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63009 No. 63009
It was a terrible way of waking up.

I was shaken about, feeling like I was being battered from all directions. Even that summer storm that had caught us in the straits had been a gentle rocking in comparison. I kept my nerve and tried to get my bearings. The light was opalescent and blinded me as soon as I opened my eyes. I cringed but felt my breath coming back to me. In all the excitement I had barely noticed I wasn’t breathing. Luckily, the chaos died down quickly. The shaking stopped and the bright rainbow began growing duller and duller until I could begin to make out shadows and shapes in the distance.

My heart raced at my throat. I wasn’t in pain but it felt like I ought to take a moment to gather my wits. I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath. A nip of brandy would be the perfect thing to steady myself. Yes, my throat was rather parched. I believed that I still had a bottle hidden away in my kit somewhere.

The problem was, of course, my kit was nowhere to be found. In fact, I was nowhere to be found. Best I could recall I had been out for a ride. The memory of hacking on a country trail seemed both fresh but also strangely foreign. Cold stone and the dark of night should not follow from that.

When I finally got around to getting a good look at my surroundings, I found that I lay on a simple wooden table with little more than a large tunic protecting my modesty. I sat up. Moonlight crept in from a nearby window and the smell of perfumed oils and tinctures hung heavily in the air. Save for another small table whereupon a lamp, various flasks and colored stones rested, the room was otherwise barren.

Perhaps I’d had an accident, I reasoned. I had been found and taken in while unconscious. An traveler’s lodge must have been closer than the estate. I had seen plenty of such places in my travels. They often sported quaint rooms and construction made from usually a mixture of wood and stone. I felt satisfied with my conclusion and was glad I did not seem to be injured.

More importantly, I realized that I wasn’t alone. Off in a corner, half-hidden by shadow, a pair of women spoke to one another. One wore a pinafore dress and the other in a long gown reminiscent of the classical style. It followed that maybe I was injured after all – I could just barely make out the movement of lips but nothing was audible. I then cleared my throat and felt the vibrations in my neck but I couldn’t hear it in my ears. That action got the attention of one in the dress. Her lips moved as she seemed to say something else before coming on over to me.

Hair that approached crimson in its hue caught my gaze. Her rounded chin and dark eyes were striking features as well, but I felt that most men would also be transfixed by the intense contrast that the red created with her fair flesh. Though most definitely womanly in appearance, there was an air of girlishness about her best captured by the carefree smile she donned as she approached. She said something which I couldn’t make out. My look of helpless confusion must have been easy to pick up on as she followed up by tapping her hands softly on either ear and then pointing at me.

“I’m afraid I can’t hear you,” I probably said, nodding.

She nodded in turn and mimed for me to lay back down. I watched as she fiddled with the nearby flasks and poured some of their contents into a thin vial. The resulting combination was a clear blue and, amazingly, seemed to emit a soft glow. Understanding that she meant for me to drink it, I took the vial and stared at it for a moment. Perhaps she was some sort of doctor’s apprentice though I would have just as easily taken her for a clerk. The liquid tasted sharply metallic and revolted my humors.

“Can you hear me now?” she asked, her voice soft and carrying a friendly tone.

“Yes, I can!” I exclaimed. To think that such miraculous tonics existed! “I must thank you dearly for attending to me.”

“I’m afraid that I haven’t done much,” the woman said, taking the liberty of examining me from head to toe with her eyes. “I’m afraid that your arrival and condition was quite unexpected.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” I said solemnly. “I don’t quite recall the circumstances surrounding my arrival but I must thank you all the same. Perhaps you would grace me with the honor of knowing your name?”

“Ah,” her smile widened into a grin, affected with what I imagined was amusement. “I’m called Chloē, and you, mister-?”

I frowned as I tried to recall the answer. It was the kind of thing that one would normally never forget. Rather vexing not to be able to give a reply, truth be told.

It seemed that she understood the problem almost all at once. She gently placed her hand on my shoulder, wordlessly telling me that it did not matter.

“My apologies, Mlle. Chloé.”

“That’s a lovely take on my name,” she giggled, “your accent is quite exotic. Most people don’t bother with titles when addressing me.”

“Accent?” I asked, bewildered. I was speaking the same way that she was, far as I reckoned. Something had felt off since we had started speaking but I assumed it was due to the sudden restoration of my hearing. My voice felt my own but there was something else, like my words weren’t the ones my mouth was used to making.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Chloé said, “it’s just clear you’re not from these parts.”

“Yes,” I scrunched up my brow, recalling a detail that had been missing from my mind until just then, “I do suppose I have been traveling for the better part of a year and a half by now. These grand tours let you meet all sorts of fellows.” With a laugh, I added, “my apologies for misunderstanding, it seems that my mind is still in a slight state of disarray. If you don’t mind my asking, where exactly are we?”

“The Scarlet Estate,” she replied cheerily, “it’s just by the lake.”

“Oh, how dreadfully embarrassing, I thought I knew all of the local estates and households,” I said, recalling that I had made it a point to meet as many people as possible, “I’m afraid I have never heard of this surely esteemed family. And I owe a debt of gratitude to them for rescuing me.”

“No worries,” Chloé reassured me, “there’ll be plenty of time for pleasantries later on. At any rate, any thanks you have should go to my mistress,” she cocked her head to the side, indicating at the women in the gown, “She is the one that has kept you alive.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” I said, feeling like a fool, “my apologies for not acknowledging the other lady present.” I sat up, planning to stand up and acknowledge her properly. But my strength had left me.

“If you stand now, you risk a fainting spell,” the woman said calmly from a distance. “You must rest a while before attempting to exert yourself again. I’ll have my assistant escort you to your lodgings soon. I’ll take my leave now, it’s been a long evening.”

“Please wait a moment!” I interjected as she started for the door. She had come out of the shadow and it was then that I realized who she was. I clutched at my chest, grabbing the locket that I was sure had never left my neck for a moment. She stopped dead in her tracks, turning her head towards me but donning a look best described as saturnine. But that faded quickly and was replaced by cold indifference.

“...yes?” she asked quietly.

“If you’ll excuse my boldness, would you please come a little closer?”

She obliged silently. And then there was no doubt about it. Even in the dim light cast by the lamp, I was certain that it was her. Though her hair was longer, a different shade and adorned with ribbons either side as it came down in the front, her face was the same. My heart swelled up with joy.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked coolly after a few moments had passed.

“Don’t you remember me, my love?” I asked. Chloé gasped and quickly covered her mouth.

“I’m afraid not,” she replied flatly. “You have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Darling, please don’t toy with my heart so, you’ll drive me mad,” I said as I reached into my tunic and produced the locket. Fine silver chains joined at an end on a silver mass with golden engravings. Small emeralds were inlaid in a geometric pattern. It all held meaning and it protected a promise. A cameo, inspired by the classical and worked carefully, was held inside. It was my treasure, a memento from the woman who had so thoroughly stolen my heart. I opened the case as I had done countless times before and stared at the portrait within. There, in profile like a goddess of old, was carved the image of my beloved. Of the woman standing before me at arm’s length with a lack of interest in her eyes. “If this is a queer jape, please know it’s borders on cruelty.”

“…” she said nothing.

Chloé leaned in closely and examined the cameo. “What beautiful craftsmanship! Hm, Mistress Patchouli,” she spoke quietly but firmly, “this does look an awful lot like you...”

“A coincidence, that is all,” she was quick to dismiss the evidence. “I can’t possibly know this outsider. It is simply a quirk of the ritual. I will examine why we were unable to be wholly successful later.” She turned her back to us, offering little in ways of a proper goodbye, “I’ll be taking my leave now, I entrust his care to you.”

She closed herself off to any further engagement and exited the room swiftly. Chloé took pity on me, looking like a girl mourning at the end of one of the great tragic poems. “I’m certain there’s an explanation to all of this,” she tried but failed to stifle a sigh. It was contagious.

“She was my Helen...” I allowed myself to indulge in a melancholic sigh.

“Your lover’s name was Helen?” Chloé asked.

“No, no, it’s a reference to… well, it doesn’t matter,” I felt a pang of despair as I realized that I couldn’t recall her name either. To forget oneself was a forgivable sin, but to forget the woman for whom I had been ready to move heavens and earth for… I sighed again, caring little if she thought me glum.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how I can cheer you up,” Chloé frowned. I realized that I was marring her fair appearance by upsetting her. My getting sentimental wasn’t going to solve anything.

“I’m sorry, dear girl, I’m simply tired. Please smile for me and I shall revive as swiftly as is humanly possible. My word as a gentleman and scion of my family.”

“You’re rather charming,” she smiled almost instantly. Though I was putting on an act, it did help to see her be so earnest with her emotions. “I think we should give you a name in the meanwhile, just while you can’t remember your real one.”

“Splendid idea,” I said, forcing a smile. It wouldn’t do for me to mope in public and be uncouth towards her obvious efforts to be helpful. “Have you any suggestions?”

“Yes,” she laughed in a carefree manner, “I already thought one up. How about ‘Pan’?”

“It’s a bit presumptuous to be named after a god...” I started, feeling a bit confused as to why I would be compared that wildly amorous...

“Oh no, nothing like that,” she interrupted my thoughts with a carefree giggle, “I mean it as in bread. You know, because you seem to be so ‘upper crust’, get it?”

I couldn’t help but let out a hearty chuckle. That was something straight out of the peasant sense of logic I had often encountered in the various hamlets I had passed through. “Yes, if it’s because of that, I do suppose it’s as fine a name as any. But please don’t let my aristocratic background affect how you behave with me. No “master” or “lord” when talking to me, please. Even if your mistress was the one who engineered my treatment, I still owe you a debt for helping out.”

“Alright then, Pan. I don’t mind if you keep calling me mademoiselle, though! It has a sweet ring to it. Makes me feel like I could go to one of those fancy dances in a beautiful dress if I wanted to.”

“A lovely sight that would be,” I said, appreciating that her good spirit enhanced her physical beauty, “I’m sure you would have plenty of gentleman callers if you ever did.”

“Perish the thought!” she laughed, “I’m just a lowly servant. Besides, we don’t get many gentlemen around these parts. Things with sharp teeth, claws and even wings,” she paused and pointed at the velvety protrusions coming from the side of her head and her back for emphasis, “keep normal humans away.”

“Ah yes, I had thought it rude to stare at those earlier...” I admitted sheepishly. In the commotion following my waking I chose to ignore the things that seemed out of the normal. That included the mysterious symbols and inscriptions in Greek that adorned the table. Dreadful handwriting, could barely tell the taus from iotas.

“Stare all you like, I’m quite comfortable having them. Some might even find them endearing, don’t you agree?”

“Certainly is distinctive,” I said, wondering how such a thing was possible.

“I won’t feel offended if you ask more about me,” Chloé teased, looking coyly at me in a way only a woman confident in her charms could. “My mistress did say that she entrusted your care to me so it certainly is no bother,” she continued, “I’ll lead you to your chambers now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk on the way.”

“Very well then,” I nodded and attempted to stand. My legs threatened to buckle almost immediately but by force of willpower I managed to stay on my feet. Chloé watched patiently and silently, thinking perhaps that to offer help would offend my manly sensibilities. I smiled, signaling that all was well and she grabbed the lamp and began to lead the way. I followed slowly, feeling more alive than ever with my bare feet on the cold floor.

[] It would be best to humor her and allow her to be the sole center of attention.
[] Lovely as she was, I wished to know more about the estate and how I could best express my gratitude to the head of the household.
[] Perhaps it was more important to learn about the circumstances of my arrival and how her mistress was involved.
83 posts omitted. Last 50 shown. Expand all images
>> No. 63288
[X] It would be prudent to rest a while longer. Furthermore, she deserved a proper rest as well. Endeavor to move her to a more comfortable position without disturbing her sleep.

Goddamn, every update of this story really delivers. Well done.
>> No. 63289
[ze] It would be prudent to rest a while longer. Furthermore, she deserved a proper rest as well. Endeavor to move her to a more comfortable position without disturbing her sleep.

Holy fuck this is still alive? It's nice seeing this still here.
>> No. 63290
[X] It would be prudent to rest a while longer. Furthermore, she deserved a proper rest as well. Endeavor to move her to a more comfortable position without disturbing her sleep
>> No. 63291
[X] It would be prudent to rest a while longer. Furthermore, she deserved a proper rest as well. Endeavor to move her to a more comfortable position without disturbing her sleep.
>> No. 63292
[X] By holding on to that distinct feeling of still being alive, I could animate myself past fatigue. It was my top priority to find out what had happened and prevent it from occurring again. Wake her up.

She'll want to know we're okay. Also, ohmygoditsfinallyback
>> No. 63293
[X] It would be prudent to rest a while longer. Furthermore, she deserved a proper rest as well. Endeavor to move her to a more comfortable position without disturbing her sleep.

One good turn deserves another.
>> No. 63294
[x] It would be prudent to rest a while longer. Furthermore, she deserved a proper rest as well. Endeavor to move her to a more comfortable position without disturbing her sleep.

It lives!
>> No. 63295
[X] It would be prudent to rest a while longer. Furthermore, she deserved a proper rest as well. Endeavor to move her to a more comfortable position without disturbing her sleep.

So nice to see this story live again. Hopefully it will last all the way until completion.
>> No. 63296
[x] By holding on to that distinct feeling of still being alive, I could animate myself past fatigue. It was my top priority to find out what had happened and prevent it from occurring again. Wake her up.

I'll take a tide... and piss against it!
>> No. 63349
[X] It would be prudent to rest a while longer. Furthermore, she deserved a proper rest as well. Endeavor to move her to a more comfortable position without disturbing her sleep.

How can EVERY UPDATE deliver so much? This is the kind story I never knew I wanted so much until I had it.
>> No. 63350
>>63349
Please sage when voting on something that hasn't updated in months.
>> No. 63353
MORE LIKE AN INDIGO CARCASS AMIRITE?
>> No. 63360
File 149231481879.jpg - (50.14KB , 448x640 , magus in repose.jpg ) [iqdb]
63360
I shifted and swayed, uncertainty tightly wound around tendon and ligament, which in turn failed to power muscle and shift bone. The enervation was thorough. Candide, and his fool smile, relented to reality. I cultivated my own garden at the expense of everything else. Given the circumstances, it was as appropriate as it could have been.

The fruits harvested from this labor were not very sweet but were necessary. It was clear that I required more rest but it was a matter of probity that I import my consideration unto her. As if engaging in a razzia, I sailed towards my target, feeling that any less enthusiasm would doom the venture. I would not carry my prize back to the slave markets of Tripoli, but I would carry her to a more dignified position and grant her true respite.

Marisa wore a contented expression, a sharp contrast to her awkward positioning on the bed. She did not stir as I moved about, looking altogether too complacent to bother with anything but her rest. It was a queer display. Simultaneously, it was one that I understood only too well. Unbidden, another smile formed on my lips. A half-forgotten memory pushed its way to the fore of my mind.

On a large bed, a bed that was indeed similar in a multitude of ways. It was there… late in the evenings, after a full day of wandering, of roaming the grounds and keeping busy in the fashion others expected. After romp, study and all the other tasks. It was then and it was there, on my bed. Even before I snuffed the light for the evening, he already staked claim to his portion of the bed. My feelings be damned. When I retired, I would have to accommodate his whims instead of the other way around.

Mother… she found the behavior an amusing proof of our bond. Father, however, felt it was undignified to host him in my bed. If it were up to him, he would not allow him to even enter the house. And though Father tried to instruct the servants to do everything in their power to keep him out, my companion was determined and stubborn. He would snarl and act ill-tempered when confronted with either threat or bribe. To him, all that was important was to share my company. And he did, for most of his days, even when…

I winced, feeling a cold and sharp pain somewhere in the back of my head.

Diogenes

When recalled from the depths of my mind, the name produced a frisson. My heart pounded faster and for a second it seemed that it would explode. Instead, a tired sigh worked its way from the depths of my body, as if it was a forgone conclusion. I looked at Marisa again and relaxed, finding the association with the willful and impertinent hound at once melancholic. Despite it all, I felt like laughing. If I had stopped to reflect earlier, I would have found that our acquainting had followed a pattern familiar to those bygone days. She followed faithfully when coaxed, but was not afraid to project her own strong personality at others. She had come rather short of barking at the staff, like Diogenes sometimes did, but I suspected that was out of deference to myself more than lack of inspiration.

I did not even register the energy expenditure required as I held her in my arms. Being fatigued was an academic concern as hers was a weight I carried gladly. I offered her the same tenderness I would to my childhood companion. Whether she felt my intent in her sleep or simply was too tired to care, she nonetheless barely stirred as I moved her gently around the bed. I let her head rest on a pillow and her body on the correct axis. It was a mild evening, so I covered her gingerly with a single sheet before withdrawing back to my own spot. She became more human than hound as a result. It was then that I allowed myself to surrender.

With the endeavor successfully carried out, I desisted from further strain. Thin beads of sweat had formed on my brow and threatened to roll down the sides of my face. My breath came heavy through my throat to the extent that it gave me pause from thinking about anything extraneous. Letting my body calm itself down was all I cared to do. Any and all ambition was subsumed into the artificial premise I had set for myself – that rest was the most important thing I could do at that moment.

[This focus, this momentary whimsy, approached outright flippancy. So it seemed after possessing an appreciation for how more pieces of the whole come together. A sometime source of regret, I found. Opportunity presented itself twice in a single day and twice I ignored it. Further reflection at those junctures may have led to drastically different outcomes. So I say, so I chastise and so I try to convince myself even now. Because I must. As I set ink to paper now, inserting this message long after the other words on this page, my chest cannot help but tighten at the day’s recollection. Do I write this seeking exculpation for what follows hence and my role in shaping the situation? Or am I as Faust, conceited, and wish to simply to show that despite the alternatives there really was never any other path? I tire myself with these half-thoughts, these ramblings which yield no clarity. In this ornery state, all I wish for is peace and to remove all doubt.]

At some point I must have fallen asleep. The room was darker, the moon hidden behind clouds outside. The ceiling in my room was becoming a familiar sight. As irrational as it seemed to me, even then, it somehow helped convince me that I was still alive. More so than my heartbeat or my breathing. “Constancy comes from faith,” were words that escaped my lips. It was something I had heard before. Though where I had heard it, I could not say.

“So you are awake, good,” observed a nearly muted voice. I turned my head and narrowed my eyes at the dark figure standing beside my bed. She hesitated before speaking, looking for some sort of sign of recognition. I said nothing, figuring circumstances were exceptional if I was needed in the middle of the night. “I thought it best to bring the light in once you were awake. I didn’t wish to startle.”

I watched her retreat to the bedroom door and produce from the other side a lamp. “What do you need?” I asked, stopping before unnecessarily adding, ”that couldn’t wait until morning?”

“My apologies,” Sylvia reflectively touched the bridge of her spectacles with her free hand, fidgeting as it were. “I was told to summon you, posthaste.”

“And who am I to see?” I asked tersely, not appreciating the circuitous answer. It was then that I looked to the other side of the bed. The would-be canid was nowhere to be found. Creases in the mattress and a head-sized depression on a pillow were all the lingering bits of evidence that she had ever been there.

The maid was apologetic and meandered further, “I realize that a summons in the middle of the night is inconvenient and I wouldn’t dream of wanting to inconvenience you-”

“It’s a simple question,” I said, sitting up and getting out of bed, “the only ill-will you’ll find I have is if I’m not told who expects me and why.”

The maid nodded silently. She answered as she laid out my clothes for me, preempting my next move, “the chief maid asked me to rouse you and escort you for an audience.”

Her voice was flat, perhaps as if she were attempting to suppress her own emotions. I realized then that she, too, had been roused in the middle of the night. Her usually fastidiously-worn uniform looked slightly creased in place. This imperfection may have occurred due to haste, nervousness or a combination thereof. But I was not really interested in further speculation. Given the circumstances, her work hours were not an appropriate subject to ruminate upon. “What of my companion?” I asked.

“Companion?” she did not seem to understand the question as she turned away to let me put on trousers.

“You know, the girl I was with during the day,” I said, noting that I once again felt limber enough to move around at a decent pace.

“She remained by your side after...” her voice trailed, surely due to her uncertainty of what words to use. Sensing my impatience, she forwent the rest of the sentence, instead concluding, “no one kept track of her whereabouts once you were put to rest, my apologies.”

“I see,” I nodded, closing the last button and finally becoming presentable. Whatever residual fatigue I may have had was cast aside by inexplicable excitement. I checked myself in the mirror, noting that, superficially, I looked no worse for the wear. “I am ready.”

“I shall lead the way,” the maid nodded again, ushering me through the door. The corridors were brightly lit, with nearly every lamp and fixture hosting a a source of light. I could not help but feel that this display was for my benefit.

I did not wish to engage in idle chitchat, but it dawned upon me that some basic questions had not been answered. With the corridors long and empty, the art grand but of secondary concern, the logical thing would be to talk and prepare myself.

[] Could she say what this audience would entail? And the sudden urgency?
[] Would she share her account on what happened during lunch?
[] Most importantly, had Chloé or her mistress asked after me?
>> No. 63361
HOLY SHIT IT'S ALIVE

[x] Would she share her account on what happened during lunch?

I am so fucking lost. Someone explain what's going on.
>> No. 63362
[X] Would she share her account on what happened during lunch?

Wow, wasn't expecting this to update.
>> No. 63363
[X] Would she share her account on what happened during lunch?
>> No. 63364
[X] Would she share her account on what happened during lunch?

Right, time to reread so I don't get even more lost then I already was. Good to see this back!
>> No. 63365
[x] Could she say what this audience would entail? And the sudden urgency?

Unless I'm forgetting something, this guy was married to Chloe, which was Patchouli back when she was human-or someone who looked like her, considering she doesn't remember him at all.

Having arrived at the mansion in a less than stellar condition, he was allowed to remain as a guest and spent the entire day trying to reconcile Marisa with the inhuman mansion, while using the opportunity to learn about Gensokyo in general, Marisa in particular and do some light flirting on the side
>> No. 63367
>>63360
[] Could she say what this audience would entail? And the sudden urgency?
[] Would she share her account on what happened during lunch?
>> No. 63370
It is with a heavy heart that I must state that writing any more of this story now seems impossible. I waited weeks to see if the situation would change and it's become obvious that nothing will happen. I cannot justify the amount of time and effort it takes me to write if a good portion of the reader base does not seem to know what is happening and does nothing to remedy the condition. Voting when so plainly uninformed seems to me just a recipe for frustration and disaster for both you and I.

This is not meant to shift away any blame away from my own irregularity when writing. For that, I apologize sincerely. I really don't wish to invest so much time thinking of so many details and subtleties when even the broad strokes are lost upon the audience. This experience had been an investment for me and I had hoped it would have been the same for you. I soldiered on even when it was clear that most attachment, judged from comments and whatever little reasoning was made, was superficial. I wish you well regardless. And, again, apologies.
>> No. 63373
Teruyo, is that you?

Seriously now, it is unfortunate that you decided to quit, considering this is one of the best written stories in the site-if not THE best, but I guess it doesn't make sense to write if you don't get what you wanted from it.

To be honest, I thought that you weren't getting the attention such a good story deserved (just like other stories in the site) but I don't want to shift away attention from your irregular updates, as you yourself said.
I suppose it is better than this happened sooner rather than later though.

If I may add something: maybe, next time, you should wait to speak about investment until after you manage to get more than two updates in without people thinking you're dead; and, maybe, wait to talk about non-superficial attachments until you finish a single thread too.
>> No. 63374
>>63370
Stories that update at a glacial pace don't get paid much attention. There are too many others that update all the time for anon to bother with thinking out a slow-moving puzzle. Is it dumb that they won't just re-read the fucking story? Yes, but that's life on THP. You're not in everybody's face every week? You're not getting attention. It's a simple formula that's easy to disregard because of how stupid and unfair it sounds sometimes; it's a lot fairer than trying to make it in the print industry, of course.

I say this as somebody who's ragequit a story too.
>> No. 63376
>>63373
>I thought that you weren't getting the attention such a good story deserved
And what did you do about it? Not once did I see mention of this story in the recommendation thread, on IRC, in other threads or elsewhere. I say this as a more or less regular user of many years: this culture of apathy is toxic and has done much to harm this website.

> maybe, next time, you should wait to speak about investment until after you manage to get more than two updates in without people thinking you're dead; and, maybe, wait to talk about non-superficial attachments until you finish a single thread too.

Oh, you mean like the first several updates? There was never even the acknowledgement of anything set up in the narrative. If I wished to write a simple story without an audience, I would do so, and I wouldn't make it a CYOA. Regardless, I would have soldiered on if even one person had actually reread and changed their opinion accordingly. Or pointed out the inaccuracies in a post like >>63365 . Saying you don't know what you're doing and what's happening and voting regardless is insulting, at best.

>>63374
One would think that the sole story with any activity on what was once the most popular board on the site would at least merit something more than this unfortunate showing. At any rate, I am not complaining about the attention I didn't get but the attention I did get. Not just now but with the previous updates, too. It was clear that no one would ever speculate about anything or look beyond the end of their noses. I remind you: though few in absolute number of posts, we were already reaching novella length when you look at how large each update was. Surely that deserves some acknowledgement and reward by the reader.

I will not shirk away from my own failings but I will not pretend that this environment has been nurturing either. These things must be said because others will just continue to find an unengaged and distant public otherwise. It's fair to tell me that I expected too much and underperformed. But I'm not getting paid and this is not the publishing industry. Toiling to write thousands upon thousands of words replete with detail and a well thought out plot and characterizations is not an easy labor and so the payment must be made in effort if you enjoy the story. Otherwise, if nothing is to change in your actions or engagement, then you must admit to yourselves that this is why you will never be able to have nice things and why most stories will forever remain incomplete.
>> No. 63377
> I cannot justify the amount of time and effort it takes me to write if a good portion of the reader base does not seem to know what is happening and does nothing to remedy the condition.

There is nothing I can do to rememdy the situation. If it was a simple matter of re-reading you bet your ass I would have done it in a heartbeat. Either I'm too stupid to understand you (which is entirely possible, for I am not a smart man) or you've been too subtle for your own good.

> Not once did I see mention of this story in the recommendation thread, on IRC, in other threads or elsewhere.

The recommendation thread only sees activity when someone asks for something. The IRC has never once talked about writing any time I've been on it. You want attention, there's only one thing you can do: update.

> There was never even the acknowledgement of anything set up in the narrative.
> It was clear that no one would ever speculate about anything or look beyond the end of their noses.

You haven't given us much to speculate on. Everything I see is either so obvious it goes without saying, or flies right over my thick-skulled head. So I vote, and wait until I have enough pieces of the puzzle to make out a picture.

> Surely that deserves some acknowledgement and reward by the reader.

Yes. It does. And I'm genuinely sorry that you haven't had more feedback.

But I'm not a good writer. You can tell by this poorly-though-out rambling wall of text. I read an update, post a vote, and if I can, think up some witty comment or words of encouragement. I don't have the eloquence to write an essay about someone else's story. Believe me, if I could contribute anything of the kind to, say, Fell's story right now, I would.

> Otherwise, if nothing is to change in your actions or engagement, then you must admit to yourselves that this is why you will never be able to have nice things and why most stories will forever remain incomplete.

I don't know if you've noticed, but THP was, is, and probably always will be, toxic and sarcastic as fuck. We bitch about everything, all of the time. If you were expecting anything else when you started here, that's on you.

The fact that we're an ungrateful bunch of pricks is most definitely on us, but that's unfortunately not likely to change any time soon.
>> No. 63378
>>63376
I thought about I, but then decided I was being stupid because you got the average amount of voters per update. Perhaps even more.

>IRC
Give up on this. There is no story discussion in there and there never will be. The regulars make sure of that.
It isn't a bad place to read about Mobas though. Focus on "Read"

The rest of your post is a token admission to shortcomings followed by blaming everyone but you. Are you really the only writer in history that complains about this, while the rest feels just like you but abandon without a word? Is that honestly what you believe?

Perhaps it is best to stop chasing this particular windmill and realize that the number of voters, not the votes, is the only problem you were right about.
>> No. 63379
>>63376
Keep tilting at those windmills.
>> No. 63380
Take it easy, guys. I won't be replying beyond this post any longer unless it's about the actual story or writing. If you have anything you're curious about, ask away. Plot points, inspirations, stylistic choices, what some of the choices did, etc are all fair game. It may not be much, but perhaps whatever answers I can give you may serve to provide some closure. There was a lot of planning and time invested in this story so there's quite a few notes and rough drafts I can consult or share, if there's any interest in that too. A partial version of what would otherwise have been the next update also exists.

>>63377
>You haven't given us much to speculate on
Without even going into the subtle, was there truly nothing to be said about things like (in no particular order): the relationship to Patchouli, the reason for being in the mansion in the first place, the various characterizations, the narrative asides, the protagonist's goals and how to best achieve them? With 18000 words it wasn't worth the effort to even bring up any of that? If you tell me that those things are obvious and most people understood them intrinsically then, fine, I'll accept it. And I'll even admit, if it's the case, that I underestimated people. But even now my perception is that it's not quite so clear cut.

>If you were expecting anything else when you started here, that's on you.
Expect and hope are different things. I hoped that among the voters at least some people would go a little farther than the norm. Especially seeing that they heaped such honeyed praise here and there. Even now, I hoped that there would be a more reasonable reaction instead of something unhelpfully glib like >>63378. Rest assured, that I fully expected both this and these answers. Doesn't mean I can't keep hoping for something better.

>a token admission to shortcomings followed by blaming everyone but you
Really now, instead of acknowledging a problem people choose to poison the well further? Shame on you. I do not claim to speak for everyone else, just what I have observed, feel and predict. My not updating may be shit but casually dismissing the nuance that I argue does not invalidate it. It's incredible that even now, when there's nothing left to lose you're incapable of even meeting me part of the way. I do not dwell my own failings because there is no way or reason to defend them. Nor is there any point in wasting time in pointless self-flagellation when everyone already agrees on that point. So, naturally, I've spoken about other factors. Thus I once again put forward the question: It so impossible to admit that maybe, just maybe, expecting people to give you a little more than "I am so fucking lost" and voting anyways isn't so much to ask for? Or that when reading thousands upon thousands of words that presumably are enjoyed there tends to be something worth talking about?

But I've said my piece and I expect that nothing further will come from the effort. If you wish to be spiteful, so be it, but I hope that at least something positive can come from this. Even if it's only a bit more awareness at the power readers have to make or break a story. And how apathy and empty cynicism does no one any favors.
>> No. 63381
Maybe, just maybe, the voters being "uninformed" has nothing to do with the voters. Maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with how you write and unreasonably expect people to draw conclusions the same way you do.

"If you wish to be spiteful, so be it"

Wew lad, you started this shit and people genuinly replied. You were spiteful since the first ending post, blamed it on the few voters you did have and then doubled down on it. I dont what you are expecting when you come back from stasis with an attitude like that. Also I like that you ask people why they havent advertised this story anywhere else, why the fuck havent you then. Plainly, you seen to be a bit of an asshole. Good riddance.
>> No. 63382
>>63373
>Teruyo, is that you?
I'd like to believe Teruyo is a little more reasonable than this. This guy made no attempt to engage with us when he had a problem. How about a post going "ok guys I'm not satisfied with how this is going. Can you give me something to work with here? This is supposed to be interactive" before dropping the story completely with no warning? I'd have been happy to re-read and think a little harder about stuff if the author signaled that was something he was really looking for. You know, communication between writer and readers? You can't expect us to read your mind.

If you want to drop the story, that's fine, but don't try to pass the buck like that.
>> No. 63383
>>63376
(premise - I am not that amazing at english so expect some weird phrasing, and maybe some errors, And sorry for the wall, but I had to say this).

We've had this discussion many, many times here already. And, while I agree on the point that we can in fact be a lot more active than this, I believe that the truth here is in the middle.

>If I wished to write a simple story without an audience, I would do so, and I wouldn't make it a CYOA. Regardless, I would have soldiered on if even one person had actually reread and changed their opinion accordingly. Or pointed out the inaccuracies in a post like >>63365 . Saying you don't know what you're doing and what's happening and voting regardless is insulting, at best.
>>63377 has a point. Lots of people here losts interest in a story - and in speculating/talking about it too - if it takes a lot to update, because if you follow more stories (like me) you have to reread the whole thing everytime since you forget things. Also the fear of the author disappearing forever is high, blame all the past cases of great tales being left forever, mostly with no explanation or warning at all. People is reclutant to speak a lot about a story, and to affectionate to it, because they don't wanna be deluded anymore.
Demonstrate some continuity and people will talk more.
>There was never even the acknowledgement of anything set up in the narrative.
>It was clear that no one would ever speculate about anything or look beyond the end of their noses.
Now I'm speaking for myself - first of all, I agree with >>63377 - there's nothing much to speculate here, or to be more precise it's still too vague to try and put something together.
Also, there are lots of people here that - like me - are not that good at writing english (I can understand almost everything fine, but when it comes to writing it's a pain) and so even if I want to, it's hard to write a reasonment.
>IRC
Never gone there, but apparently they never talk about it according to others. I wanted to join, but now I've doubts. What's the point of that if they talk about other stuff?
>Suggestion thread
That discussion is basically a request thread. Or a 'I have these tastes, what do you suggest me to read?' thread. It should be used differently indeed.
>Surely that deserves some acknowledgement and reward by the reader.
>Otherwise, if nothing is to change in your actions or engagement, then you must admit to yourselves that this is why you will never be able to have nice things and why most stories will forever remain incomplete.
This is the point where I agree totally. The community here is really lazy in general, expecially when it comes to things like this. And I'm in the fault too, don't misjudge me. Readers should post more, share thoughts more and vote more, expecially outside of /th/.
But - I have to say it - it's not totally lost. I've seen nice conversations/speculations going on recently. We are still an active community: we could do a lot more, yes, and we're slow, yes. But we are active.

tl;dr audience should be more active, and authors should try to be more regular. And try to avoid drama, from both parts.

In conclusion, I hope you'll reconsider your decision. I enjoy this story, and I'll miss it if it stops here. Maybe you could split your updates into smaller ones, to let them come out more often. That's the formula that was used here originally, and it worked. Going with smaller updates lets you build the lore more carefully too, and to be regular. Go with constant updates and people will show more interest.

Cheers, and take it easy. We are making fictional story about fancy-wearing girls, afterall.
>> No. 63384
>>63383
Aand I fucked up the sage. Dammit.
>> No. 63386
>>63382
Ah just noticed this. Yep, this is indeed right.
You should've tried to communicate this lack of interactivity, before dropping the story. This comes like a total surprise, and it makes you look like you didn't care to try saving your story before dropping it.
At least that's what I get by that
>> No. 63387
File 149705224471.jpg - (27.01KB , 480x575 , deepest and most desperate desire.jpg ) [iqdb]
63387
Wait, so this is really Teruyo? Really?

Your writing skill is off the fucking roof. This story was excellent, in every sense of the word.

I assume full responsibility for not recommending it inside the site (I have no people outside that care about Touhou)

This is really the worst ending. Damn.
>> No. 63388
>>63376
>Regardless, I would have soldiered on if even one person had actually reread and changed their opinion accordingly. Or pointed out the inaccuracies in a post like >>63365

Your right, no one pointed out the inaccuracies in that post. You know why they didn't point out the inaccuracies in that post? Its because anon as a collective was completely lost, and that was our best attempt at figuring out what was going on. That post was our best attempt to get ourselves not lost.

You know who should have pointed out the inaccuracies in that post? YOU! If you noticed that anon was completely lost and barking up the wrong tree, why didn't you do something to fix it? Why didn't you try actually talking to us about these problems? You could have easily said, "Hey guys, you all look pretty lost and confused about things. Want me to write up a summary of whats happened so far and answer questions about what you're confused about?" Its not like this would have been some unthinkable unprecedented act. Writefags on this site post summaries and clarifications on their stories all the time.
>> No. 63389
Even though I said I wouldn't reply any more, it feels fundamentally unfair not to at least say something about the honest attempts at communication.

>I'd have been happy to re-read and think a little harder about stuff if the author signaled that was something he was really looking for.
It is not my place to tell you what to do. Either you do so spontaneously because you are happy to or the story doesn't deserve such effort. Telling you how you should behave when interacting with art (for lack of a better word) seems so thoroughly absurd.

>there's nothing much to speculate here
Like I said, I will accept that. With disappointment and a bruised ego as I thought that the things I pointed out in >>63380 were valid and enticing points of discussion. It does make me question all the time I spent trying to make those things interesting, honestly. But that's not your problem.

> Maybe you could split your updates into smaller ones, to let them come out more often.
Would not do that. The point was to offer choices when they actually mattered and not just make it busywork. The exception is the last update because I deliberately made the choice give a chance for people to catch up and remember what they were doing. We all see how that turned out.

>That post was our best attempt to get ourselves not lost.
It's funny to be accused of expecting the audience to be a mind reader when the post in question got no acknowledgement from other readers either. It's impossible to know if only the person who posted it believed that, if others had read and agreed or it was otherwise ignored. The only fact we can say with certainty is that no one replied to it either to agree or disagree.

>You know who should have pointed out the inaccuracies in that post? YOU!
It isn't my place to hold the hands of the audience. There is enough guidance and 4th-wall breaking things in the text of the updates themselves. The asides, the thoughts and (in the case of the last update) explicit warnings are all the information one would need from me.

>Why didn't you try actually talking to us about these problems?
Simple: I have seen how it goes on the rest of the site. Endless bitching on /blue/, people throwing tantrums in other story threads or these requests are simply ignored. I've observed that more often than not you get people who will be dismissive assholes who don't counter arguments and ignore what you're actually saying. You can see at least two posts of that nature here. And before you accuse me of doing that too, I've already conceded on the points of updates and simply disagree about how much management I need to do as a writer. And I mean no disrespect to anyone but those who are too set in their toxic ways to have a reasoned debate. It's not that I think that there is no wisdom in being more open in communications but that experiences all over the site show that you'll be ignored, at best, and told to just write and forget about the other stuff even if you're persistent. At times, it doesn't seem like people even realize how nonsensical some attitudes on this site are. For example: I've been told here that the recommendation thread is for people asking for specific types of stories. Yet that's not what the first post says nor does it correspond to the reality of many of the posts in that thread. And even now, you're saging posts on the only thread with any activity on this section of the site for no reason other than "tradition" I'm guessing. There is absolutely nothing wrong with promoting activity and, in the stories I do read, I never sage. Why should you unless there hasn't been activity there in years?

>it makes you look like you didn't care to try saving your story before dropping it
>If you want to drop the story, that's fine, but don't try to pass the buck like that.
I did try to save the story, which is why I kept updating even though it had become clear that I wasn't going to get the type of attention that I wanted. As judged by things (not) said in the previous updates. The last update was supposed to jog the memory of people, as well. Writing this story does mean a lot to me, given the ungodly amount of notes and time I've invested into it.

>I hope you'll reconsider your decision. I enjoy this story, and I'll miss it if it stops here.
You do get my heartfelt thanks. Not only for reading, but for making the effort to post. The same goes for anyone else with good intentions. I may disagree with some of what you're saying, but I will always wish you all the best. I'm not against reconsidering and writing more at all, but it would definitely crush my spirits if I spend dozens of hours writing and polishing thousands more words just to have the same thing happen again. The way I see it this likely boils down to a question of trust.

I want to end on a conciliatory note. be honest and act upon the sunken cost fallacy because it stings to let go entirely: If you do reread and then vote again the last choice, I promise that I will offer up at least up one more update. Do whatever you feel is right. If you feel there's nothing to say and I've done a terrible job at being interesting, then there's nothing to say. And I'll attempt to improve my delivery. But if you have something to say, the effort will not go unnoticed. With this promise, I'll wholly ignore previous results. Water under the bridge. We'll see how things progress after this and the next update. Another dose of honesty and a caveat: it's just two guys after that, it's not really worth it for me to keep on writing after that, either.
>> No. 63390
>>63389

> The point was to offer choices when they actually mattered and not just make it busywork.

You don't have to offer choices at the end of every post. Well, I know some people whine about it, but I sure don't mind.

>> Why didn't you try actually talking to us about these problems?

> wall o' text

A lot of authors (read: everyone but Teruyo) honestly don't mind if their readers just vote and nothing else. Suddenly learning that you think I'm not getting involved enough came way the heck out of left field.

But I'm not one of the old guard, and a simple request for comments would have gone down fine with me. And now you've said that, I'll do my best to lift my game.

> saging

Bumping a thread puts it front and center on the homepage, not just the individual boards. Doing that to a story that's been declared dropped gets people's hopes up and then promptly dashes them. But...

> If you do reread and then vote again the last choice, I promise that I will offer up at least up one more update.

My schedule is packed to the rafters this week, but I'll be re-reading this as soon as I have enough free time to sit down and give it my full attention.

I hope others do too, because this story is more than worth it.
>> No. 63391
>>63390
>everyone but Teruyo
I've done, like, a dozen stories and only two of them have demanded something besides just a vote. Unfair to bring me up. Especially when no similar demand has been made here.
>> No. 63392
>>63389
>Simple: I have seen how it goes on the rest of the site. Endless bitching on /blue/, people throwing tantrums in other story threads or these requests are simply ignored. I've observed that more often than not you get people who will be dismissive assholes who don't counter arguments and ignore what you're actually saying.
Assholes are everywhere. You can't expect none of them will end up here. Also, from experience on lots of chans usually the assholes are the one posting more often - since they have to say things even when it's not needed. So they seem to be a lot, but in fact they are probably just a few, but they post a lot.
Also: that is not a good reason to give up. Yes, because if you reason like this you have given up for me. If the userbase does not answer back immediately, poke at us. And if it doesn't work, do it again.
Important: I'm not saying you haven't tried, you did. It's this phase that bugged me.
>It isn't my place to hold the hands of the audience.
True, but not entirely. Anon is notorius for being totally obvious to the most evident things in the planet, lots of stories ended bad because of that. If subtle hints don't work, go for evident hints. Once or twice in a story is not that terrible, and if it helps the story from collapsing it's a great thing to do honestly.

All that aside, ok then. I will reread all this as soon as I have a bit of free time (probably on sunday) and I'll vote again. Too many stories have stopped before, I wanna see the end of this one.
Also, seconding what >>63390 says: you can do updates without choices, look at Yamame Has No Gods. It's all up to you, but it'll be nice I think.
>> No. 63398
Ok. After spending some time re-reading all this, time for some summary/theories. And the vote, of course. Again sorry for the wall, it's needed.

Basically, our MC is a guy that came into Gensokyo after losing his way on his horse under a thunderstorm (dream sequence - he also saw a hodeed figure before collapsing - ideas on identity?) and that Patchouli healed as Remilia granted him hospitality as a guest.

He has lost his memory, but he remembers some stuff. First of all, he is sure that Patchouli is his wife - although with slightly different looks - but she doesn't remember him at all. Then he remebers he had a hound, which used to sleep in bed with him. And having one suggests to me that his family was fairly rich, thing also confirmed by how big his bed - so probably his house - was, and by the fact that he owned a personal horse.

He is old-mannered, and very polite with girls - he kisses their hand, and calls them 'miss'. He has probably already assisted - or even performed - a duel before, seeing his behaviour when Meiling was gonna kick Marisa out. From the dream sequence it's clear that horses were the main form of transportation back in his time too.

>“I have spent a good portion of my life in rooms such as these,” I replied. “Country retreats, townhouses, estates, cathedrals and more of the sort are no strange things to me. I find that it usually institutions such as government offices or universities that try their hardest to seem the most majestic.”
He is familiar with very 'rich' looking mansions/places, he also hints that he has visited many important people during his life - so he has probably traveled a lot. He is also fine in places that has different manners than his, as he spends his time with Marisa trying to make her feel comfortable with the mansion (plus he almost doesn't wince when he sees Marisa fly or Chloe's and the fairies wings!). He thinks that wearing a hat is important for a man, another hint of him coming from a not recent timezone. He has a lot of knowledge with wine too, seeing how much he says about the one he drinks with Marisa.

Another proof that he has traveled a lot is the usage of this way of saying:
>I would not carry my prize back to the slave markets of Tripoli

And the hint that I liked the most: he mentions that the SDM lacks a gas illumination, but he doesn't mention electricity at all. This says a lot from the time this guy comes, since gas illumination (without electic one being common) period of time goes from 1815 to 1880, plus or minus.
Also, the fact that he claims Patchouli as his wife could mean that he comes from a time where Patchy was still out of Gensokyo, and married with him. No proofs until now, but still an option.

Another thing - he is probably not aware that he is in Japan, and that he is speaking japanese, seeing his lack of communication problems and how he doesn't say a thing when Marisa points out the lack of rice in the meal they eat together - and how it's 'weird' for her eating without rice.
Or he is Japanese. But I don't think so, seeing how he is used to western-style furniture.

Finally:
>The death that was and the death that would be. Haphazard arrays of images flashed, illuminating the fog for the briefest of instants. The light did little to explain things and I felt as helpless as I had those first few nights after… after…
>Our tears, so casually flowing from our eyes…
Thoughts on this? It's probably something related to someone really important to him - maybe Patchouli in his time? Something happened that made her 'disappear' and come to Gensokyo leaving him alone? Don't know, just throwing some ideas out.

Ok, without further ado, I'll vote:

[X] Would she share her account on what happened during lunch?

Wanna hear what she thinks of this.
Also I have to say that there are indeed things to think about here. But I also have to point out that - at least for me - your writing is complicated, thus hard to read. Not your fault, it's me not being great at English. But it's still a reason right?

Hope to see this revived, it has a lot of potential.
>> No. 63399
Finally got unbusy enough to re-reading this.

First thoughts: I don't got half the vocabulary for this thing. The prose is excellent, and perfectly fits the story, but short of looking up every eighth word in a dictionary there's going to be shit flying over my head left right and center no matter what I do. This has nothing to do with the author and everything to do with me being a highschool dropout, but I hope it explains my lack of insight.

Nonetheless, there are two things I noticed here, that also caught my attention the first time around but I didn't comment on. Because seriously, if someone as thick as me can see them they must stick out like sore thumbs. The first is this:

> I refilled both our glasses with more wine when a powerful rumble shook everything. Immediately, an intense feeling of dreadful panic began to crystallize in both my gut and mind. Even as Marisa sprang to her feet and began trying to make sense of things, a wave of cold washed over me. The sharp pain I had felt once again invaded my chest and spread rapidly through most of my body.

Obviously something just blew, and since Marisa noticed it's not just something in Pan's head. Given the location, the only culprit I can think of is Patchouli. We still don't know what she was up to that resulted in Pan getting the Time Warp treatment, but I'd be willing to bet this has something to do with both of them.

Shortly after this, Sakuya demands Pan's presence. In the middle of the night. Whatever Patchy was up to, I have a sinking feeling it didn't go well.

The second is this:

> [This focus, this momentary whimsy, approached outright flippancy. So it seemed after possessing an appreciation for how more pieces of the whole come together. A sometime source of regret, I found. Opportunity presented itself twice in a single day and twice I ignored it. Further reflection at those junctures may have led to drastically different outcomes. So I say, so I chastise and so I try to convince myself even now. Because I must. As I set ink to paper now, inserting this message long after the other words on this page, my chest cannot help but tighten at the day’s recollection. Do I write this seeking exculpation for what follows hence and my role in shaping the situation? Or am I as Faust, conceited, and wish to simply to show that despite the alternatives there really was never any other path? I tire myself with these half-thoughts, these ramblings which yield no clarity. In this ornery state, all I wish for is peace and to remove all doubt.]

Subtle as a wad of C4. Whatever shit's about to go down, Marisa is involved. We know she came here to steal borrow some reading material, and we know she recently vanished. Logic suggests she went to get what she came for and got in over her head.

Beyond that, the only thing I've got is that we're in for a helluva ride if this thing gets rolling again.

>>63398

> the fact that he owned a personal horse

I'm nitpicking, but since I have nothing else to offer, this is not quite true:

> He had been loaned to me a few weeks prior and had been my steadfast companion as I spent my days exploring the countryside before carousing with my peers at night.

> This says a lot from the time this guy comes, since gas illumination (without electic one being common) period of time goes from 1815 to 1880, plus or minus.

See, this is the sort of shit I don't have the education for. I'd never have even thought of that.

> Another thing - he is probably not aware that he is in Japan, and that he is speaking japanese, seeing his lack of communication problems and how he doesn't say a thing when Marisa points out the lack of rice in the meal they eat together - and how it's 'weird' for her eating without rice.
Or he is Japanese. But I don't think so, seeing how he is used to western-style furniture.

If the Mansion came from somewhere in the British Isles, and Marisa is used to raiding visiting them and reading books "in weird languages with weird letters", he may very well still be speaking English. I can't name names, but I've seen other authors do this, so it's a possibility.

On the other hand, scratch that theory:

> My voice felt my own but there was something else, like my words weren’t the ones my mouth was used to making.

Anyway, voting.

> [] Could she say what this audience would entail? And the sudden urgency?

I have a hunch we're not going to get a straight answer, for one reason or another.

> [] Most importantly, had Chloé or her mistress asked after me?

Probably not going to tell us much, if my theory is accurate, and feels a bit egotistical.

[x] Would she share her account on what happened during lunch?

Most likely to hit paydirt, even if she's out of the loop, or worse, been ordered not to talk.
>> No. 63400
>>63399
Fucked up my formatting like I fuck up everything else. If I fail my sage on this I'm gonna go [x] LAKE.
>> No. 63401
As promised, I'll put up at least the next part at some point. I'll wait until the end of the week before attempting to write in case there are any others who have yet to reread and vote and wish to do so. As I said before: what happens after the next update will ultimately depend on how many people turn out then. I wish to make sure expectations are clear from now on.

>>63398
>>63399
I wanted to address a shared sentiment in your posts and state that I am grateful for your effort despite the difficulty of language and the prose. I haven't tried to make it purposefully difficult, it's just something that is the way it is because of the protagonist and his surroundings. There is a certain difficulty to the text and if ever something is unclear or hard to decipher: there is no shame in asking for a clarification from me. And no matter how silly or inadequate you believe your thoughts might be, know that I appreciate them all the same. So there's never any need for holding back. As for the other things commented upon? That's more for the benefit of your peers right now.
>> No. 63403
>>63400

Thanks for the nostalgia flashback. LAKE END was something I'd though long since forgotten on this website.
>> No. 63405
Sorry for taking so long but it's been a rough month or so. It takes me a long time to write and I haven't had the time to concentrate on writing. I haven't forgotten about this and will try to finish up soon.
>> No. 63406
>>63405

I'd be a big fat hypocrite if I held any of that against you.

Waiting warmly.

>>63403

Thanks for proving I'm not the only one who remembers.
>> No. 63407
> failed to sage

Lovely weather for a dip...
>> No. 63408
>>63405
Same as post above. Waiting for it.
>> No. 63496
So I get this will never continue?
>> No. 63499
Absolutely shameless bump.

I wanna see this story going. I've just finished rereading it, and I am even more sure it'll be a nice ride.

Are you still here, Quiet Magician?
>> No. 63599
Ehm, any news?
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