lives. So long as the two of us still breathed... But... ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Despair hung over us like the fog outside. There were no heretics, no witches, no unholy ones here... but they would probably never listen to us. The moment we stepped outside of this room, we would be dead, no matter what we said. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() He wasn’t looking at me, though. His unfocused eyes were directed upward — not toward any particular point, but wandering aimlessly. His purplish lips appeared to move, as though he was speaking, but no sound came out. ![]() ![]() ![]() I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook, but he didn’t even seem to notice. No matter how many times I called to him, he didn’t look down from the emptiness above. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Finally, after far too long, his gaze slid down to meet mine. He looked defeated, exhausted, and cornered all at once. I was scared too, but his fear seemed to have consumed him entirely. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I should have noticed. Noticed his arms were tensing up. Noticed — and stopped him. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I shoved on the door, trying to go after him, but it wouldn’t budge even the slightest bit — it was as though there had never been a door there at all, merely a wall disguised as one. It wasn’t someone holding it shut from the other side, either. I pushed and I pulled with all my might, but I couldn’t even manage to eke out the tiniest crack. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() So many blades pierced my flesh. A sword in my chest, lances in my arms and shoulders, arrows in both of my legs. I could hardly even tell what hurt anymore. There was an unpleasant hssssssss sound in the tower, almost like a heavy rain. It was the sound of my blood spilling onto the stone. Red... It was red... just like anyone else’s blood. It didn’t flow into unnatural patterns. It didn’t turn into black, demonic shadows. It didn’t cause anyone who touched it harm. It was just ordinary, red blood. Regardless, this body was probably still cursed. It... It had to be... I couldn’t hear Giselle’s voice anymore. I hoped she was safe, and alive... I prayed that at least she would be protected... That the witch... would keep her promise... ![]() Darkness everlasting... dragged me down into its pits... ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() An impossibly heavy thud came from beyond the door, and with it, Michel fell silent. Then, intermittent squelching sounds as something slid down the door. ![]() ![]() I pounded on the door with all my strength, but still it refused to give, the skin on my hands eventually going raw and beginning to seep blood. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Again and again and again I pounded on the door. But the self-described knights on the other side seemed to not even be aware of my presence. They seemed unable to hear my cries. Their armor clanking with each step, they began to descend the staircase, and with it, I could hear the sound of something being dragged slowly across the floor. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() My hope was for naught. The knights... took him away. Took him somewhere out of my reach. For all eternity. ![]() ![]() ![]() After much, much too long... the door swung open all on its own. It happened so unceremoniously, it was hard to believe I had actually been trapped inside. I had no idea how much time had passed, but the chill in the air suggested it was deep into the night. And with the biting cold... there was the stench of blood. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() You didn’t understand at all, Michel... You didn’t know the depth of my feelings for you... You didn’t know how intensely I wanted you... How fervently I loved you... I was never going to be able to find someone else... and live happily with them... It had to be you... The thought of anyone else touching me... terrified me... You just didn’t understand... ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Quinn2win fucked around with this message at 19:52 on Jun 13, 2018 |
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![]() And then cue someone asking her to make a contract. (I think Michel's brother sold him out.)
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I... hmm. Well, that's hosed. Where could we possibly go from here? I guess, tracking back, I'm struggling to see where Michel and Giselle fit into the "later" stories, if this is supposed to be the incident that sowed the seed for all of the tragic events behind the other doors. I have no idea how the game is going to bring it all together, so I'm excited!
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witchcore ricepunk posted:I... hmm. Well, that's hosed. Where could we possibly go from here? I guess, tracking back, I'm struggling to see where Michel and Giselle fit into the "later" stories, if this is supposed to be the incident that sowed the seed for all of the tragic events behind the other doors. I have no idea how the game is going to bring it all together, so I'm excited! ...all those times Giselle was waxing poetic about the white-haired-girl's albino beauty was totally a thirst for Michel, haha.
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PetraCore posted:...all those times Giselle was waxing poetic about the white-haired-girl's albino beauty was totally a thirst for Michel, haha. Yup, that's some fine pining that was going on. I think it connects to everything else because at this point Giselle must make a contract with the witch. Perhaps to reconnect her with Michel at the cost of herself? Her memories? Her real relationship with Michel (replaced with some purgatory fantasy)? Something personal for sure.
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![]() BGM: Murk ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() An arctic wind blows past me. At the same time, I’m gripped with an overwhelming urge to break down into tears. Perhaps this... is the solitude she felt for so long. I have to face this. I have a responsibility to her to do so. ![]() Quinn2win fucked around with this message at 16:37 on Jun 14, 2018 |
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And with that tiny update, Chapter 5 has come to a close. I'll take a small break here to prepare for the sixth door, but I've improved my text parser again, so I don't expect it will be very long.
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ProfessorProf posted:
That's not all the maid, is it?
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I believe it is, but I can't check from the office. Can someone confirm?
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Just checked, everything from "That's right..." to "die that day." is Michel
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![]() ![]() ![]() A tale of a foolish, naïve girl. Looking back on it now, I’m ashamed of everything. But I will tell you my story, in its entirety, without embellishments. I ask that you please... not let go of my hand. ![]() Blood had seeped into the fabric, and it was beginning to dry. When I clenched it in my hand, it made soft crackling sounds. The oppressive stench of death lingered in the tower. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() BGM: Everybody's Crying ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() - that she was just telling me what I wanted to hear. But I believed her. I accepted her proposition. As unbelievable as it sounded, my desire for it to be real overpowered everything. It was impossible not to grasp at the straws she was dangling in front of me. That was all I could do at the time. The witch’s voice also had an inexplicable... power to it. It made me believe, as outrageous as it was, that she really could bring you back — “reconstruct” you. Maybe because I had seen her turn a door into an immovable wall. Or maybe because I had heard her disembodied voice. But I don’t think those are enough to explain it... My guess is... she had me under her spell. That was the moment I became the Maid. But I assure you, I was, at that point, still the same Giselle you knew and loved. ![]() ![]() ![]() From the moment I lent my ear to the witch’s sweet temptations, the mansion underwent an unimaginable transformation. No light shone through the windows, despite them still being unobstructed — not morning, day, or evening. In fact, the concepts of “morning,” “day,” and “evening” did not seem to exist. The darkness resembled that of when the windows had all been sealed off, but there was something more fundamentally... unreal about it. Like it was hovering over a vast, all-consuming abyss within a constant haze of malice. I felt like I had been cast into some unknown realm, and that was why there was nothing beyond the windows. And the house was not the only thing that underwent changes — I too was no exception. In the blink of an eye, all my basic human urges vanished. I stopped feeling hungry, and I no longer needed sleep. Naturally, I was bewildered by what was happening to me, what I was turning into. ![]() So I meandered through the mansion’s halls. My original intent was to explore the entire house, but I found myself drawn toward one room in particular. ![]() BGM: Murk There was no light, not a trace of color remaining in your chambers. But the bed was the same shape, the walls the same texture, the curtains the same design as when you had been alive. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I had no idea how to explain anything that had happened to the mansion. But it was clear enough that I was imprisoned within its walls. I was all alone in a nebulous sphere of bleak darkness. And beyond its walls lay void. The layout of the house remained unchanged, but I felt as though I had wandered into a twisting labyrinth. I could cry, but there was no one there to soothe me. All it did was provoke her disembodied cackling, which she followed with, ![]()
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I think the witch might be up to something.
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I feel like the Michel/Giselle episode is actually considerably less depressing than most of the others. The others (with the exception of the fake version of Michel's) generally have a tragedy centered around the core romance failing due to tragic mistakes/misunderstandings, but in this episode their relationship stays strong and they're just screwed over by fate.resurgam40 posted:Whoever coined the phrase, "to fall in love," got it very right. Because it is like falling, like jumping off the highest mountain peak with another in your arms. God, how exhilarating it must be, to whoosh through the air like that, to pretend one is flying, with all the world stretched around you, best view in all the world... but the world is there, gravity is a constant, and once the adrenaline rush clears, on begins to think about the lack of a parachute. Because no matter how long you stare into the face of your beloved or sharing a particularly good sunrise, the ground approaches. The end approaches, as it must, for even when love is eternal and true, life is... not. Um, pretty sure that most people's loves don't inevitably end up in grand tragedy (or that the phrase "fall in love" is referring to the inevitable end to love resulting from human mortality). Ytlaya fucked around with this message at 07:17 on Jun 19, 2018 |
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Belatedly realizing Giselle as the maid likely retained her fondness for the garden because of the rose ![]()
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![]() BGM: Murk One day, I decided I would read the books left in the library. Despite there being more than a hundred volumes, I finished every one of them in what felt like no time at all. My life was a neverending cycle. Day in and day out, day in and day out... The house had no visitors. No one — rather, nothing at all set foot upon the property. There were no signs of other life whatsoever there. No birds singing in the morning. No cats sunbathing in the garden. No mice scurrying about the kitchen. No creepy-crawly insects. There was nothing. Nothing at all. The only thing that broke the long stretches of silence was her voice. Tell me, was she kind to you? Was she friendly and courteous? Because she was... quite harsh when she spoke to me. These were the kinds of things she was always saying to me: ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() My face was pale and lifeless, my eyes hollow, my cheeks sunken, heavy bags beneath my eyes. My hair had lost its sheen, and it grew wildly. I was quickly losing everything that made me recognizable as me, and the thought sent a shiver down my spine. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I wanted to ensure I didn’t turn into some horrifying creature... My hair grew, so time seemed to be passing... but I didn’t appear to age at all. The flow of time had become perplexingly vague and uncertain. Was it stopped? Or was it moving? I couldn’t tell. On occasion, I would practice smiling in front of the mirror. My smile was, after all, my one really distinctive feature, and I was certain you had seen me smiling more than anything. Even if my appearance had changed drastically, I thought, you would still be able to recognize me by my smile. A woman standing alone in front of a mirror practicing how to smile. I’m sure that was quite the comical sight. And that was about how my days went — for an incomprehensibly long time. ![]() For the first hundred years, I kept track of how much time had passed. An hour, a day, a month, a year, ten years, fifty... But once it had surpassed a person’s average lifespan, the counting started driving me mad, and so I stopped. My sense of time began to numb. In place of sleep, I spent my days in a trance-like state. Doing so, I was less aware of the passage of time, which made it a little easier to bear. Suspended in this bubble of time, my mind went out to you. ![]() The next thing I lost a sense of was myself. I lived as a human for twenty-one years. After spending nearly ten times that trapped in the mansion, I began to feel like that was all I had ever been. That maybe my “past” was all a construction of my imagination. That, as an otherworldly being, I merely fantasized about being human. Had I actually had a family? Had there actually been other people in the world? Did cities and villages really exist? Was there ever really a time when light shone through the windows — when we were happy? But I knew if I started doubting everything, I wouldn’t be able to maintain myself, so I settled on believing one thing: that you, Michel, were real. That you had been with me, that I had loved you, and that it was you I was waiting for. I tried to always remember that one fact. ![]() My characteristic energy and cheer were disappearing. By then, I hardly ever raised my voice anymore. And in response to that change, the witch seemed to treat me a little nicer. On occasion, I thought I could sense her presence nearby. Like she might reveal her form to me from beyond the darkness, instead of only speaking to me. I could feel her sitting beside me. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() They were quite strange to behold. The old me might have been stricken with fascination by them, but at that point... I wasn’t even sure how to rejoice, how to be impressed, or how to be moved anymore. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The thought crossed my mind that maybe Morgana’s guarantee that you would be “reconstructed” was just a lie to trick me into staying here, but I quickly discarded it. Because if she had been lying, it would strip all meaning from my very existence. It would take from me my purpose for being here. So I didn’t want to accept that possibility. I had no choice but to persevere in my belief that you would return. ...I had always thought I would be all right, that my faith would never waver. I still believed in myself. But you can be the happiest, most optimistic, resolute person in the world, and you will still break eventually. ![]()
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![]() ![]() ![]() BGM: Her Dying Voice Sunlight, which I had not seen in all that time, shone in from outside. ![]() At first, I did not believe it was real. I thought it was a hallucination born of my inner desires. And I thought I must have completely lost it for my fantasies to have escaped my mind. But it didn’t matter if it was all an illusion; the gentle breeze blowing in through the window felt wonderful. The smell of grass, the chirping of birds, the glistening blue sky... it was like a thousand memories rushing back all at once, and it brought tears to my eyes. ![]() And as she always did, the witch’s voice crushed my elation, dragging me back to reality. Reveling in the sight of the outside was the last thing I should have been doing, for it was that moment that began my true decline. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() For so long, the door had refused to budge. For so long, light had forsaken these halls. For so long, there had been no trace of life. And now, all of that had been turned on its head. I felt like I had stepped into Heaven on Earth. I know it sounds melodramatic, so please don’t laugh. It was almost certainly a perfectly ordinary slice of nature. Leaves and grass rustled in the wind, flowers specked the earth, and in the distance was a city I didn’t recognize. ![]() I wondered where I was, of course, but I neither shouted nor jumped in surprise. Instead, I found myself accepting of my circumstances, as unnatural as they might have been. As I was standing there idly before the entrance, a carriage rolled up. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The middle-aged man approached me. From his attire and the way he held himself, he appeared to be upper-class. However, the words coming out of his mouth were not in the language I had grown up speaking. ![]() Naturally, I had no idea how such a thing was possible. And the longer I stood there staring at him absentmindedly, the more incredulous he became. My immediate mission was to overcome the language barrier. Fortunately, I suppose, I was able to understand bits and pieces of what he had said. As merchants in the capital, my family did business with people from other countries, and as a result, I had learned a handful of words. The problem was... it had been so long ago, I had no confidence whatsoever in my ability to hold a conversation. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() As I am sure you have already guessed, this man was the Rhodes siblings’ grandfather. He was also the first person I served under as the Maid. ![]() BGM: Petalouda He only hired a handful of servants, claiming he was “not fond of clamor.” There was a single chef, a physician, a servant to take care of all the cleaning, and then me, who served as his personal assistant. Whenever he got the chance, Hayden would chase me down and make me practice proper etiquette. According to him, I had much to learn. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Hayden did not go easy on me, either. In addition to my day-to-day duties, I studied etiquette, the language, proper pronunciation, and formal diction. Any time I made the slightest mistake, he would shout his dissatisfaction. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() In addition to being my master, Hayden was my teacher. When he yelled, he grew twice his size, and I shrunk to half mine — but it wasn’t at all an unpleasant experience, because I knew he wasn’t raising his voice to belittle me. His instruction may have been harsh, but it was human interaction. There were people around that I could talk to, and that was wonderful. I was starting to regain some of my humanity. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I didn’t know much about Hayden’s situation — why he had “retired” to this mansion all alone, away from the rest of his family, but anytime I asked about them, he would say, ![]() with a melancholic frown. ![]() By that point, my etiquette had improved enough to satisfy his high standards. In that time, the mansion underwent a number of decor changes, as Hayden brought in sculptors to work on different areas of the house. He also sealed off rooms that were not in use — such as the observation tower and the chapel. It was a sad thing, seeing areas with so many memories for me falling into disuse, but as a mere servant, I had no say in the matter. In addition, Hayden seemed to greatly enjoy renovating the house, so I watched him warmly. The furniture was all gradually replaced, gorgeous paintings hung on the walls, colorfully patterned curtains installed, and a brilliant rose garden planted. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The grief of not having you around still weighed heavily on my mind, but I was slowly approaching contentedness. Life with Hayden was slow and uneventful, peaceful and relaxing. I imagine my heart was seeking anything to alleviate its pain, and it found that in the beautifully remodeled mansion, the garden blooming wildly with roses, and my time with Hayden. I was even beginning to think... this life was enough for me. That I would be okay with this being the end, if it meant more of the tranquility I felt. I was, like a coward, considering giving up the fight. Please do forgive me for ever considering such a thing... ![]() A gift had apparently arrived from his son, who lived far away. In it was a tea set, some leaves, and a small jar of sugar. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() BGM: None ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Thanks to the quick treatment provided by his personal physician, Hayden survived, but he didn’t make it out with much more than his life. He was permanently bedridden by the affair. Evidently, the sugar I had put in his tea... had contained poison, which had done irreparable damage to his nerves and muscles. Most of his body was completely immobile, except for his left arm. ![]() BGM: Archerontia Styx ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
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Ah, so Prisoner of Illusion doesn't just refer to Michel.
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Finally someone who wasn't an rear end in a top hat!
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I'm glad Giselle got a respite.
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So the incest kids are real, that make any of the first door true?
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TheGreatEvilKing posted:So the incest kids are real, that make any of the first door true? Hayden posted:
It would appear so.
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Well, that just makes the tragedy of the First Door worse. Lovely.
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HerpicleOmnicron5 posted:Well, that just makes the tragedy of the First Door worse. Lovely. I bet all the doors end up looking worse after this. Call it a hunch.
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ultrafilter posted:I bet all the doors end up looking worse after this. Call it a hunch. Now, I don't think they can make the second door worse.
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![]() He had strangled himself with his left hand. I should have been more attentive. I should have recognized how much pain he was in, how much it crushed him to have been betrayed by his own family. I should have realized how he truly felt — how fragile he really was... I fell into a hopeless gloom. I could hardly believe that the quiet life I had finally attained had been shattered in the blink of an eye. Hayden’s other servants quickly went their own ways, and I vividly remember the dirty looks they all gave me. Everyone who knew how he had died... assumed I had done it. I had no reason to kill him, though... But they had more than enough to believe so — for I had, indeed, been the last person to see him alive, and I held firmly to the story he had asked me to tell. While I was unable to convince the other servants, his family was far more accepting of the story that he had departed for the next world happily. Though that did not make the truth any less heartbreaking, especially since I was the only one who knew it. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() BGM: Murk ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() My hands were shaking, my heart pounding. My whole body was wracked with terror, but... I could have sworn I heard Morgana gasp. This was her one weakness, I thought. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Learning that absolutely crushed me. My backup plan, the one escape route I had thought available to me had been ripped away. My spirit crumbled... and I felt myself sinking into a vast darkness. I began losing my grip on myself... which is when I recalled Hayden’s advice: “Build a cocoon.” It was the only option I had left — my final chance at protecting myself. Although ultimately... I was unsuccessful in that endeavor, as you know... but by that point, my mind and spirit had all but been lost, eroded away by the years of solitude, the witch’s whispers, the brief glimmer of happiness, and the eternal, boundless darkness it had left me in. It was in that moment that all light drained from my eyes, and it was in that moment that the Maid was born. ![]() BGM: Ephemera ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The inseparable siblings ran off toward the mansion, hand in hand. It was a heartwarming sight. But the next moment, when they stepped inside, I saw something else: ![]() The whole house looked as though it was cackling. It was, I presume, the witch Morgana’s madness taking form — a manifestation of how she felt now that her centuries-in-the-making wish was bearing fruit. Those two children were the ones Morgana had been waiting for. Had I still had any willpower to fight left in me, I would have taken them by the hands and sent them somewhere far away. I would have done something before the house swallowed them up. But instead, I just gently lowered my eyes. Misfortune would surely sink its teeth into those two children before long. Pain and misery would befall them. I knew no good lay ahead for them, but my heart had all but frozen solid. I had my hands full taking care of myself. So I let Hayden’s beloved grandchildren fall into the witch’s hands. I was, for all intents and purposes, Morgana’s marionette. ![]() BGM: Everybody's Crying ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() The bile overflowing from her words — the pure, unadulterated hatred brimming within — consumed me more than the horrifying things they described. She was brutally honest, each word a carefully sharpened blade of animosity. How much bitterness did you have to carry inside you to become like her? How long did you have to feel nothing but hatred to become like her? I felt like, if I let my guard down, I would be consumed by her enmity — it would become mine, and I would grow to despise them myself. All the while, I kept my mind on one, single thing — that is, what was left of my mind, locked away inside a shell of my own creation. It was that solitary truth that allowed me to hold onto my human emotions, to continue believing. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Because I didn’t remember enough... to know any better. You already know who I speak of, don’t you? The person who called upon Rose Manor that fated stormy night. The girl with almost translucently pale skin, chillingly white hair, and eyes like jewels. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I no longer recognized “Michel” as anything more than a concept. Man or woman, elderly or infant, as long as they had white hair, red eyes, and the right name, they were you. I needed anything I could get. I was so desperate the thought never even crossed my mind that she was not you. What do you think, seeing me like this — that I’m helpless and hopeless? ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I was, at that point, completely out of my mind. Broken. My smiles, frowns, and gasps had all been replaced with imitations. Shortly afterward, the flaxen-haired boy moved out of the house and went on to become a priest. The girl fell ill a few years later, her disease eventually taking her life, but the boy never once returned home. The Rhodes family crumbled. I couldn’t bring myself to grieve for them, or to reflect on Hayden’s sorrowful end. I simply waited for time to begin moving once more.
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Oh, right. The French pronunciation of "Michael".
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So her name’s been Michelle the whole time! But she’s not a genderbent Michel... or... ??? I also like how chill Giselle is about her soulmate suddenly being a woman. She’s great.
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Giselle's forgotten everything about her soulmate other than the name and the hair.
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It's been like... centuries. She's less chill than desperate and resigned. Not really the lesbiotic romance of my dreams, I'll tell you what.
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So all the doors are true huh.
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It's a good thing this is a text based medium because I have no idea how you're supposed to pronounce those two names differently.
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Double Plus Undead posted:It's a good thing this is a text based medium because I have no idea how you're supposed to pronounce those two names differently. They're kind of pronounced the same. The exact same, actually, which is where Giselle's confusion in this post comes from. Theoretically I guess you could pronounce Michel with a hard k, I suppose? But it's not.
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Double Plus Undead posted:It's a good thing this is a text based medium because I have no idea how you're supposed to pronounce those two names differently. The twist is Michel, some may pronounce as Michael. The Maid does not realise the difference when she states her name, it's only for the audience (and the obvious note that she's a woman, so it's Michelle instead of Michel) to tell that there is in fact a difference.
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Updates may be slow this week, and if they are it's because my office is a five minute drive from the hotel where SGDQ is happening
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witchcore ricepunk posted:So her name’s been Michelle the whole time! But she’s not a genderbent Michel... or... ??? I also like how chill Giselle is about her soulmate suddenly being a woman. She’s great. The trans Michel theory is powerful imo. Just that some reincarnations Michel doesn't feel the same way about gender imo. Unless we see Michel and Michelle in the same room, then I may need to revise my opinion. It really is as the witch Morgana says though, any reality in which Michel isn't socialized similarly or have a history similar to the one he knew Giselle in means that he's a basically different person. Giselle could be waiting a long time, possibly forever, for this reincarnation stuff to shake out the way she wants it to.
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POOL IS CLOSED posted:It's been like... centuries. She's less chill than desperate and resigned. Not really the lesbiotic romance of my dreams, I'll tell you what. Right... I'm just glad there isn't like a, "but I'm straight!" moment.
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# ? Jun 19, 2024 09:39 |
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All I will say is there is not an ounce of wasted writing or development in the whole VN. Side note: Prof are you planning to do Requim for Innocence after this? It’s quite good
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