She stared into my eyes with naked desire. There was no stopping her.

It had begun with a sigh, world-weary yet empathetic. Just moments earlier we had been happily chatting away to while away the night. Drinks were a matter of course. The intimacy of her boudoir was disarming; the plush cushions threatened to suck one into a state of complacency while the red velvet material offered an almost ticklish kind of stimulation. The evenings we spent together all invariably became casual and relaxed.

Sakuya had joined us that night—a sign of things to come in retrospect. She had happily let both her mistress and I do the lion’s share of the talking and only interjected every now and again mostly to curb the vampire’s rhetorical excesses. For the most part she had spent the evening observing, nodding silently and occasionally smiling. Whenever she did engage in a subject for more than a few sentences it wasn’t the abstract past that Remilia was so fond of talking about but rather about the more recent events of the days and weeks. In other words: largely the time we spent together.

We all sat apart in a circle of chairs and furniture. I was on the narrow sofa while Remilia and Sakuya sat on chairs opposite one another. I had declined the offer of another drink because I already felt that my wits strained. There was no need to try them further and risk a slip of the tongue. I told myself that I took pride in my dependable composure. Sakuya had one of her few drinks of the night, staring at the melting ice cube intently.

“It needs to be now,” Remilia said after sighing. There was no doubt that she was drunker than the rest of us. She had had a few more than everyone else. Still, she seemed to sober up fairly quickly as she became serious.

I nodded, understanding at once what she meant.

Wordlessly, she put down her glass and stood up. Remilia managed to keep her poise as she took the few steps to where I was and sat down next to me. There was limited space on the dainty sofa. Not that it mattered. Remilia overlapped me in places, her arms swinging over my shoulder and a leg straddling my own. It wasn’t just the up

Kagerou crouched near the mermaid, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. Not exactly an easy feat when your nails are as sharp as claws. She brushed away the hair from her face and kept at a quieter, flatter tone in order not to upset the mermaid any further. “There’s no reason we can’t be nice to each other, right?” she started clumsily, not quite getting my advice. I held my tongue, as it were, for a while longer.

“I am nice to everyone,” the blue-haired girl mumbled and avoided eye contact. A more courageous person might have expressed their offense more starkly or, at least, been able to meet Kagerou’s gaze. But she was intimidated and unsure of what to say or do. In other words, she was unlikely to talk much and definitely wouldn’t share her secret.

“Part of being nice is trusting that the other person will also be nice,” the werewolf said, not really making a very logical case. She lacked the charisma and magnetism to get away with improvisation. Still, the way she said it was a marked improvement from earlier. She actually sounded empathetic, if not actually respectful of the mermaid’s mental state. “I’m not really good at making friends,” she confessed, making a little joke at her own expense, “and I think you just saw why. That wasn’t very endearing, was it?”

“It was scary,” the mermaid blurted out. Having said the first thought that crossed her mind, she seemed to get embarrassed by the admission and covered her mouth with her hands. She mumbled a quick apology, “sorry, that was rude of me.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Kagerou chuckled and was as unsubtle as could be, “honesty is also part of trust. And friendship.”

“Yes, we’re true friends because I freely tell you what I think all the time, wolfy” I said, because… well, I couldn’t really help myself. I knew she couldn’t say anything either or betray her emotions towards me—the mermaid would pick up on something that obvious. “Get to the point,” I told her, “you can keep lying about being an enlightened individual in front of the mirror later.”

You are:

[] Carmine Scarlet

[] Other

And yesterday you’ve learnt that you still have family.

Today and the last day you’ve spent packing up anything you could reasonably bring and preparing yourself to meet the sisters you thought you’d never meet.

Sitting at your laptop you quickly turn on the camera and take a look at yourself, you’ve lived for-

Choose your age: 340-140

Years and you look like a young

One day at the scene of a fire, the Derp found the perfect Wars. That was the day it became Derp Wars.

Look at this shameless self-promotion! Look at it! http://lowenly.wordpress.com/

That is not dead which can eternal lie about whether or not it’s dead.

Is this the longest-running-yet-still-active unfinished story yet?

Now with the same amount of Koishi it always had!

~

As the gate closed behind her, Kagerou paused and let out the smallest of sighs. She stole a quick glance backwards and found that the gate guard was still smiling, watching her with with arms akimbo. The guard nodded at her, her green cap slumping forward a little as a result of the gesture, as if to urge her on in a friendly manner to keep on moving forward. Kagerou obliged and steadied her resolve before starting again towards the building ahead.

The path ahead wasn’t very long but there was plenty to distract a wandering eye—chiefly the large hedges and flowerbeds that were in full bloom. Kagerou looked somewhat amazed at the variety of flowers and the many different colors on display. Some of these floral patches had been arranged in such a way as to make a pattern. Most were simple geometric shapes or checkerboard design but there seemed to be a few that were meant to be objects or animals. Those were further away by a large fountain so it wasn’t easy to discern at a glance. At any rate, the smell was positively lovely and a soft breeze carried the delicate perfume quite well.

If she had any desire to stop and look (or smell) closer, she hid it well. Her gaze stopped wandering as she neared the doorway and instead she looked expectantly at the dark and thick wooden doors. She had just reached for a grotesquely heavy-looking brass knocker when the doors began to swing open with a groan. A pair of small girls dressed in smart short-sleeved uniforms stood at either end; fairies dressed in the typical warm-weather uniforms of the Scarlet Mansion greeted her with a smile.

“We’ve been expecting you,” one of the fairies said and beckoned her in with a casual wave of her hand.

“Yeah,” the other fairy added, “follow Ana here and she’ll take you to the Mistress.”

Kagerou nodded and began to follow the fairy. She chose to stay silent and slyly looked around at the luxurious atmosphere within the manor. Lots of polished surfaces and dense and expensive-looking bits of wood and stone were decorated with everything from simple patterns to frescoes and carpet. She saw grand staircases and equally imposing corridors wit

[x] Straight to the underground! Resolve the problem directly!

You might as well go straight to the underground! But the problem is how? “So. Flan,” you address her. “How exactly we are going to the underground?”

She just shrugs. Welp. This incident may be more complex than you think.

“Well, well, well...” Suika points to a very conspicuous well in the corner of the shrine grounds. “You could always take the well down. Reimu and I made an elevator of sorts. Well, it’s more like a hellevator. Hahahaha! Hah. Ha... anyway. We made it in case another incident like this ever happened.”

“As expected of Reimu!” She’s an experienced incident investigator. She would know. She’s prepared!

“...All Reimu did was tell me to dig and somehow it worked out.” Suika shrugs. “So, yeah. Just hop in the well and get on top of the bucket and it’ll take ya to the underworld.”

You hop on and squeeze inside, sitting on the edge of the bucket. Flandre sits on the other edge. “It’s... kinda cramped.”

“If Reimu can fit, you two definitely can! Not that I’m saying she’s fat.” She snickers to herself. “Oh, also. A note of advice. People may seem scary in the underground, but you can tell what kinda person they are by the look in their eye!”

[x] Get Mystia to sign a contract.

Remilia scratched her fang. An opportunity like this was begging to be taken advantage of, but she would have to be careful. Fate was monstrously unpredictable. She liked to give the impression that she could bend it to her will, but in actuality she was little more than a secretary, sending it the occasional note that it may or may not pay attention to. When it did, it was under no obligation to work in her benefit, and if there was anything that brought down fate's ire, it was someone trying to game the system to their advantage.

She could do something minor, though. Fate didn't seem to mind minor pokes and nudges, if they were spaced out appropriately.

"Sakuya, my fate-papers and fate-pen."

"Yes, milady."

A hidden pouch in Sakuya's apron held the paper Remilia reserved for fate contracts. There was nothing exceptional about it, but it helped make the whole affair feel more special. Remilia took the papers and walked back towards Mystia.

"Food's up," Mystia chirped, and presented them with two bowls of grilled eels over rice, chopsticks sticking out of them. Remilia thanked her own brilliance that she spent so much time farting around in China and Japan, so she knew how to use these effectively. Sakuya was halfway to scooping up food with her hands when she saw Remilia pinch the chopsticks between her fingers and followed suit.

Remilia took a bite. It wasn't bad at all. There was certainly a unique terroir from the food around here.

>[x] ...I got nothing. Help me, Clover!

I stop mid-sip and rack my brain, coming up empty. Damn it, Applepicker, think.

"...I have no idea," I admit. "But--but why is it my job anyway? I mean--"

"Because you're the man!" Clover insists, thumping the table with her palm. "You're supposed to be all seizing initiative and being bold! In charge and all that!"

"...Clover, that's stupid. Really, really stupid. Have you seen her?" I ask pointedly. "Do you really think I'm in charge of ... anything?"

"Excuses!" Clover shouts, sitting on the edge of the table beside me. "And besides, it's not that you're a man--"

"Not what you said," I grumble.

"--It's that you're her man." She pokes a finger at my chest (right in the geta-shaped bruise, though I'm too drunk to feel). "You don't think a dragon likes being swept off her feet?"

Does anyone have a pdf or epub file of SDM:LA?

I was about to begin to make my own, but realized it could save me a lot of effort if someone else had a copy and was willing to share

You don't “startle” awake. Instead, your eyes open slowly, as if coming awake from a good dream that you don't want to leave. Your body feels heavy, somehow, even with all the power coursing through it. Your breath is clouding in the air in front of you, which is also odd, since you don't remember the last time you even had breath. Everything else, though, is mostly familiar. Midnight blue robes with gold trim, check, green hair (with bangs dangling in front of your eyes, annoyingly), check, legs that weren't supposed to be there, check. Least surprising of this whole mess is that you're occupying a coffin that's obviously not buried anymore. The lid is embedded in the ground some twenty feet away, and must have been blown off to have gone that far.

The resulting question has an answer, but that answer is just another question. Whoever resurrected you is likely the one who forcibly blew the lid off of your coffin, but who is that? What business do they have resurrecting one of Gensokyo's strongest wizards? Pushing those questions out of your mind for now since you can't answer them yet, you conjure up a mirror and take in your appearance. Your face is a lot younger than you remember, and your hair is similarly shorter than you remember (what used to run down to your upper back now only reaches to the middle of your neck), though at least that is explained by the pile of hair at the foot of the coffin. Your eyes, at least, are still the vivid green you remember.

Once you've gathered yourself, you finally step out of the coffin, using magic to brace yourself until you get used to walking again. You're missing your hat and your staff, but that's easy to fix. You don't remember exactly when (only that it was at least a hundred years ago), but you'd enchanted your staff so that you could conjure it whenever you wanted. So, you do just that. Fifteen seconds and one outstretched hand later, you have your staff. You admire the golden crescent moon that adorns the tip before finally turning to address the last anomaly: it should be the middle of su