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 Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:16 pm
The weapon sunk into Chris, in in in until he was sure he was going to cut his original in half. The original didn't make a sound, too startled, probably. Good, that meant he didn't have any time to consider if it would hurt. He began to pull his weapon out, and the original disappeared.
For now, for this moment, he was Chris.
He turned to face the white queen as his new self, confident.
"In dreams, new memories are created," the voice speaks, unfamiliar. You cannot see. You do not understand sight. "You are these new memories, the container for the old. You were created just like me. Perfect containers, one day to be used and then discarded. It is okay to be a toy, we are all toys here. We all exist, just pieces of us, just barely enough. We are the sacrifice."
His first memories, perhaps unsurprisingly, are of the feel of a controller between his hands. It's a beautiful feeling, like happiness and contentment. It's strange that he as a replica has never held a controller, but he can remember that the A button was so well used it stuck some times, and the R button clicked if you hit it too hard. He could remember what it felt like to sit for so long that your legs fell asleep, and your eyes were dry from sitting too close to the television.
Those were the happy memories, and there were so many of them, accompanied by a face. He loved that face, because it was family. Chel, the name came to him, floating forward like an embrace.
But with it came sadness. Sadness, and anger, and uncertainty. So many bad memories, so many bleak days. The dragging almost-there pain of getting a tattoo, so that the heaviness in his heart showed on his skin. Pain, pain, pain.
He was angry, bitter. His smiles were held on like sticky notes, gone with the softest of breezes.
They came so suddenly that it was painful. It was hard to hold so much bad on top of all the good, and it all piled up on top of itself until his emotions were stacked too tall, too precariously, and they were sure to fall over.
The White Queen fed and took what he'd just barely gained. These memories, while not his own, were all he had. He didn't want to lose them.
The last of his originals memories were ripped away, and he had a moment to reflect on how nice it was to have lived, for just a moment, if only through another's memories. But he'd served his purpose, and he was nothing once again.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:16 pm
Post 1 - SCIENCE - Canon Indy
Skarks are curious creatures. They were born from the fear of things watching in the swamp. The fear of being attacked by something unseen in the water. Of voices in the distance. Of venomous creatures. While born from fear, the existence they made for themselves was surprisingly happy, if strange from an outsiders perspective. They watch because they are curious. They attack because they love to test their strength. They use venom to feed their family. They sing to honor their dead.
Grief is a foreign emotion to a Skark. They may be sad when one of their number dies, but death is brief compared to the living memories they keep of those who've gone on. Real Grief. Real, all-encompassing, overwhelming Grief is alien to a Skark.
So, Canon had no defense against it.
It squeezed her like a vice from every angle, forcing and tearing memories from her that were integrated into the material of the cage Grief wove for herself. And each memory lost allowed the pressure to grow around her. She couldn't move! She couldn't speak! She was going to die! And what kind of death was this? Curled on the ground as though she wished to climb back into her egg.
And then, miraculously, it loosened. Canon surged to her feet, looking for an escape. There was a door! It opened! She tried to run to it, but stopped, stunned, when puppets poured out of the door. Their numbers seemed legion. She recognized some of them, and realized that around the cage, pairs of Players were meeting! Canons frazzled brain finally recognized that door, and what had been behind it!
She opened her mouth to call out, but a fist appeared in her peripheral vision, flying towards her. Just before it would have hit her, it froze! Canon turned to find herself, grinning at her! Almost immediately, elatedly, Canon returned the greeting, intending to hit, to seize the chance to spar with herself!
Instead, her replica caught her fist, and gently lowered it.
"I know everything. All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am you container!"
"Can't we spar?" Canon asked wistfully.
Her replica shook her head.
"I want to, but there isn't enough time."
Canon nodded. The loosening of the pressure, the replicas appearance. They hadn't defeated Grief, this was a rescue.
"Well met, SCIENCE." Canon said.
"Well met, Canon." SCIENCE replied. "Thank you!"
Canon's replica dropped her hand and ran a short distance away. Canon watched as she took a bomb out of her pocket.
"Catch, Canon!" SCIENCE called, and tossed it towards her.
Canon leaped upwards to catch it.
The bomb exploded.
The light took Canon away.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:17 pm
Post one - The Waxwing Slain (Taym)
Later, maybe, it would bother him that he did not, in what he was sure were his final seconds, reach for anyone, or even think of anyone besides himself. Instead, with gentle resignation that felt like relief, he thought: "Finally." Fiona was a whisper of disappointment, and then silence, but she was there and so he was not alone, not really, and he wished that he might have realized that this would be the case sooner.
The constant chasing of his thoughts was dimmed. In the hollow where panic had been there was only a blurry sensation of loss and grief, and he welcomed it without resentment. She took from him exactly the things that he had wanted for so long for someone to take.
And then, with a sound too quiet for what it was, with a feeling too small for what it represented, the cage broke, and he hated his own instincts for struggling free as unavoidably as sucking in a lungful of air after a too-long dive. In the moments of confusion that followed he fumbled unthinkingly back towards the place where the cage had been, fighting the sudden chaos, but a strong set of fingers closed around his wrist and he was pulled to face--himself.
"I know everything," the other said. "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am your container."
"Then you're me," he said, because he had always insisted, had always been sure, that a person was only the sum of their memories, and here he stood in front of exactly that, and yet he could not feel what that other Taym felt, and could not see what he saw.
A person is the sum of his memories.
"Yes. You're actually completely wrong, but yes. I'm here to take care of this for you."
"Let me," he said immediately: he begged. Let the other go. Let this Taym, feeling this, reeling in the gasps of withdrawn peace, crawl back into the arms of grief.
"I'm sorry," the other says, not unkindly. "But later on you'll be glad I was here. I know, you see, because I'm you." There was very suddenly a small, slender knife in the other's hand and Taym opened his mouth to beg again, before the words were eaten up and he crumpled over the hilt suddenly protruding from his ribs: twined in antlers and dangling feathers.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:17 pm
Post two - The Replica Taym
"I'm sorry," the other lies, not unkindly. "But later on you'll be glad I was here. I know, you see, because I'm you."
He crumples over the hilt suddenly protruding from his ribs: twined in antlers and dangling feathers.
"Thank you," he tells the body.
He stands and he remembers, he remembers everything, and he remembers that a person is the sum of the things they remember. He remembers telling Jordan, he remembers telling Fiona, he remembers telling himself: a person is a collection of memories. That's all.
Taym--
(you are a replica, she says, but he knows the truth, he knows who he is, because a person is the sum of the things he remembers; you are a replica, she says but he is Taym, who remembers his mother singing The Year of the Cat, the first time he smoked a cigarette, the rush and the crash, April guiding his fingers with hers to form the signs that would spell their daughter's name, a tiny ugly baby hand curled around his callused fingers, dying nameless and faceless, rebirth in a cold room beneath the ground, the voice of a long-dead girl in his ears, a grey place between worlds, who remembers every spilled drop of blood, who remembers, remembers, remembers--)
--turns back to the Queen. He steps forward, and he falls willingly, gratefully, into the forming cage.
He is Obadiah Thompson: he is Taym. He is a Hunter, he is by America's description a wreck of a man that a wiser person would not love half so well; he is a brother and was once perhaps a friend, and he is a father and he has always loved sacrifice, but sometimes could not tell the difference between that and wanton self-destruction. Here he knows: here at the end the difference becomes clear. He has been in pain for a long time, now, and even if the pain was self-inflicted he is ready for the pain to stop. He has wanted this for so long: has wanted an end, and has wanted to fulfill some greater purpose. The cage grows smaller and this is the end of your Legacy, she says, and it is good.
(Perhaps it is better to exist without ever having existed. )
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:27 pm
Post One: Death Solo
Finitay lay on the ground, broken – bleeding… already her skin was cold to the touch and although this was not her home she wondered if her body lay dead or near dead on the other side of this strange place. She felt nothing now, not in regards to pain. In a land full of white – the red that was pooling beneath her seemed almost vulgar in it’s vivid brightness. Fading in and out of consciousness, Fi startled as much as she could when the appearance of herself stood over here.
Looked exactly like her, in every way-shape-form. Then… she… spoke and was herself. Dazed, listening almost too much challenge to follow – when the staff she had worked so hard to came into view and was raised high about other-her’s head, Finitay reached a hand up to stop herself from killing herself.
Swing.
Everything went dark and the red-head’s eyes fluttered shut for the final time.
Game Over.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:35 pm
Post One - Wilson
All futures lead to the same end, he muses wryly as the mirrors shatter. Fragments tinkle musically as they clatter to the ground. A few manage to fall onto his face as he reawakens reluctantly. One eye cracks open, and before he can reach up to try to rub the exhaustion away the strings pulling on his joints force him back to his feet. Of course, he thinks as the wires keep him upright rather than listlessly tumble back down as plastic limbs and pieces. This is only a game. You can’t die in a game.
Of all the things he envisioned the White Queen to be, it’s certainly not this. He stumbles forward with half-lidded eyes, half-forced and half-willing. If I stay, will everything be okay? He can hear Alice’s voice softly echoing in his head. Yes, a clone replacement will do just nicely. At least he could cease to exist and let go all of the pain and suffering coiled in his heart. His story could finally end.
Let the Grief consume him from the inside out. The seed to his personal destruction had been planted long ago, beginning with a made-up planet called Vayperis and a lonely king with only his ship to ease the pain, and not even that is enough. Let the queen take all of the memories that made him ‘Wilson Hopkins.’ It was okay to let them unravel like a ragged toy with cut seams. He had had enough of nights filled with her peaceful, sleeping face and enough of whimsical moments where his disappointed, angry face flashed through his mind.
Oh Wilson, you traitor. He imagines Elliot’s voice, down to the exact rise and fall in pitch. You broke your promise again, and now your penance is to live. Eyes snap wide open, and suddenly he’s stretching an arm out toward the edges of the cage. No matter how tiring life was, he had to live, if only as punishment for breaking the most important promise of all. Tears slide down his face as he wonders if this is truly the end for him. He cannot disappear here. He holds back a choked sob. He has to continue living—
(to live and die in suffocating, heart-stopping despair is truly befitting of the king of grief)
Such a slow and physically painless death, but it did nothing to ease the heavy weight on his consciousness. There was suddenly so many things he realizes are left undone. Things to say. People to protect, try to protect.
Shattered fragments scatter around him once more when he realizes the cage is no more. He breathes in clean air, trying to throw away the Grief still clinging to him. He knows a part of it will always linger inside his heart, but he cannot help but try. Each breath is painful and each step is walking on needles, but he is alive and he will keep it that way for a while longer.
He blinks when familiar faces step out of the door. It takes him one second to see his raid party march through, weapons and colorful clothes brandished. It takes another to notice they are clones, and another to realize what Alice had actually meant all along—
His own replica takes one of his hands in his own. It’s gentle, fingers loosely wrapping around his neck to pull him forward while the replica takes a step toward the queen. “I know everything.” When he looks up, the replica is smiling knowingly, sadly.
“You are more than that.” The words manage to leave his lips, and the replica laughs quietly. He takes out his weapon, an exact replica down to the markings and scratches.
The replica feigns a smile—he knows it’s fake because he is staring at his own mask—“Thank you.”
The blade slides in easier than he thinks it should. He cannot feel metal slipping past his skin because he is only a puppet. This is only a game.
“Goodbye.”
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:36 pm
Post Two - R0GU3R4BB1T
What makes you, ‘you’? He cannot help but ponder the question as he drives the sickles deeper into his original’s flesh, but really—who is the original and who is the replica? They are both exactly the same inside the game, they are only puppets filled with numbers and binary and data. The only difference is the matter of creation and entrance.
He can remember he vague disappoint of learning his destiny, used and discarded like worn-out toys and outgrown lullabies. He can also remember the quiet acceptance, more the original than the vessel he began as. If he was meant to save someone else, save the world, he could live with death. The original would have agreed, right? To die for a life, a thousand lives, was a noble sacrifice indeed.
So why did his chest ache?
Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
I’m tired and I
I want to go to bed
Her hand tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He sinks deeper into bed with each raspy whisper of his mother’s voice. For only a moment, he can feel the fear gripping his small heart retract. The warmth of the nightlight by his bed gives him extra warmth as he buries himself beneath blankets. The words of his lullaby are still ringing in his ears as he falls asleep.
They are still ringing when he tastes salty tears on his palate. Water blurs the glowing screen of his phone as he plays the lullaby one more time. If he wishes hard enough, maybe the piano and quiet voice will drive away all of his darkest fears and anxieties just like in childhood, but prayers have a tendency to go unnoticed. He falls asleep with dried tears thinking, there is another world, there is a better world, well, there must be…
The piano’s melody is slow and melancholic. He wants to wonder what kind of mother gives such a depressing song to her own child? He lets himself smile wryly before his puppet strings pull. A flash of a golden star and pale purple eyes.
”Happy birthday.” A hand pulls her braid back and with surprising aesthetic taste, he attaches the hairclip by her ear. His fingers gently trace the curve of her ear as he takes in her everything.
I am irrevocably, deeply in love with you, there will never be another you. Not another Emmaline. He murmurs the words breathlessly against her forehead as he pulls her closer.
Each glancing memory is a sweet treat, but never quite fills him up like a savory meal. These flashbacks are not truly his, no matter how much love and sorrow and hate they give him because he is not the original. He has never met these faces in his brief life.
Just a copy. Just a vessel. He was more than that? Such a beautiful lie the original had told himself. If only he could tell himself the same thing. It would ease the cracks in his non-existing heart.
Shadows hang beneath his eyes as he confronts the White Queen; the door disappears, fragments floating into nothingness. He is tired. He is in pain, and despite the grief he does not want to be thrown away like a cheap ragdoll. Everything will be okay. This is my purpose. He will live on in my stea—
No. No. No. Let me live—
...
...
Shhhh, everything is okay. It's all okay.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:37 pm
Post 2 - Replica
Finitay lay on the ground, broken – bleeding… already her skin was cold to the touch and although this was not her home she wondered if her body lay dead or near dead on the other side of this strange place. She felt nothing now, not in regards to pain. In a land full of white – the red that was pooling beneath her seemed almost vulgar in it’s vivid brightness. Fading in and out of consciousness, Fi startled as much as she could when the appearance of herself stood over here.
Looked exactly like her, in every way-shape-form. Then… she… spoke and was herself. Dazed, listening almost too much challenge to follow – when the staff she had worked so hard to came into view and was raised high about other-her’s head, Finitay reached a hand up to stop herself from killing herself.
Swing.
Everything went dark and the red-head’s eyes fluttered shut for the final time.
Game Over.
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Eco-friendly Shapeshifter
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:38 pm
[DEATH SOLO] - Takeshi Mumei - Post 1
There was a massive rumbling, like the whole ground was going to explode and rip apart. All around the mirrors shattered. Glass rained from the sky and Takeshi had to cover his head in order not to be sliced to ribbons. When it settled, he carefully peaked out from his crouched position.
The Queen was fading, falling apart piece by piece. Excited at first, Takeshi felt his hope dashed when the armed thorns of the queen surrounded them. Crying out in terror, he tried to get away but it didn't matter. The cage was complete and escape was impossible.
As the cage continued to close, grief washed over Takeshi. It crushed him physically and spiritually. What was the point in struggle? Only sadness would remain in the end. Soon it would be like he had never existed.
This was the end.
SNAP
Takeshi didn't know what happened. One moment the grief was consuming him whole, the next there was an explosion that flung him bodily away from the Queen. Groaning softly, he pushed himself onto his hands and looked around.
A door. Behind the queen? Did someone come to save them? Well, there wasn't much time to wonder. Hundreds of clones poured from the door. As Takeshi stood slowly, his mind could hardly process what was happening. It stopped completely when a squadron of.. hims.. approached.
"Takeshi Mumei." The replica in front of him gave him a lopsided, sharp toothed grin. It tugged something deep in his soul, "I'm, we're, your containers. We know all your memories. Thank you, and goodbye."
Before he had a chance to ask what was happening, the replica sliced him in half.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 10:39 pm
[REPLICA POST] - HUNGRYhowl - Post 2
He watched calmly as the real version disappeared. Soon all the Replicas faced the Queen. Her cage began to form again, to take them into her being.
Takeshi sat in the corner of his small room, curled up. His stomach growled. It kept growling. It wouldn't stop. It hurt so bad. It hurt so bad. The hunger. THE HUNGER. He had to go and get food.
The replica closed its eyes and allowed the memory to wash away. The Hunger would be gone soon.
Soon....
The Queen consumed him. It was over.
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Eco-friendly Shapeshifter
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 11:36 pm
[DEATH SOLO] - Rosmiera VaughnRosy knew it was going to happen the moment she saw the mirrors shattered all around her and everyone else. Panic quickly took control of all her sense, causing her to cover her ear as she shook her head. This couldn't be happening, not again.
Her eyes kept searching for one boil more then anyone else. She couldn't lose him, not to this. Never to this, not after everything...
But the grief was just to much for her as she collapse to her knees, holding her chest as she actually tried to force herself to breathe. She could feel it wrapping around her, consuming her. She didn't want it to end like this, she finally had the one thing she ever wanted, and she was about to lose it.
All she could do was struggle against Grief consuming her when she was blinded by light. She had to blink a few times, trying to get her eyes to focus when she realized the door that seem close finally opened. She saw them, all come out, each one once again someone she knew.
She glance around, confused as to why they were suddenly alive when she saw herself standing there. She was dead still for a moment before she finally stood. She didn't say anything, she just look confused towards the puppet.
"I know everything," the replica says to you, in a way you find painfully familiar "All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am your container." Each replica easily finds their original. The words exchanged are brief.
Rosy nods slowly before she seem to relax, this wasn't the first time. And she was hoping it wasn't the last. Placing her hand over the ring, she close her eyes as she nods for a moment "Could you tell him...for me...please?" she swallows as she bites on her bottom lip "Tell him, that I would have waited for him no matter what. And if my brother was here...tell him I love him...and I never wanted this for him." she opens her eyes, giving a small smile to the puppet. "And do me a favor...tell Zel...I am never playing another video game...again." she tries to laugh, but it almost comes out in a weak sob.
She had more, but she ended it there. She could see there wasn't much time left. That this needed to end even if she didn't want it to be that way.
Giving a small nod, she close her eyes just as she saw herself snarl and lunge.
As she was torn....
She felt nothing...
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 11:36 pm
[DEATH SOLO] - DreamWatcher
She just stood there, watching for a moment even after herself was long gone. She wasn't sure how she felt, as her emotions were mixed.
Anger...
Sadness...
Peace...
Pride...
It was all inside her, trying to spill out as she shakes her head. She placed her hand to her curls, playing with the lock for a moment. He always played with them, whenever he had a moment. The memories one after another came to her, making her smile then frown.
Each person she found she wanted as a friend, she wanted to protect. She grown to care for them all, and one she grown to love. That was the emotion she was feeling.
"You should know better though than to try to con this con, it simply won't work out well for you. " He chuckled legs pressing into the snow as he hoisted them both up, arms locking around Rosy to pick her up with him. "As for being competitive, all you have to do is play with me...you know this." Or she should he grinned a bit tickled.
She love him, it was there in her memories. She held onto them and wanted nothing more then to make herself stronger just for him. But she was strong, even if she didn't know it.
"Darren, no matter what...I will always turn to you okay? Your my brother, and I love you." she hugs him close, scared that she would never get use to the first day at the school. Even if it meant she was away from home.
It faded only to return to the one person she trusted above all, because of what they had in common.
Tail puffing up, the ghoul frowned and motioned towards the stone as Rosy set it back down. "Though if you do ever lose it, or if someone takes it from you, let me know, okay? From one dreamwalker to another, I'd definitely help you get it back!"
Turning towards the white queen, she closed her eyes as another memory comes to her.
"Hah, I knew you found me irresistible but really Rosy? Hiding from me to keep from yourself....what a silly thing to do." Smirking he leaned forward and snapped one of her curls as she lay in the floor. A smug look took over as he stared at the ghoul, "why hide, we both have desires and the kiss wasn't horrible. " Pausing for effect he chuckled again and leaned back on the sofa, "instead of hiding from me, how about a deal?"
Finally all the memories seem to fade, leaving her with just that...memories. She could feel it, her life draining from her. She was dying...
But it didn't seem to matter to her, even if she was gone.
At least she would be safe...
And that was all that was meant to be.
I will let him know...how much you really care for him. I promise...
Lower her head, she place a hand over her heart as a smile slips across her lips.
She said nothing, as she simply vanished.
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 11:41 pm
Post 1 - FrozenFlower
Still stunned from her misdirected attack, the ghoul could hardly respond to the shift in the situation that happened around her. Silently, she watched the queen fade, thorny tendrils wrapping themselves around her and forming a cage - this was the end wasn't it?
A wave of sadness washed over her. Dreams were meant to be just dreams after all. The hope for the future, the glimpses of her future self she had seen from time to time in this strange land, they were all just a dream. A dream that will never be fulfilled, but at least she had seen what could have been. Was it sadder that way?
Darkness enveloped her, and the ghoul found herself drifting off to sleep... This would be the never-ending dream.
...
There was light. Her eyes flickered open. The army of replica puppets she had seen in that room came marching through - this was really the end wasn't it. The ghoul smiled faintly at her replica. Perhaps she might do a better job at being her than herself.
<Worry not> it- she spoke. <I am here to replace you.>
The ghoul nodded, resigned.
<I will take your place here>
The blade swung down and cut through her cleanly.
<Goodbye.>
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 11:41 pm
[ ROUND 2 REPLY TO BridgesBurn: HP 30 / 40 HP ] Having dodge most of the onslaught, Mitfael didn’t expect himself to turn around only to see a memory unfolding before him. The scene itself was sweet, very similar to what he could have expected in the human world but it wasn’t. However, the only reaction he ever gave was the narrow of his eyes, and a slight gasp as the mirror broke only to reveal the dreamer.
“ ---- “
A swear (up for your imagination), and a clash between blades. The momentum sends Mitfael onto the floor, not unscathed, but less damage than being impaled by another Royal Gryphon’s sword. He gave the other a brief glance before picking himself up and hurried off to deal with his own issues. Strangely enough, he kept chanting “don’t bother, not worth attacking, don’t bother, not worth revenge…”OOC My character's username: Mitfael My character's level: 27 Character's HP: 40/40 Current party: --- Current Guild: --- Location: Where applicable, if you are in another zone. Small IC description of character: MitfaelCharacter journal: [ Battle Log ] Kaefaux No problem! Don't worry about it! O u O He's there as fodder xDD
No DMG to you o v o b
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Posted: Fri Apr 04, 2014 11:50 pm
Post 1 - SugarPuss/Yvette
No. It couldn't be. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Not for her. Not for WalkingMeatShield whom she had met and fought alongside with. Wasn't this supposed to be a game in a dream that she could walk away from any time she wished to?
SugarPuss watched on in horror as one after another of the lifeless puppets that had fallen around her picked themselves up and came to life again, doomed to live on forever so long as their strings remained and connected them still to the White Queen. They had done their part and completed their quest as was required of them. The Red Queen was defeated. They were granted power as was manifested in the form of the various weapons that most of them now wielded. And still in the end it wasn't enough to grant them passage out of here?
What exactly was it that they all had fought so long and hard for?
Just as she was about to fall into despair with the Queen's last words, she heard a snap and then she saw them again. The puppets who were crafted into a perfect replica of her and many around her. She took a step back, unsure as to what she should make of this when the one who wore the same clothes and looked exactly like her came to grab her hands thereby preventing her escape.
"I know everything."
Huh? She stared hard at it, half wondering if she should listen to what it was about to say or dismiss it as yet another trick that the Queen or the Alice AI was trying to play on her now.
"All your memories, everything you've gained in this dream. I am your container."
Container? What exactly did it mean by that?
"Container?" She reiterated the term again. Out loud this time. "What do you mean by container?"
Her replica simply smiled, something akin to remorse in its gaze as it whipped out a weapon which, she found, was an identical one to the one that she had. It took a step towards her, offering no further explanation as it first thanked then bade her farewell before swinging its hammer at her. She felt no pain at all strangely when it ought to hurt as hell from the force with which it took to swing something of that size.
The last thing she saw was it lifting a hand to wave to her and then there was no more. She wished that she had a chance at least to apologise to WalkingMeatShield for not being able to fulfil the promise that she had made him back at the Tavern.
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