A theme fitting for the tale ♫: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tXMk-vk7ns
[Tada Rin Toshite - Starry Sky Logic (Kishida Kyoudan & The Akeboshi Rockets)]

Lyrics: http://www.faceorama.com/bluelight/kishidakyoudan/tadarintoshite.html

A story of magic.

Music Collection: https://mega.nz/#F!1BdBzIKZ!bhLzijfM3iyphpueDOKf0g

THREAD 1 >>65260
THREAD 2 >>65548
THREAD 3 >>65922
THREAD 4 >>66462

Previous Thread: >>64882

[32] "So, apparently I'm water-powered."
[32] "Ohh, by the way? Some redhead tried to murderize me and/or seduce me."

— - — - —

Picking it up, I found it to be both as soft as a newborn cake's butt and as goddamned cold as ice. Was a weird combo, to be honest. Was like it was somehow just pulled fresh from an oven that cooks by cooling somehow. Was left scratching my head more than a little over it, to be honest. Still, I got to relieving it of its papery threads, went about laying it bare before me. Au monchere. ...Or however you say it. Still, I'm being a bit silly now, so I figured I'd take a bite of the thing, finding an even greater shock to the system within.

The hell! The inside was piping hot!

Cold on the outside, hot on the inside and with fluffy, pink icing in a decoratively set pile on top. In the middle of all that, it was topped with further icing saying, 'BOO!' nestled into a neat little alcove among that pink. Although, that was more conjecture, 'cause I kiiiinda turned it into '300!' when I gave it a nibble. Proooobably should read cakey messages before I dig in, but y'know, hindsight still ain't something I have up front. Be kinda weird if I did, 'cause that'd be crotch sight or somethin' weird like that. Then again, she could just really freaking like Spartans, but I had a feeling it was nothing of the sort.

Lunch lady must have some sorta weird magical oven, though. For all its strangeness, and for all of its chilliness, the little cupcake was packed with enough sugar to make it considerable as some sorta confectionary A-bomb. S-bomb? I'd go with F-bomb if I could think up a good word for it. ...Fructose? Think that's somethin' sugary, but I'm not great with crap like that. I just know it's used a heck of a lot on commercials, to be honest.

Needless to say, it was delicious, though

Reworked.

… … …

—you rouse: another dreamless night.

You lie in bed a while. Eyes taken of nothing; mind perched on nothing. Absent sense; absent bearing.



You sneeze, and notice yourself.

With a token sniffle you rise from your pillow, leveraging neatly into a pair of bunny slippers at the bedside. Pink and white and fuzzy all, they were the first thing you’d bought yourself when you had finally moved out of that glorified basement of an interception base, resolving never again to suffer the indignity of cold floors in the morning. You throw on a bathrobe, too, garishly floral, and stuff your nightstand pistol into the left pocket, suppressor slotting neatly through the hole in the bottom stitching.

Yawning, you trod over to the washroom and, with a single look in the mirror, cede battle against the bird’s-nest tangle claiming to be your hair. You’ve no plans of meeting anybody today, anyway. Still, you go through the rest of your morning motions, letting the cool water wash away the last remnants of drowsiness.

Sunlight peers through sheer curtains, suffusing the cream-walled apartment with a pleasant morning glow. You detour through the kitchen to emerge back into the living room with cheese sandwich in hand—and, already, mouth—and a bottle of tea in the other, pouring some into a mug before settling thoroughly into the flaxen sofa amid laptop and television.

Cold barley tea. Whistler scrolling its start-up. OEF-A; OEF Iraq. Article 5. Article 9.

Same damn morning as ever.



Arbitrarily, you hold up your mug and regard it. You regard its emblazon: a black-and-gold flash, unassuming but for its referent. You remember when you wore that insignia on your shoulders for the first time. You remember the pride—as if all mankind’s will and spirit and hopes and dreams were embroidered into those patches and painstakingly ironed onto the sleeves of your beige rookie coveralls. You remember your first deployment.

You shift your gaze. Underneath the insignia, a date: 7-7-01. July 7th, 2001. The Avenger program’s first—and final—launch. You don’t

♫: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRj1EfwRnQI

The story of...

THREAD 1 >>65260
THREAD 2 >>65548
THREAD 3 >>65922

A theme fitting for the tale ♫: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BooDupEyp84

Winter is here, but Spring will come soon, right?

THREAD 1 >>65260
THREAD 2 >>65548

[x] You can’t really refuse this level of desperation. Looks like it’s tea time at Miss Margatroid’s home for all of you.

There’s no reason not to go with Miss Margatroid. She hasn’t proven herself to be dangerous in the slightest — and even if she is, you have Mori and Hina with you. Hina does seem hesitant, but you get the feeling that if she really didn’t want to have tea with Miss Margatroid, she would say it bluntly like she does everything else. Instead, she’s relying on you for some reason. It’s possible that she could be conflicted between following you or Miss Margatroid, since you had something for her to do first. If that’s the case, then there’s no reason for her to prioritize Hatate over anything else. Whatever damage could be done by the indignantly lazy crow tengu being in your apartment has likely already happened, and then some. You just want her out sometime today so you don’t have to sleep next to a shut-in birdbrain.

However, since you don’t feel like going back home to deal with Hatate yourself, you might as well accept Miss Margatroid’s invite— even if it was only out of politeness and/or desperation. It would be interesting to see how a magician lives, anyway. “I’d like to accept her invitation,” you tell Hina, “but I don’t know why you’re letting me decide. If you want to drink tea with her and chat, you should drink tea with her and chat. If not, then refuse.”

Hina wavers, glancing away from you. Maybe your direct approach lacks tact, but Hina acting so troubled over a pleading invitation is surprisingly ordinary for her. She didn’t seem like this at all when you invited her over. “I would not want to be a nuisance on any one or any household susceptible to misfortune,” she says. “However, I feel that ignoring an opportunity to converse with someone who shares my craft would be a mistake. If you are with me, PI, it should be enough of a buffer to prevent any calamity from befalling Miss Margatroid’s home.”

Wonderful, more misfortune talk. “A buffer? So the misfortune will only affect me, then? I can’t say I feel comfortable about that.”

Hina smiles. “That is why I have somet

A theme fitting for the tale ♫: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iA38mIYhXzo

The story of a library, an outsider, and a little pandemonium.

THREAD 1 >>65260

Our protagonist has restrictions and obligations to contend with for now, but soon enough he’ll have some freedom. Please read warmly.

++++++++

He awoke from a terrible and strange dream.

Followed by death, running from clouds of blood, and finding fantastic lights to guide him toward a crimson moon.

At the end, he was pretty sure he’d died.

But it was just a dream and now he was awake. He couldn’t shake an uncanny feeling gripping him, however.

That aside, physically, he now felt something similar to a blanket of weakened fire, enough to notice your being warmed but nothing too threatening all the same. It matched well with the scent of tea and dust in the air. Dust was actually thick in the air, apparently; it tickled his ears as it settled on his still body. The one neglected feeling was sound. Even a taste of iron lingered in his mouth, but wherever he currently was was—

Flip.

Not soundless.

“If you’re going to open your eyes,” spoke a vaguely raspy, feminine voice, “then look up.”

He opened his eyes while looking up. “Up” seemed limitless. He was certain he was indoors, but the ceiling of this place gave an impression of the cosmos. Actually, was it the cosmos? Space, inside? There weren’t any stars... perhaps.

“Close your eyes.”

He did.

... A faint whining noise could be heard.

“Do you hear that?”

“Yes. Am I naked?”

He felt naked.

“You aren’t naked.” There was a clink of cup to plate. “Do you want to be naked?”

“No?”

“Why are you asking? You don’t answer questions with questions.”

“Does that count?”

“‘Why are you asking?’”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“No?”

“If you want to keep your ears—” he heard a page turning “—you’ll use them to listen to me. I would recommend listening to me in general, if you’d like to be worth anything.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now look to

I couldn't help but mutter, "Just what have I gotten myself into...?" I had just left a bus whose driver spoke in unsettlingly cryptic messages, and now was left with a far more disturbing scene ahead. Looking back when I heard the bus drive off, I found a complete lack of any vehicle, bus or otherwise. Swallowing my heckles down like tiny frogs, I looked forward instead, to the aforementioned disturbing scene. What I saw wasn't pretty; a scene right out of a horror movie, in fact! Complete with its checklist of spooky stuff, too!

Seriously, if I had one, I'd bet money that everything around me would leave a full column of check-marks!

After all, there were tombstones, dead trees and a liberal smattering of seemingly pointless skulls in what looked like a freaking graveyard. And that was just the left! To the right, a cliff with a sheer drop of at least a hundred feet bottomed out with a jagged end in a sea of what I hoped wasn't freaking blood! And down the path, far in the distance, was a school that looked more like a haunted mansion rather than a place of learning! "Shoulda just freakin' said screw it and went back when I had the chance... I'd rather drop out than chance it." I got a chill up my spine at what all this could only lead to. "Feel like I'll just go missing or something if I stick around this pla—"

"Look out!" Huh?

I looked back just in time for a blonde to run me down on a bike. Last thing I saw was a pretty headbutt and no small number of stars.

When I came to, I found my bangs to be covering my entire face. That can't be right. "Ugh..." I nursed a fresh lump on my head, complaining, "The hell...?" Before me, I found that the blonde obstruction was actually a girl, and not my own hair. Wasn't expecting to see another blonde around. I mean, it could be worse, b

[x] Grab Marisa and hide until the flying woman is gone, then carry her to Kourindou.
-[x] Watch and listen to the flying woman if opportunity presents itself: if you get some indication she's not malevolent, first come out from hiding by yourself to ask what's going on.

There isn't much time to think. For the sake of survival, you have to assume this flying woman is a threat. Priority number one is Mori, so you grab her arm and pull her close so you can whisper to her. "Pick a spot to hide and don't move until I tell you to come out. Be absolutely silent. Understand?"

Thankfully, Mori isn't petty enough to have an attitude in this situation. She looks hesitant, but nods and retreats into the trees on the other side of the path. That's one blonde secure.

You look up to see what the flying woman is doing. She's floating around, still nearby but unaware of you or Marisa's location. Fortunately, she doesn't appear to be any sort of beast-related youkai with super-hearing. If that were the case, she wouldn't have had any problems finding Marisa in the first place.

You turn to the drug-addled witch, who is staring right at you in her rainbow daze. "Ah!" she cries, much like a child who doesn't know words. Then she screams with giddy mirth, scattering some birds in the trees above.

This other blonde isn't going to be so cooperative, it seems. You close the distance between the two of you in a flat second, snag her by the waist, and throw yourself into the same brush she first stumbled out of. You land face-down in the grass with Marisa right by your side, who lands on her back and starts giggling. You cusp your hand over her mouth, and surprisingly she offers no resistance — content to stare up at the canopy of trees with her starry eyes glazed over in foggy delight.

The animals and other creatures of the forest around you have gone quiet after Marisa's little outburst, so it's easy to hear the woman touch down on the path. "I know I heard her," she grumbles loudly. "Marisa! Just come out already!" she calls. "Give me the doll back and I won�