File 127692224677.png - (341.09KB,
1000x607 , brand new day.png) [iqdb]
“Here you go, sir! I hope you enjoy it!”
“Ah, thanks. It looks great.”
“Would you like anything else? Something to drink with that, perhaps?”
“Actually, now that you mention it...”
“I think I would like to have...”
“E-eh? Sir, what do you m-mea-KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! “Thanks for the food~!”
- - - - - - - - - -
With a start and a *thunk* you wake from your slumber, knocking the back of your head against the trunk of the tree you were resting against. Feeling around to make sure there isn't a bump, you silently curse whatever mystical force is responsible for interrupting your dreams just before they reach the good parts.
“Every time. Every freaking time.”
Such a shame, too. While you find yourself already having difficulty remembering every single detail, some traits still linger in your mind. That hair, that voice, those little wings...ah, yes, she definitely seemed like a cute one. You can't help but think she seemed almost familiar, but you just can't quite put your finger on who it could be.
As if sharing in your sadness, a light breeze wafts across your face, and for a moment you swear you could almost hear weeping carried upon it. Truly, even the elements know your pain.
After a round of stretching to further wake yourself up, you take stock of your surroundings and situation. Judging by the trees all around you, not to mention the one you had been resting against, it would appear you've spent (and survived) yet another night in the great outdoors. Good for you!
While you had been repeatedly warned about the dangers of doing so, you find nothing can really beat sleeping outside and under the stars.
“Looks like it's going to be another beautiful day.”
Indeed it does! The sun peeking up on the horizon, that crisp morning air, and clear skies as far as the eye can see. If ever there was a day for getting things done, this was most certainly it. Now, if only you could remember what it was you had to do today. You're sure there was something, but your mind keeps coming up blank.
“Oh well, I'm sure it will come back to me if it was anything important.”
Feeling satisfied that you're not forgetting anything exceptionally critical, you gather your things and are about to head off to find something to eat when you spot something in the sky.
What could it be?
Nah, it looks like it's just that witch from the forest. Judging from her high speed and what vaguely appears to be a large bag slung over her shoulder, she's probably on her way home from a night of relieving some poor soul of their belongings. As she zips overhead, you have half a mind to call out to her, but find that thought interrupted by the sudden sensation of something slamming into your face, and the pain that goes along with it.
“OW! Sonofa-! ...eh?”
As your pain and shock subside, you examine the thing that had seemingly fallen from the sky and landed right in your hands. Or, rather, fallen from the sky, landed on your face, fell from your face, and then landed right in your hands. But that doesn't sound nearly as good, even if it is a more accurate account of what happened.
Upon careful examination, you believe this object to be some sort of box.
Six sides. Rectangular shape.
Yep, this is almost certainly a box of some sort, with the seal-like things covering it clearly being seals of some kind.
Something about it seems...ominous.
Well, it's probably nothing to worry about.
What matters now is what you're going to do with it.
>>119283 No, this is a box. A cube shape. Six sides, like he said (Marisa's mini-hakkero has eight sides and is not particularly box-shaped).
I am pleased as punch to see the writer of Don't Read This! Finally giving it a go. Good luck, man. Even if this doesn't work out, for some insane reason, don't feel that you've gambled all and lost. I will happily continue to read any shorts and one-offs that you write!
Weird and maybe unkind compliment to make, I know. I'm sorry. It's 2am and I nodded off once or twice while writing this whole post. Been a bit of a struggle to think right.
also, didn't The Antagonist start off kinda like this?
File 127696600611.jpg - (217.75KB,
712x644 , there are two cups.jpg) [iqdb]
“Well, finders-keepers, I guess.”
You figure you may as well keep the strangely ominous-looking, seal-covered black box, despite the fact that regardless of what it is or how you found it, it clearly does not belong to you.
Paying no mind to the notion that it belongs to someone else, and for all you know may be a highly-cherished heirloom, the likes of which would almost certainly have been passed down to someone's descendants if a certain someone had not chosen to disregard any notion of law or common decency for their own selfish reasons, you attempt to convince yourself that karma will not in any way act against you for this.
“...well, maybe I'll just hold it until I can-”
No, no, no. This is what you want. You chose this. This is the bed you made for yourself, and now you shall have to sleep in it. Or, at least try to sleep in it, supposing the pangs of guilt that will inevitably begin eating you from the inside allow you to do such things.
You chose this for yourself, and now you shall just have to live with the consequences, however dire they may be.
“On second thought, maybe I'll just leave it here until I-”
Oh. Yes. Pretend you didn't see what you saw. Pretend you did not likely witness a notorious criminal escaping with her ill-gotten goods. Pretend you did not happen upon what may very well have been one of those ill-gotten goods. Pretend that, when presented with the chance to do something good, and attempt to make things right, if only a little bit, you let it pass you by.
While you are at it, why not pretend that the owner is not currently weeping at the loss of some of their most precious possessions. Pretend that you would have done nothing at all to make their miserable day at least just a little bit nicer.
This is why your parents never let you have that puppy.
“I was gonna name him Patrache .”
Awesome. Don't care.
Tucking away the box and what's left of your conscience with the other things in your pockets, you decide to stop dilly-dallying and get on with making the most of your day. Finding yourself back on the main path, a world of choices now lay before you.
Which is to say, two.
As you gaze up at a couple of birds that are circling overhead, you decide you're going:
File 127700765798.jpg - (49.20KB,
480x640 , cool your heads.jpg) [iqdb]
The thought of splashing some cold water in your face appeals to you, and so you decide to head to the lake. Your face feels all sticky for some reason, so it would be good to wash up before you go and see anyone.
You hope you haven't been drooling in your sleep or something.
Gross, man. Gross.
- - - - - - -
“Ah, that's better.”
You make it to the lake without incident, and feel quite refreshed after cleaning yourself. Washing your hands, splashing your face, getting the dried blood off, and even brushing your teeth. All very important parts of your usual morning ritual. Very standard. Very normal.
You still can't help but think you're forgetting something, but you're not worried about it. It'll come back to you in time. Those sorts of things always do.
What does bother you is all the birds that seem to be out and flying around today. You didn't notice the smell of anything dead on your way here, yet it seems as if there are even more of them circling around in the air than before. Weird, huh?
Too bad you don't have any food on you, or you'd gladly share some with them. Sharing is always good, no matter how small the creature you're sharing with, isn't it? Sadly, the most you can do is hope they find whatever food they're seeking out soon. Be they human, animal, or even youkai, no one should ever go hungry.
“Good luck, fellas!”
Now. You're wide awake, clean, and strangely not nearly as hungry as you would expect to be first thing in the morning. With the air warming up, the mist on the lake begins to clear away, and you can barely make out the shape of a large building across the water. Probably the mansion belonging to that little vampire, and possibly even the place the thief-witch hit. If this is where your ominous-looking, seal-covered, little black box came from, this might be a perfect opportunity to return it to its rightful owners. While a part of you wonders if there might even be a reward in it for you, deep down you know that the joy of doing a good deed is ample reward, already.
Even if it's not the box's home, perhaps they could at least point you in the right direction..
“Hm...but how do I get there?”
Indeed, your ability to get to the mansion is somewhat impeded by the body of water that stands between you. You suppose you could always try swimming it. The exercise might do you some good, and it's not like there's anything worse than some fish and frogs living in it. What could possibly go wrong?
As you start to decide on the best way to stretch to prepare your muscles, your attention is suddenly caught by some movement further along the edge of the lake. You saw it only for a moment, but you could have sworn a bluish shape went into some bushes. Maybe someone you could ask for help?
Then again, if it was someone and not something, it could be that they are already preoccupied, in which case asking them for assistance would mean interrupting whatever they were doing. You wouldn't want to do that. You would feel bad.
Not only that, but you've heard tell that some of the locals in this area can be a bit...troublesome.
But, really, what's the worse you would have to deal with? A swarm of angry fairies? Ha! Hahaha! Ha! Ha.
You're completely right. People like you start crawling out of the woodwork and bitch about stupid votes, bringing their faggotry out of one board and into the next.
The season has nothing to do with it. The morality of the votes didn't suddenly change. You're just pissed because the majority doesn't agree with your oh so saintly ways.
You and I both know, that the stories here don't update so fast as to weed out the "immoral-voters" who, regardless of how much more time they may have during summer, visit the site to read a few updates that takes all of five to ten minutes to finish.
I don't see a wave of new voters coming in, do you?
>>119342 The title of the story? To these extremes do you take it's meaning, when it's written by someone who up 'til now, has done nothing but comedy? You actually believe that he hasn't prepared for people voting against his wishes, if this really were the case? That he isn't willing to speak up if we derail the plot too much? He wouldn't have given us the choice to keep the box in the first fucking post if he wasn't ready for that.
No, it seems to me that continuing to do the wrong thing will result in more and more hilarity, and I will vote for doing just that. Because I see this set-up as nothing more than ironic.
>Strangely not Hungry
>Birds flying around looking for food
>Somehow forgetting something
Something isn't right here... and it may be us.
[x] HEY LISTEN
Fairies understand this!
>>119350 Here it's not noticable since this story just started recently, but in a few other stories there's been a bit of a sharp twist in voting trends, something that hasn't been seen before.
And seeing the very likelyhood of us being cursed or such, we will HAVE to return it.
For all we know he might be serious, look at Lion, he writes Fragment of Memories, a very serious story with a few moments of comedy, and Border House, which closer to a sitcom at times. Just because a writer did one thing doesn't always mean that's all he can do.
Also I've noticed a suspicious increase of votes in "Fleet Foxes" (the story with the cop in Gensokyo), considering how the update was typical after an uneven period.
>>119359 >a sharp twist in voting trends
>something that hasn't been seen before.
...How long have you been here?
>And seeing the very likelyhood of us being cursed or such, we will HAVE to return it.
Some stories are based around being cursed and finding a way to get rid of said curse. Having it dropped on us at the start, I'm pretty sure this is something close to that.
>For all we know he might be serious
It's possible. I won't deny that. But the way everything has been written so far, it's like a constant belittling of morals. This last update screams "I must be the hero of all mankind. I dare not even call out to someone in fear they might be busy with picking their nose!"
Expect a lot of hardships and stupid-hero-sacrifices for playing this thing like the pope.
>>119361 I mean going from "nice guy trying to live his life well" to "RAPE, BURN, PILLAGE! I AM DARK AND EDGY!" Or "Why solve this massive mystery when I can fuck some fairies"
We should wait and see what the author says about this.
I remember at the start of Ancient Gensokyo where people assumed something and voted a certain way, ended up with a less than perfect outcome. Luckily, Anon learned and avoided such things for the most part.
And that someone? Chances are it was Cirno, who would have tried to pick a fight. And I don't think going about the MC's nature would result in much good either.
>>119364 Even if this thread is new, Don't Read This was very popular. I'd expect this many votes. Even if you were to halve them, the people who voted for finders-keepers far outweigh the TWO that voted for pursue, and the TWO that voted for return. This isn't an example of people turning their votes around from the norm, this is an example of people voting for the choice that seems the most fun from a fun writer. Even the entire update of the protagonist hating himself is so sarcastic, and it ended in a pun.
You're mixing stories and trying to compare the different circumstances of each. Not hitting a home-run with any of them.
>>119370 You sure seemed keen on berating everybody for their choices here, though.
When faced with situations of "can not possibly die" and "chance to rape a fairy" anon tends to go for the self-gratifying choices because Bad End does not mean Writer's Done Writing or No Chance To Try Again. Nor does the choice always bring us to that Bad End. Assuming we're even talking about the same story, the trend didn't change. It was same when we first had the chance to rape the fairy.
If there's any trend you're seeing, it's due to the fact that ALL anon (or most, considering you) think with their dicks, and are willing to wait that extra day for the writer to bring the story back a few choices so they can do things the right way that time.
Hey, Author. As somebody who has made an entire thread dedicated to satirizing Anon, Anon's decision-making skills/habits/behavior and history, and other stories on these boards, what do you think of shitstorms and bickering breaking out so early?
I'd find it either hilarious, ironic, or horribly depressing.
>>119374 What if there is no bad end? What if the results linger for the rest the story? And if there's too many bad ends, etc. There's a chance the writer will get frustrated and quit. Such as HY getting frustrated with Anon and quit not just his current story but the whole site for a while I was remarking more on the near 180. It's as if Mr. Rogers suddenly shaved his head, started wearing biker gear, and went on a crime spree.
And I've given up on trying to convince people, since the way I see it this thing will end badly with varying amounts of hilarity no matter what, so I might as well sit down and watch what happens. I mean if this is just a parody, he'll end it with a hilarious trainwreck and if this is serious, well by the time we find out it'll be too late to do anything about it.
>>119380 Each time it's a fresh new world. It could carry through just that run, but what we do is not unforgivable no matter what. This is not J>E.
And really, it doesn't take much for the writer to say "I'm being serious here, guys, please stop." and try to talk it out with us peacefully if we decide to argue with him. He can't get mad at us if he's not willing to communicate. If he does, then he's as mature as when YAF left us, and shouldn't be writing.
>>119384 >non-communication from writefags is more common than you'd think.
Yes, but when it comes down to the choice of "either get your act together or I'm leaving" they are a bit more verbal. For those who throw a fit without trying or just stomp off silently and tell us that was the reason they left months later... Well, sorry if this offends anybody whose favorite writer(s) have done this to them, but they need to grow the fuck up. If you're not willing to respect your readers they aren't willing to respect you, and you shouldn't have started writing if your ego was too big to be a part of the goddamned community.
File 127702235928.jpg - (128.16KB,
600x600 , JESUS CALM THE FUCK DOWN.jpg) [iqdb]
Do not despair over straying from the path.
It will still be right where you left it.
Do not despair over straying from the path.
You have yet to truly set foot upon it.
Do not despair over straying from the path.
Is there even a path to stray from, to begin with?
There are obviously some things you are wondering. Perhaps, I would say, even worried about. I am probably not going to answer most of them, as I would rather you actually figure some of this out on your own.
That said, in the interest of at least decreasing the number of things to bicker and fret over, if only a little, I will offer the following:
>>What if there is no bad end? What if the results linger for the rest the story? And if there's too many bad ends, etc. There's a chance the writer will get frustrated and quit.
This "you fucked yourself over in the endgame because of a bunch of shit you did a hundred choices back" Extended Bad End bullshit?
NOT going to happen.
Really now. I know this is my first actual CYOA, but come on. Give me some credit, here.
File 127706515248.jpg - (571.92KB,
1000x1400 , the terrible secret of space.jpg) [iqdb]
Stepping back from the edge, you give yourself enough room to get a good running start, charge, leap, and-
...impact with the water in the most ungraceful and painful belly-flop in recorded history. You shudder to think how much more it would have hurt if you had actually taken your clothes off like any other person would usually do when they were about to swim across a body of water, but you also realize that those people would likely have left their clothes on the shore so they would be able to remain dry. Presented with the choice of arriving at your destination either dripping wet yet fully-clothed, or dripping wet naught but your underwear to cover your shame, the choice seemed obvious.
Unfortunately, they also seem to make it just a little harder to move in the water. You never really were much of a swimmer. Plus, despite washing yourself with it not too long ago, you are still surprised by how cold it is. Even after fully immersing yourself in it, it still feels extremely cold. Almost unnaturally so. You actually think you might be going just a little numb.
Well, it should be fine. You're already half-way there! Just a little bit more, and you'll be back on dry land, and you'll be able to rest and dry off and rest and rest and rest and re s t an a nd r
NO! BAD! DON'T GO TO SLEEP IN ICE COLD WATER!
DON'T DON'T DON'T DON'T DON'T DON'T DON'T DO-
Oh! Look, you made it!
Huh. Guess there was nothing to worry about, after all.
“I think...I saw...my ancestors...”
Psh. You're fine.
Now, up and at 'em!
Theeere you go.
“I...feel a little woozy.”
Oh, suck it up, ya pansy.
Now, go on.
Put one foot in front of the other.
You call it 'walking'.
There you go.
Oh! Look! There's the main gate.
And there is the lovely gate guard, in front of the gate.
Wave hello to the lovely gate guard, why don't you?
Hm. She doesn't seem to be waving back.
Maybe she's asleep? She does that, apparently.
”HALT. YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON PRIVATE PROPERTY.”
Hm, no. She's awake.
Sounds a little gruffer than usual, though.
”ENTRY IS NOT PERMITTED TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL. PLEASE LEAVE THE PREMESIS. YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO COMPLY.”
Oh my. She seems to be a little cranky.
Maybe she's upset you disrupted her nap?
”YOU NOW HAVE TWENTY SECONDS TO COMPLY.”
You suppose the proper thing to do would be to apologize, even though she really shouldn't have been sleeping while on-the-clock in the first place.
On the other hand, perhaps if you just explained yourself, maybe you could sort this all out. It's not like you came with any ill-intent, after all.
Or, you could just wimp out, and try to find another way in.
...something about that doesn't quite agree with you, though.
Either way, there's no way you can just swim back after coming all this way, so you'll have to do something here regar-
Well it's definitely not your normal Gensokyo, with the SDM being on an Island (canonically it's not) And Meiling being replaced by some robot that is about to attack even though you never tried to go past the gate (Something Meiling'd never do).
File 127709478677.jpg - (83.68KB,
561x800 , point of entry.jpg) [iqdb]
With some slight sense of disappointment, you convince yourself that neither apologies nor explanations are going to do you much good at the moment. Shame, really. You had heard that she wasn't normally violent so long as you didn't attempt to actually charge the gate or something equally silly.
Still, she seems to be rather...grumpy...at the moment. Looks like you'll be having to find another way inside the mansion grounds, but first...
It might be a good idea to...
Yeah, that's it. Run.
And so, without waiting to see what happens when her count-down finished, you dash away like the wind. A frantic, flailing, bipedal wind. Before it even begins to say “one” you're already too far away from it to hear if it said it or not anyway, which is all the more remarkable considering how utterly exhausted you should already be from the swimming. And on an empty stomach, to boot!
Hey, you know, you can probably stop running now. Especially since you're about to trip over that bra-
Yeah. You're fine.
Once you get back to your feet and brush yourself off, you take stock of your current situation.
The bad news is that you haven't even had breakfast yet, and you're already wet, dirty, and tired.
The good news? You just spotted your way inside.
“Hm? A drainage tunnel?”
Yes, a drainage tunnel. Though there are bars covering it, they look wide enough apart to allow you to slip through them.. A brief examination of the water flowing from it, taking special note of the smell and traces of discoloration, you assume this is an outlet for the mansion's waste-water, where it is then dispersed into the lake for all the local wildlife to swim and splash within, and possibly drink.
“Wait, if this sends the mansion's waste into the lake...”
Then, clearly, the tunnel should logically lead you all the way to the mansion.
Also, you totally were swimming and washing and possibly even swallowed what amounted to highly-diluted vampire waste.
Well, it's not like “highly-diluted fish/bird/etc waste” is really any better.
With this not-at-all comforting thought in your mind, you make your way to the grating, squeeze yourself through the bars, and make your way down the tunnel. The dark, wet, poo-gas-scented tunnel.
Deep in the back of your mind, you wonder if this was at all necessary, but as you would rather not consider the possibility that your current state could have been avoided in any way while you're knee-deep in who-knows-what, you silently trudge forward until you finally come upon a door.
Unsurprisingly, given the flagrant disregard for safety, security, and the environment that have allowed you to get this far, you find the door to be unlocked. Making sure to close it as quietly as possible, you now find yourself in a dimly-lit corridor, most likely somewhere in the basement.
At one end of the hall, you can see what appears to be a large, metal door. Down the other end, you see stairs leading upward, and...a grate in the wall? Even from this distance, you can tell it's not even firmly secured.
"...wait, why would there be a ventilation shaft in a basement?"
[ ] DOOR
[ ] STAIR
[ ] GRATE
Disclosure: 7-day work week incoming. Update rate decreased to 1-per-day min/max for the duration. Have a nice day.
File 127718835964.jpg - (1.45MB,
1280x1024 , i am so so sorry.jpg) [iqdb]
As much as you dislike the notion of sneaking around like a burglar, you dislike the prospect of being found here at all. You've heard the stories, and even if they were exaggerated, the point was still clear; the Scarlet Devil and her staff do not take kindly to uninvited “guests”. That means taking the stairs and just strolling through the halls is probably not the wisest option at the moment.
While the door piques your curiosity, you shouldn't allow yourself to be distracted just yet. You did come here for a reason, after all.
So! To the vent you go!
As you thought, it really isn't very securely fastened, and you pull it free with very little effort. Looking inside, you see it's easily large enough to allow you to crawl, and is surprisingly clean and free of the cobwebs and rodent droppings you would normally expect to see in such places.
As you shuffle your way into the vent, you think you hear a faint sound from the opposite end of the hall. Given the tight quarters, though, you don't even bother to try to turn and see what it was.
Crawling forward and up and forward some more through to wherever this thing leads, you can't quite get over a few nagging thoughts in your mind. Partly, about how oddly convenient it was that an old-looking mansion like this would have well-maintained ventilation shafts capable of holding something the size and weight of a man with no problem, let alone one that was connected to the mansion's basement. More than that, though, you find it unbelievable that such a thing in such a mansion in such a place as Gensokyo could be so...boring. No creepy crawly things hiding around the corner, waiting latch onto your face and do terrible things to your head.
...then again, that's probably not something you should be complaining about.
After what seems like several minutes of quiet crawling and shuffling, you finally see another grate. Peeking through it, you see what appears to be the interior of a rather fancy bathroom.
Bathtub. Toilet. Sink. This is most certainly a very bathroom-like bathroom. That's fancy.
There even seems to be a mirror, which strikes you as a strange thing to have in a vampire's mansion, but then you remember you're in ventilation shaft.
You're about to test the grate, and see if you can push it open, but stop when you hear the sound of a door opening.
“...uya, I shall be preparing to retire for the night. Under no circumstances am I to be disturbed, understand?”
“Understood, Mistress. I shall ensure that no one disrupts your 'happy time' under any circumstances.”
“Don't don't put it like that!”
“My apologies, Mistress. Will there be anything else?”
“That will be all, Sakuya.”
“Very well then, Mistress.”
You hear the door close, followed by what you assume to be the click of a lock being set.
“That woman. Honestly.”
A winged girl with blue hair walks into view. Between what you already knew, and the conversation you just heard, there is no mistake about who this was.
The “Scarlet Devil” herself.
While you've heard plenty of stories, and even briefly glimpsed her once or twice in the village, this is the first time you're aware of that you've been able to get a good look at her.
Frankly, with the varying accounts of just what she was like, you weren't sure what to believe, what to expect. A dignified young woman? A spoiled brat? An evil mastermind? You couldn't see how all of these accounts could be true, and yet now...you think you might understand.
Though there is no mistaking her for an adult from a physical standpoint, she carries herself with a level of poise and dignity, even in this bathroom, that gives the impression there is far more to her than her apparent age would suggest Depending on the circumstances, you could easily see her being any of the things you've heard her to be. You suppose it just goes to show how little stock you should put on mere app-WHOAWAITAMINUTE SHE'S TAKING HER CLOTHES OFF.
Though the actions themselves aren't any different from how you imagine anyone else would disrobe in their own home, you still get the feeling she pulls it off with a certain grace and elegance. Buttons are unbuttoned, ribbons untied, undergarments slid off, and all sorts of delicious flesh is exposed for all to see. Or rather, for you to see.
Realizing how very, very, VERY bad it would be to get caught right now (to say nothing of the wrongness of the act itself, you naughty, naughty boy), you quietly clamp your hands over your mouth and nose, and reduce your breathing to the bare minimum needed.
...of course, even if you were to be caught, it would be too late. You've already seen everything. You've seen it all.
Making sure to etch every detail and curve into your brain, your eyes follow her every movement as she walks across the room, towards the bathtub, past the bathtub, away from the bathtub, towards the...toilet?
Settling herself upon the seat, she assumes what you can only describe as a rather unladylike posture, hunching over, hands on her knees, and then...
*frrrrrrrrrrrt* “Ha! VWAN steenky-deenky!”
If you had not just seen it, you probably wouldn't have believed it.
Visibly straining just a little, she lets out anot-
*frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt* “TWO! TWO steenky-deenky!”
You just pinched yourself.
Yes. You are seeing what you think you're seeing.
Tightening her grip on her knees, extending her elbows out a little more, and even wiggling her toes a bit, she strains a little more, and lets out yet anot-
“THREE! THREE steenky-deenky!”
...and now you're smelling it, too.
It smells like old meatloaf.
You wish to look away, and yet you find yourself unable to stop, transfixed on this sight by a strange mixture of awe, disgust, and mild arousal.
Tightening your hold on your nostrils, you see her strain just a little more, going visibly red in the face as she does so.
“Aww. THREE! THREE steenky-deenkies! AH! AHH! AHHH!”
As you watch and listen to the little lady-vampire laugh to herself in that strange and unfitting fake accent, you pray that you can leave this place without having to meet her face-to-face. Having seen what you've just seen, and having any other image of her thoroughly smashed to pieces in your mind as a result, you are uncertain about how likely it would be for you to look her in the eye for any length of time.
Deciding you've had enough, you quietly move yourself back into a comfortable crawling position, and are about to move on when something strange catches your eye.
Feathers. Jet-black feathers scattered about the bottom of the vent ahead of you, and continuing off into the distance and around the corner.
File 127727825815.jpg - (51.71KB,
800x500 , and the trees are humming.jpg) [iqdb]
Birds? In your ventilation shaft?
More likely than you think, apparently.
Fighting back the urge to pop your head through the vent and stare at the naked-and-defecating vampire, you shuffle away, still attempting to remain as quiet as possible, even as the loud sounds of grunting and straining and splashing make you wonder if stealth is even necessary at this point.
As you round the corner in the vent, following the trail of feathers, you could swear you hear a whip-crack and the sound of breaking porcelain, followed by hearty laughter.
Definitely hoping you don't have to meet her face-to-face. Not while the image of what you just bore witness to is fresh in your mind.
Of course, by hoping for that to not happen, you are quite possibly ensuring that it will happen at some point. Because, let's face it, that's just how shit works.
Doing your best to thrust the sights and sounds of the Bowel Movement of the Scarlet Devil, you try to focus all your attention on these feathers.
“It's like someone plucked an entire flock of birds in here, or something.”
The further you move down the vent, the more feathers you see lying around. After just a minute of crawling, and now the whole bottom of the vent is covered with them. You can't even feel the metal anymore. Just feathers. Fortunately, you still have the sides which are...wait, where did the rest of the vent go?
Somehow, you're not inside a vent anymore. For that matter, you don't seem to be inside, period. All around you, as far as the eye can see, are trees. Large, black trees.
The ground is covered in feathers, with more falling down from somewhere above.
It's kinda cool.
Then you notice that the leaves on the trees are not really leaves, but feathers, as well.
You don't know what what to think of that.
The idea of tress with feathers for leaves.
It could be worse, at least they're not bees.
The bees, the bees, those damn buzzing bees!
All buzzily-buzzing as they buzzing please!
Oh how you desire their buzzing disrupted,
But presently, you're 'bout to be interr-
“YOU ARE A DOG ON THE DEVIL'S LEASH!”
Looking up, you see a strangely-dressed woman with wings standing on a branch above you. Decked-out like a highly-fashionable mummy, the bandages she wears prevent you from getting a good look at her face, or at least they would if you weren't focused more on the excellent view you have up her skirt.
“DON'T BE AFRAID OF KNOWLEDGE!”
Unsure of how to respond to this clearly-insane person, you do the only thing you can think of.
You throw a rock at her head.
”THE TRUE MEMORIES, THEY ARayaaaaaaah!”
The bandaged loony falls to the ground with a thud. Before you can go inspect your “kill”, however, you feel a sudden surge of pain in your head, as if something just smacked you on the top of your skull.
Feelt almost like...metal?
Blinking a couple times to clear the tears from your eyes, you look around to see the same dull, gray metal of the vents in which you've spent the past several minutes. You don't see any feathers anywhere, though.
Your confusion passes quickly, though, as you look ahead and see your way out of this damn shaft. It would appear that someone was kind enough to leave the vent cover off this one.
Creeping up to the opening, you peek out into what seems to be a laundry room. Walls lined with washers and driers, and in the middle of them, a woman.
Even though she's standing with her back to you, the wings, clothes, and those stupid shoes are all a dead giveaway about what she is. More than that, the very fact that one of them is even here, of all places, pretty much tells you all you need to know about who she is.
A Tengu, away from the mansion, and sneaking around a vampire's mansion?
The question, then, is what to do? Dealing with her could be problematic, but she's bound to have some useful information. May even be able to help you get around this place
Then again, if you'd rather not deal with her, there are...ways, that can be achieved, too. Of course, those ways would be potentially rather rude and unpleasant. Two things that are not wise to be when around her kind.
File 127736718398.jpg - (451.82KB,
638x1088 , ha i got your soul.jpg) [iqdb]
Carefully slipping out from inside the vent, you lower yourself to the floor, brush yourself off, and are about to say something to the Tengu girl when you're suddenly blinded by a bright flash of light.
“Ooh, good, good! 'Break-in at the Mansion! Lighting upon the floor, the intruder reveals himself! Definite front-page material, maybe with 'Before' and 'After' pictures, hm...'”
Blinking repeatedly, your vision clears, giving you a good view of the one who just flashed you., and not in the fun way.
“Whoa, whoa, wait! I'm not-”
“Huh? No, no, of course, of course. Don't look the type, and your clothes- ah! I see now! 'Food Crisis of the Scarlet Devil! Vampire's blood source escapes, seeks freedom! Full page spread with exclusive intervi-”
“Hey, no, I'm from-”
“Oh, yes, yes, what was I thinking? Definitely not the type for that, too scrawny, but still a shame, or maybe not. Scandals, good for attention, but not so much when involved parties know how to find you.”
“Look, excuse me, but-”
“Ayayaya, but where are my manners?!”
Tucking away the notepad and pencil she had been frantically writing in, presumably jotting down notes, she offers a small bow.
Maybe she actually has some sense of humility after all.
“Sorry about that, when the ideas start flowing I find it best to just let myself run with it. Anyway! As you may have guessed, it is I, Gensokyo's most trusted news source, Pure and Honest Reporter Shameimaru!”
As she proudly stands there, arms akimbo, you realize she's probably waiting for you to introduce yourself. Frankly, you're disappointed that you would forget such a basic-yet-crucial aspect of common courtesy.
[ ] “Hi! My name is...”
[ ] No comment.
[ ] Media blackout
You suppose the proper thing to do in this situation is to introduce yourself, especially since she already did it herself.
“Ah, yes, I am did you come here for, then? Wait, don't tell me...not coming to rob the mansion, not trying to escape the mansion...hmm...could it be...ah! Could it be that the reason you've come here is to find me?”
“Huh? Wha-...no! I came here to-”
“It's not that I'm not flattered, I am, but I'm afraid I'm just not in the market for an assistant.”
She reaches over, and pats you on the shoulder consolingly.
This irritates you for some reason.
“Don't take it so badly, though! It's impressive that a mere human could track me down like this! You should be proud! In fact, I'll even give you a bit of guidance! Now then, what is it that which a good reporter must seek out above all else? What is the single most important element in all that they do and seek to attain?”
“Is this supposed to be a rheto-”
“The answer is TRUTH! No matter the story, it is the duty of the reporter to seek out and present the truth behind it! Case in point: this mansion! The fact that certain individuals come and go from this place freely, looting whatever they like is no secret. It's also so common it barely qualifies as news. However!”
“To look only at that part is far too shallow in focus! Like a lens focused on an object right in front of it, it cannot see the bigger issues behind that object! Only when you take into account the objects in the background as well as the foreground do you truly appreciate the full picture and the truth within it.”
“So then, suppose you were to write an article about this mansion, and the very clear lack of security it has. If it can be infiltrated so easily, then that's pretty much the only logical conclusion you could make, right?”
“Right. But! What if you went to print with that story, as-is, and it turned out that wasn't really the case at all? Your story, your news, would be completely devoid of truth! But!”
“What if you were to investigate the situation personally? With your own hands and your own eyes, you bear witness to the truth as it is!”
You're about to say something in response, but once again find yourself getting cut-off.
“I see. So, basically, you're saying you broke into this mansion in order to write a story about how easy it is to break into this mansion?”
“Exactly! I mean...wait...”
The reporter looks at you as you look at her, the expression on your face likely mirroring her own.
Neither you nor she said that just now.
There is someone else in the room.
The two of you turning your heads simultaneously towards the origin of the voice, you look towards the door and see it blocked by silver-haired maid.
She's holding some knives in her hands.
That's probably not good.
"Hello there." she says.
That's also probably not good.
[ ] Knock out the maid.
[ ] Knock out Shameimaru.
[ ] Knock out yourself.
What do you do?
What can you do?
What should you do?
Calm down, calm down, think this through for a moment.
Run for it?
Can't run for it, she's in front of the door.
Back to the vent?
Impossible, you'd never get back up in it in time.
Take out the maid?
Are you nuts? She has knives!
Take her out to dinner?
Appealing, but hardly the time to be asking anyone out on a date.
Maybe clobber the Tengu on the head, make it look like you're not with her?
A little too late for that now, I think.
Take the Tengu out to dinner?
Again, not really the time or place.
...take them both out to dinner?
Are you even listening to me?
But I am me.
ME. That's it!
...I'll take myself out to dinner?
No, no, no, that, but without the dinner.
Oh. OH! AHA!
Brilliant! Brilliant! They'd never see it coming!
“Now then, what to do about you two, I wonder?” the maid says, though whether she's addressing you or merely thinking out-loud, you're not sure.
As she continues to speak, she begins flipping one of her knives into the air, catching by the blade between her fingers each time it comes down, before flipping it back into the air.
“Take you to the Mistress, perhaps? She always is interested in meeting those with the audacity to intrude upon her home uninvited...hm, but then again she clearly said she's not to be disturbed right now.”
You steal a glance at the previously-talkative Tengu, and see that even she seems to know when to remain silent. That she recognizes now as such a time is not too encouraging, to you, though.
“Hmm...perhaps the young Mistress, then? It's been a while since she's had some good company, what with all the time she spends in her room these days...”
You think you just heard the Tengu gulp nervously.
So, so not encouraging.
“Hm, hm, no, I think perhaps it is best if I simply attend to the two of you...personally.”
Catching her knife one final time, this time by the handle, she smiles yet again.
Looks like it's now or never.
“Well then, if you would please come with me, I shall see about putting out some te-”
“YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE! NYAHAHAHAHA!”
With that one single yell of defiance, you grit your teeth and begin viciously punching yourself in the head. Over and over and over and over, as the maid and Tengu look at you with a mix of shock and awe.
In pain, but not so much that you feel even the slightest bit woozy, let alone near blacking out, you run over to a nearby dryer, open the door, stick your head in, and start slamming it on yourself as hard as you can.
It hurts a lot.
But it's not enough.
Not nearly enough.
Wiping the blood from your eyes, you realize what you must do.
With the two ladies too stunned to say anything, let alone try to stop you, you charge full-speed at the wall on the opposite end of the room, lowering your head at the last minute.
For a brief moment, just before the top of your skull makes impact, you wonder if this was really such a good idea.
It's the last thought you have before
I see nothing.
Nothing but darkness.
Darkness as far as the eye can...
I open my eyes.
It's not dark anymore.
Huh. Silly me, forgetting something as simple as that.
Especially when there are far more important things I'm forgetting.
...what were they, again?
I suppose if I could remember them, I wouldn't have forgotten them in the first place, would I?
“Yo, ya finally awake?”
Huh? Is somebody else there?
...well, of course there is. It's not like I'm hearing voices in my head or anything, right? Ha ha ha! Ahh...ah...ha...
“Yoo-hoo. Over here.”
I look over to where the voice came from, and see what I assume is the owner relaxing against a tree, waving to you. Quite a knockout, too. Don't see too many red-heads around these parts, except at that mansion.
I wonder, is there any relation?
Anyway, I get up from the bed of flowers I had been apparently resting in, brush myself off, and turn towards her.
“Oh, up and at 'em already, huh? Well, guess this was a long enough break anyway. Let's get a move on then.”
Huh? Am I going somewhere?
“Come on, into the boat, you go.”
That boat over there?
Kinda small, isn't it? Especially for such a huge body of water.
Why am I going on a boat ride, anyway?
What's this all about?
I see her stand up, holding her large scythe in one hand, and putting her other on her hip.
File 127754462471.png - (621.15KB,
660x858 , die another day.png) [iqdb]
Well, never mind any of that. How about dinner?
“Huh? You know you're dead, right? The last thing the dead need to worry about is eat-...well, okay, the last thing most of the dead need to worry about is eating. It's just one of those things you don't really do anymore, y'know?”
I think she misunderstood me. I meant dinner for the two of us.
She just stares at me.
I'm not sure this was such a good idea or not.
Okay, she's laughing now.
That does nothing to help to help matters.
“Ahhahahaha, ah, wow. Haven't heard that one before! Most of the ones who try to get out of taking the ride go for the old 'I want to play a game' schtick. Or plain ol' bribes. 'Course, to play games you need at least a body, which they pretty much don't have anymore. And bribes? Most of those types don't even have enough on them to pay the fare. Figures, doesn't it? All the currency in the world, but the one that matters most.”
That's kinda hurtful. I mean, sure, not getting into that boat would be very nice, but...
Well, it's just, going out with such a lovely lady would be great, too.
“Oh, stop, you'll make be blush. Seriously, though, thanks. Don't really get that from the ones I deal with in my line of work. You got guts. But, I'm afraid I still gotta turn ya down, kiddo.”
“Yeah...I mean, it's not like I wouldn't be interested...”
“...buuuut I am technically 'on the job' right now, you are technically a part of that job right now, and even though I don't mind mixing business and pleasure, there are limits even I have to keep to, ya know? I don't even wanna think of the lecture I'd be in for if my boss found out.”
At this, she shudders, as if remembering something very, very unpleasant. I guess her boss is one of those hard-ass, not-to-be-fucked-with types.
Suddenly, a light breeze blows through the area. It feels refreshing.
She seems to notice it, too, and looks up in the sky. What she's looking at, I can't tell, but she certainly seems to be focused on something.
“Huh, well I'll be...”
She looks back at me.
“Good news, you're not dead yet.”
She clears her throat, in a manner that reminds you of someone about to give a big speech.
“It is not yet your time, blah blah blah, work to be done, yadda yadda yadda, so on and so forth.”
Huh. Some speech.
“Well, you get the idea. Now get yer ass outta here, I have some more napping to do.”
As I watch her settle back down in her spot against the tree, I can feel something pulling on me, but I can't let it take me yet. Not just yet. There is still one thing I need to know...
“Hey! What about dinner?”
“Huh? You're still on about that? Heh. Well, I'll tell you what, if you manage to catch me when I'm off the clock and you happen to not have that whole 'dead' thing going for you...well, we'll just have to see, won't we?”
“Of course, by that time I'm sure you'll have bigger things to worry about that dining with little old me.”
Bigger than dining with a beautiful red-head (with a damn fine body, to boot)? Inconceivable!
“Yeah, yeah, I'm just saying. Now get outta here, and don't worry if something else does come up. I won't take mind.”
Well, if she says so...
“Besides,” she says with a grin. “It's not like you won't be seeing me ever again. You'll be back, one way or another.”
I feel both comforted yet unsettled by that.
The pulling has grown stronger, to the point that I can't really resist it anymore.
I let it
Your head hurts for some reason.
It hurts a lot.
Hm, yeah. Probably not a good idea to touch that.
“Oh, you're finally awake?”
You reflexively turn your face towards the source of the voice, and immediately regret it.
When your vision finally clears, you see none other than the silver-haired maid sitting my your bedside.
“You know, if you really did not want tea, a simple 'no' would have sufficed.”
She smirks, as if finding something mildly amusing. You just stare blankly in return.
Realizing she won't be getting whatever reaction she had hoped to get from you, she coughs into her hand, and continues.
“In case you were wondering, you are currently in one of our guest rooms. After your little...shall we say 'episode', I moved you here and had your reporter friend go to fetch the doctor . I would assume they are already on their way, and should be here soon. However, before they arrive, I have a couple questions I would appreciate having answered, and for your sake I should hope they are good ones.”
You can't help but gulp.
“Now then, why did you come here?”
Figuring you have no reason to be dishonest regarding your intentions, you tell her everything that had happened to you since this morning, minus a few choice bits here and there. Nothing that detracts from the truth, but merely details that were best kept on a need-to-know basis. And as far as you were concerned, she didn't need to know.
She listens to you, nodding her head at times, such as to your assumptions about the witch robbing the place. She does, however, give you a strange look when you tell her of your little swim to get to the mansion, but does not interrupt you while you're speaking. When she was sure you had finished, on the other hand...
“So, wait, wait, let me just confirm this. You swam here from across the lake?”
“Across the lake.”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah I did.”
She just stares at you with a puzzling expression, however it's not nearly as puzzling as what she says next.
“What do you mean, 'why'?”
“Why did you swim?”
“Well, how else was I going to get here? It's not like I can fly, or anything.”
“Um, you could have just walked here, you know.”
“Well, yeah, it's not like this mansion is on an island or anything.”
Well, don't you just feel silly, now?
Before you can mentally kick yourself too much, though, you notice the maid rise from her seat.
“Well then, since you don't seem to be in any immediate danger, I shall assume you are well enough to be left unsupervised until the doctor arrives. I must get back to my duties now, so unless there is something else you require, I shall now take my leave.”
Actually, now that she mentions it...
[ ] You'd like to visit the crime scene.
[ ] You'd like to take her out to dinner tag along with her.
[ ] You'd like to just stay here and wait for the doctor.
“Actually, I was wondering if I could have something to eat, please.”
“Oh yes, you had mentioned you had not yet had breakfast, didn't you?”
“Yeah, it wasn't bothering me before, but now I am kinda hungry.”
It's amazing what an unnecessary swim through ice-cold polluted water, running for your life, trudging through a sewer, crawling though air ducts, and inflicting blunt head trauma upon yourself can do for an appetite.
“Hmm, well, I'm not sure it would be good for you to have much before the doctor has looked you over, but there's probably no harm in letting you have a little snack before she gets here. Is there anything in particular you would like?”
You, for starters. Wait, what?
A few light, tasty, and surely completely innocuous choices come to mind.
File 127762969061.jpg - (12.59KB,
310x414 , I AM EGG.jpg) [iqdb]
“Do you have any eggs, by any chance? Eggs sound good right about now.”
“Hm, yes, I believe we still have some fresh ones in the fridge. Is there any way you prefer them?”
“Anything is fine, really. Eggs are eggs, after all.”
“Very well, then. I'll bring them here when they're finished.”
And just like that, the maid is gone. Gone off to do whatever maid-y things she does, and cook some eggs, too.
With little else to do, you lay back on the bed, look up at the ceiling, and think about eggs.
Delicious, nutritious, incredible, edible eggs.
They truly are the best, aren't they?
You like eggs.
You like eggs.
You love eggs.
You like omelets.
You like meringue.
You like firm eggs.
You like runny eggs.
You like scrambling.
You like cracking shells.
You like whisking.
You like flipping.
You like boiling.
You like frying.
You like coddling.
One taste, nay, one sniff of those delicious little bastards is all it takes to remind you of the good old days. You could say it's even nostalgic, the taste of eggs.
So wiggly, jiggly, with that delicious yellow middle.
Truly, that's the best of what they are.
Never could quite get the hang of eating them raw, though.
Tried it once, and decided it just wasn't for you.
Of course, the salmonella poisoning you came down with as a result had a lot to do with that.
When you think about it, you suppose that's how it's usually been for you, though.
Try something new, see if you like it, and when it turns out to give you nothing but pain you shy away from it from that point on.
A natural defense, to be sure, but still you have to wonder.
In a way, it could be said that is why you are in the situation in which you find yourself now.
Who knows how things would have gone had you not run from the strangely gruff-sounding gate guard? Who knows what would have happened had you not opted to stay in this room and wait for the doctor to come and verify you have not permanently damaged your brain?
Well, you wouldn't be getting any eggs, for starters. And wouldn't you have felt pretty foolish then, wouldn't you?
So, in the end it all works out, and you have eggs to thank for it.
Thank you, eggs. Thank you.
You grace us with your wisdom as much as you do your deliciousness.
If only more people could learn the lessons you had to offer us, perhaps the world would be a better place, if only by virtue of the fact that everyone would be eating more eggs.
They're a miracle, that's what they are.
A goddamn fucking miracle.
Right here on the planet.
Your contemplations over the wonders of eggs is disrupted, however, by the sound of chirping outside the window that you just noticed was in the room.
Looking outside, you see a little bird sitting in a nearby tree.
It almost looks like it's looking right at you.
Staring at you.
With its eyes.
It's beady little eyes.
You decide to wave to the little birdie.
'Hello, little birdie!' you say without actually saying it.
'I'm gonna eat something that came out of one of your relatives!'
It's a good thing you don't say certain things out-loud.
A very good thing, indeed.
Somehow, you are certain that this, too, is something that eggs have taught you.
Is there nothing they cannot accomplish?
Man, if only you had them right now, you could...oh, wait, there they are.
Somehow, a plate of piping-hot scrambled eggs has appeared right in front of your eyes.
Also, it seems to be connected to an arm connected to a maid who also seems to have appeared right in front of your eyes. This is, of course, also impressive, but less so since you're pretty sure you can't eat a maid oh yes you can.
You think she says something, but you can't quite make it out.
You are too transfixed by the egg-laden platter before you.
You think you say something back, possibly thanks, but you're just not giving enough of a damn to care what.
She seems to be smiling, so at least you can take comfort in knowing whatever you said was most likely something appropriate.
Taking the plate from her, you think you say some other words of thanks, to which she again smiles.
Then she says something and so on and yadda yadda and goddamn it hurry up I want to eat eggs not listen to your jibber-jabber and oh look she's gone.
Now is time, not for talk, but for eggs.
Eggs eggs eggs.
Eggy weggy weggs.
Straight in your mouth.
Straight in your goddamn what is with all the bird noises?!
You look outside the window, and see just what is up with all the bird noises, which are killing your awesome egg-buzz.
The little bird is still out there.
But now, he has a friend. And a friend. And a friend.
He has a lot of friends.
Feeling your egg-lust waning, you find yourself once again capable of semi-rational thought.
There are birds outside your window.
A lot of birds.
I mean, a loooooooooooooooooot of birds.
It's amazing there's enough space on all those branches to hold them all.
And they're all looking right at you.
[ ] Maybe I'm not so hungry after all...
[ ] Well, maybe just a little...
[ ] OMNOMNOMNOMNOM
So, they're watching you, huh?
Think they're gonna intimidate you, do they?
Well fuck them.
You're having your eggs AND eating them, too!
Glaring back at them defiantly, you thrust your fork into the yellow, fluffy mass. Without breaking eye-contact, you raise your egg-laden fork, and jam the steaming-hot eggy load into your mouth.
Pull the fork away.
And smile at your feathered onlookers.
The birds simply continue to stare at you in silence.
Though a part of you feels a slight sense of relief that they haven't done something like smash in through the window and peck you to death, their complete lack of any other reaction is somewhat vexing. But they don't react. They merely continue to watch you from their perches.
Those winged, beady-eyed bastards
Deciding it's time to step up your game, you set the fork aside, and start grabbing scrambled eggs by the fistful and stuffing them into your open maw. Handful after handful of those deliciously fluffy golden curdles, and yet the birds still do nothing.
You grab the plate with both hands, and shove your face right into the remaining eggs, lapping them up like dog, stopping only to take yet another handful and smear it all over your mouth as if to say 'Ho ho ho! I'm Santa Claus with a scrambled egg beard!'
Before long, you no longer have any eggs left, and so must resort to simply licking the greasy residue left on the plate. While you weep inwardly that the meal was over so quickly, you dare not let those feelings show.
Not while they continue to watch.
And watch you, they do.
Silently sitting upon their branches, silent and unmoving.
In the dead silence of the room, you and the feathered flock outside stare at each other. You at them, they at you.
“You ate them.” comes a voice from behind.
You turn to see the Tengu girl standing in the middle of the room.
She must have just returned from fetching the doctor.
“You ate them.” she says again, the words flowing out of her beak in a dull monotone.
Her head twitches, cocking first to one side, then the other.
In the blink of an eye, she's suddenly standing right next to you.
Her beak opens again, and yet more words come out.
“So. How were they? Delicious?”
The large, shiny eyes on the sides of her head do not show any sign of emotion, any more than her beak or the words flowing from it. Only the occasional way her head feathers ruffle before smoothing back down betray any emotion.
Realizing you won't make matters any better by remaining silent, you attempt to answer her as calmly as possible.
“Er, yes, they were quite good.”
“Ah. Yes. I saw them. They looked so fluffy and yellow. So very yellow.”
“Um, yeah. Yeah, they were yellow.”
“So very yellow. And yet you ate them anyway. Even though they were so yellow, you ate them.”
“Um, yes, that's generally whaAHH!”
You're cut off mid-sentence as you feel her beak rush past the side of your head, leaving the side of her own right in your face, staring you down with her big, red eye.
File 127784450223.jpg - (213.73KB,
1024x640 , tastes like it.jpg) [iqdb]
You stare at the reporter.
She stares back.
You stare at her.
She stares at you.
Back and forth, silently staring.
As fun as a staring contest with the Tengu is bound to be, though, you would rather not let this go on for much longer. If only you could do something, anything...
So, carefully reaching up, you place your hand on her and slowly slide it down her side. Her head feathers ruffle a bit, but she otherwise shows no reaction. Encouraged by the fact that she has not pecked your eyes out yet, you continue moving your hand up and down the side of her body, and have your other go to work caressing the side of her head.
Over the smooth surface of her beak to her feathered cheek, you move your other hand back around her head, past her ear hole, and put your fingertips to work gently scratching her neck. Though she makes no sound, the way her head has begun to crook to the side tells you she she's enjoying this.
Figuring it wouldn't do to keep working the same area, you shift your hand periodically, her neck bending along with it. Meanwhile, you have kept your other hand stroking her body, gradually moving it further and further until you're basically rubbing her back. Holding her in a half-embrace, you feel her squirming, yet still she remains silent.
You decide to do something about that.
Still scratching around her neck with one hand, you slowly move your other down her back, lower and lower, stopping only once it has reached its objective. For the briefest of moments, you allow it to simply sit there on that spot, and then...
That single sound escapes from her now-open beak.
A strange sense of elation washes over you at this small victory.
Yet, you find yourself conflicted.
On the one hand, something about this whole situation seems wrong to you.
Very, very, very, very wrong.
You can't quite place your finger on why, but you get the feeling that you shouldn't be doing this.
Releasing your grip on her buttocks and ceasing your scratching of her neck feathers, the Tengu girl cocks her head to the side and looks at you in quizzical manner.
Your eyes once again locked in a strange staring contest, you finally realize what is bothering you about this.
What, about this situation, you find so disagreeable.
You barely even know this girl!
Having met her barely an hour or so ago, you're not sure what exactly you would classify your relationship to be, but it was surely nowhere near the point where it was even remotely appropriate to be touching her in such a manner! To say nothing of the thoughts of going even further!
While she certainly seemed to be offering no objections, you are sure that she, like you, are merely acting more out of instinct and hormones than reason or logic, and were she in a clearer state of mind, she would almost certainly regret this.
You feel pangs of shame at the thought that you would so readily defile a young woman's innocence and purity in such a manner. You have not even so much as asked her out on two or three dates yet! Or met her parents! Or committed yourself to her and her alone! What kind of man, nay, what kind of decent human being are you, who would engage in such acts without the slightest regard for propriety or social norms?
Or, at least, so says one part of your mind.
Another part, far less concerned about some matters of morality, tells you not to listen to that other part, that needs to be no more meaning to any act than what the participants themselves want there to be. If she has no problems with a little one-time-only fling, and you have no problems, than what's the harm?
At this, the previous part of your mind seems to have a minor conniption fit, or as close to one as a part of your mind can get without being able to engage in physical gestures. A one-time-fling? it practically screams as indignantly as it possibly can without actually saying anything. Apparently unwilling and unable to even fathom such an idea, it tells you that there is no way you ever could or should do such things without committing yourself completely and utterly to that one person from that point on, no matter what.
And so your mental debate rages on, your sense of reason and morality clashing with your more basic desires and instincts, all the while a third part, one that simply both sides need to just calm down and take it easy tries to get the others to relax and realize that this not the end of the world either way, and this in-fighting is completely unnecessary and ruining what would could otherwise be a wonderful time for all parties involved.
It is, of course, completely ignored.
Apparently growing tired of watching you stare blankly into space as your mind fights it out amongst itself, the target of your stroking and groping lets out a single “CAW.” before flying out the window. Or rather, through the window.
Which, strangely, doesn't break.
Also, the birds are gone.
[ ] ENGAGE IN PURSUIT
[ ] HOLD YOUR POSITION
[ ] WHAT WAS THAT NOISE
[ ] WHY AM I YELLING
>something about this whole situation seems wrong to you.
>You barely even know this girl!
I think I love you. Marry me? Will you stroke my feathers every night and tell me what a pretty little birdie I am while I sing sweet nothings in your ear? Will you scratch my head and mine alone and vow never to scratch another? Will you take these broken wings, and learn to fly again, learn to live so free?
File 127793468116.jpg - (67.01KB,
800x549 , dun nun NAH nun.jpg) [iqdb]
As you stare out the closed window the bird-headed girl you were groping in a highly-inappropriate fashion flew out of despite it being closed without breaking it in any way, you suddenly remember that thing you had been forgetting. Which is to say, you remember that you forgot something, but do not remember what it was. Memory's funny like that, isn't it?
With the vaguest sensation that there was maybe, possibly, something else amiss about what just happened beyond what you were already aware of, you turn your attention to the door, which has been making the strangest sound for the past minute or so. A sound not unlike that of something striking a large piece of wood over and over. What did they call that again?
Ah, yes. 'Knocking'.
You know how this goes.
'Knock knock' goes the door.
“WHO'S THERE?” goes you.
“Doctor Yagokoro.” goes the door.
“DOCTOR YAGOKORO WHO?” goes you.
The door swings open, and in walks a silver-haired woman of indeterminate age who clearly doesn't understand how the routine is supposed to go. But then, judging by her odd, blue-and-red star constellation motif clothing that makes you wonder if she doesn't belong to a cult of some sort, and so maybe she just doesn't get out enough, because it's against their laws or something.
“I assume you are the one who requires my services.” she says, setting down a small, black bag on a nearby dresser. Rummaging through it for a few moments, she seems to find whatever she was looking for, and pulls out what appears to be a small, thin cylinder. Walking over to you, she places one hand on the side of your head, and holds the cylinder up to your eye. You almost expect to have some light or something shining your face about now, but all that you can sense coming from the device is a quiet beeping.
“Hm. Vitals seem normal...follow this, please.” Suddenly, she moves the cylinder in front of your other eye, then back to the first one, repeating this motion a couple more times.
“Hmm, good, good, no problems so far...are you experiencing any pain at the moment?”
“MY HEAD WAS HURTING A WHILE AGO BUT IT DOESN'T FEEL SO BAD RIGHT NOW.”
“Alright, that's good. And, what about the yelling?”
“The yelling you're doing right now. Did this start after the injury?”
“I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT.”
“You're yelling right now, are you not aware of that?”
“AM I YELLING? HUH. WHY AM I YELLING?”
“Can you...stop yelling?”
“I DON'T KNOW. Is this better?”
“Very much so, yes.”
“So, um...you are the doctor, right?”
“Oh my, no. I just happen to have a hobby of wandering into the homes of others and waving strange devices in their faces.”
“I was being facetious.”
The cylinder lets out a final, long beep, and then goes silent. The doctor clicks one end of it with her thumb, looks at the side of the device for a second, then goes back over to tuck it away back into her bag. Turning back to you, she regards you with a curious expression for a brief moment, before smiling at you pleasantly.
“Well, the good news is that I see no signs of neurological damage as a result of your little head injury. You might have a bit of a bump for a couple days, and the area may be tender to the touch, but provided you refrain from smashing your head any more than you already have, you should be perfectly fine.”
Well, that sounds good, just like good news should be, right? Right.
“Now, for the bad news...”
“Oh, don't worry, it's probably nothing serious, in fact I probably should not have referred to it in such a way at all. It's just that my scans did pick up a possible abnormality, but without a more thorough examination I cannot say for certain what it is, and all the necessary equipment is back at my clinic.”
“As I said, though, it's most likely nothing serious. If it were anything dangerous or life-threatening, and even with my limited tools here I would be able to tell that much, then I would insist on you returning with me to my office immediately. As it is, however, I feel confident that such measures are not necessary.”
“What if I want to get it checked out? Find out what it is?”
“Well, then of course you would have to stop by Eientei. Any time is fine, although daylight hours are preferable for anything that is not an emergency. Much safer, too, for obvious reasons. Just let them know at the door what you're there for, and you'll be led right in.”
Eientei, huh? You knew that's where most of the people of the village went for their medical problems. You also know it's supposedly infested with bunnies, as is the bamboo forest surrounding it.
Fucking bunnies. Eugh.
“And, ah, what if I don't want to get it checked out?”
“Well, as I told you, it's most likely nothing serious, and so if you wish you could probably safely ignore it completely. Depending on your lifestyle, it might not even be noticeable at all. It's entirely up to you what you wish to do about this.”
“And there would be no strange, horrible, bizarre, or otherwise unexpected negative consequences that might crop up later on as a result of not acting on this in any way?”
The doctor pauses, as if pondering this.
“Hm, no, there probably won't be. Then again, I am a doctor, not an oracle. In any case, I have other patients to attend to now, so if there is nothing else...?”
“Ah, no, thanks. Sorry for troubling you.”
“Not at all. I am always happy to welcome new patients. Just remember me the next time you have a serious injury, illness, or organ failure, and I shall do my best to take care of it. Now then, I really must be off, so good day to you.”
Taking her bag in one hand, she gives you a little wave, and leaves.
“Well then, sir, it is good to hear that you are in good health.”
Spinning around, you find the maid from before standing right behind you.
How the hell did she get there, especially when you didn't see anyone else come through the door?
“That said, do you have further business here? If not, I shall have to ask you to leave.”
Hm, was there something? Something you came here for? Or to do?
What was it again?
“Ah, yes, it as a matter of fact...”
[ ] “I have come about the robbery this morning.”
[ ] “I have come about your ad in the paper.”
[ ] “I have come to put an end to this.”
[ ] “I have come to save the princess from the evil goblin.”
[ ] “I have come [insert reason for coming here].”
[ ] “Actually, I think I'll be going now. Bye.”
>>119941 How could I possibly say 'no' to that?
[x] “I have come [to save the evil goblin from the princess].”
[x] Stand aside, princess! I have a goblin to save
>“Oh my, no. I just happen to have a hobby of wandering into the homes of others and waving strange devices in their faces.”
Eirin with a sense of humor. FFFFFFFFFFor the first time in any CYOA on this site I actually want to go to Eientei.
File 127797709946.jpg - (194.45KB,
600x600 , get the point.jpg) [iqdb]
“...I have come to your ad in the paper.”
“Er, I mean, I came about your ad in the paper.”
The maid looks slightly confused by this. Normally, this is where you would offer some help in reminding her about it, but quite frankly not even you really know what the hell you're talking about at this moment. Whatever part of your mind is responsible for preventing you from blurting out whatever nonsense enters your head at the moment seems to have taken a vacation. Or died.
“Oh!” the maid exclaims, seeming to remember something. “You must mean...hm...but we put that out years ago...”
Suddenly, you realize she has a knife in her hand, again. And, to your relief, she once again seems to be simply idly playing with it rather than preparing to use it.
“Unfortunately, even if we were still accepting applicants at this time, I am afraid you wouldn't be quite what we would be looking for in an employee, here.
“Why not?” you ask. Not that you ever really had thought about working in a mansion, but the fact you were shot down so quickly still kinda stings your sense of pride.
“Well, let's see...there's your admitted swimming across a lake that you didn't need to swim across, your sneaking into this mansion like a common thief when you could have announced yourself properly to the guard and come in through the front door, your little freakout in the laundry room where you tried to give yourself a concussion.”
Oh yeah. Those might be good reasons to deny employment to someone.
“Your behavior aside, you are also clearly not exactly the detail-oriented type.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you appear to be easily-distracted, and unable to focus on things properly, and so you probably don't notice important details.”
“Your clothes, for example.”
“What about them?”
“Well, you're not wearing them, for starters.”
“What do you mean I'm no-”
Huh. Well, what do you know. So that's why it felt a little cooler in here than you expected it to.
Wait a minute...
“Um, why am I naked?”
“Your clothes were completely soaked by lake water and sewage. Had I put you in bed as you were, the only way I would be able to get the bedding clean after you leave would be to throw them into the furnace and have them incinerated.”
“As you can see,” the maid says as she gestures to a nearby dresser. “Your clothes have been cleaned and are folded up over there. Your personal effects have been laid out next them, and you will find them to all be intact and accounted for.”
Sure enough, you see your clothes neatly folded up, and the stuff you had in your pockets are all there, too. All except...
“Ah, Miss Izayoi...um, what about the box?”
“Hm? What box?”
“There was a little box in one of my pockets. Black. Covered with seals.”
Miss Izayoi gives you one of those looks that says 'I have no clue what the fuck you're talking about.'
“I saw no such box among the items I emptied out of your pockets, sir. Perhaps you dropped it somewhere along the way, here?”
Huh...could that be what happened?
“In any case, sir, I can assure you that if I or my staff find it, we shall try to have it returned to you as quickly as possible. Now then, if you would please dress yourself and take your effects, I shall wait for you outside.”
As quickly as she appeared, the maid is once again gone.
How the hell does she do that?
With nothing left to do, you dress yourself, marvel at how fresh and clean your clothes smell, and return your stuff to their rightful place in your pockets.
Looking yourself over in the mirror, you're satisfied that you have dressed yourself properly, head to the door, and step out into the hall to meet with the patiently-waiting maid.
“Now then, sir, if you will follow me, I shall escort you to the door.”
[ ] Okie-dokie!
[ ] One more thing!
- [ ] ("What is it this time?")
File 127806408623.jpg - (838.14KB,
1000x1333 , yall come back now.jpg) [iqdb]
“So, uh...about your gate guard...” you begin as you follow Miss Izayoi through the halls.
“Yes? What about her?” she replies.
“Well, um. Does she normally sound like something the Kappa made?”
“What do you mean?”
You're not too sure yourself, really.
“Well, you know, all deep and gruff and 'RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR? Like that.”
“I am sorry, could you repeat that?”
“All deep and gruff and 'RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR?”
“Just the sound.”
“No, I cannot say that I have ever heard her make such a sound, sir.”
Wait, is she smirking?
Why is she smirking?
“As entertaining as it is to hear you make strange noises, I am afraid this is where we must part ways.
Sure enough, the two of you are standing before what would appear to be the front doors of the mansion. Pushing one open for you, and beckoning you to go through, you oblige her and step outside. However, before she closes the door you whirl in place to say one last thing...
“How about I take you out to dinner, sometime?”
She simply stares at you, and, without saying another word, closes the door. You think you even hear the clicking of locks.
“So is that a 'maybe'?”
Oh yeah. That so totally was a 'maybe'.
Making the way down the path to the gate, you feel a certain spring in your step. And why not? You just infiltrated what is regarded as one of the most dangerous places in all of Gensokyo for trespassers, and are walking out relatively unharmed. Maybe some of the rumors you had heard about the place really were exaggerated, after all?
Then again, you can't quite shake the feeling that you may not have seen everything the place had to offer. That door in the basement sticks out the most in your mind, or at least it would if not for the image of the mansion's owner naked and farting on the toilet. Whatever it will take to remove that from your mind can't come quickly enough.
Of course, there is also the matter of that box you found, which was mostly your whole reason for coming here in the first place. You would have liked to have met with the mansion's librarian to find out more about it, but it looks like that's not going to happen for now. Pity.
Not that it entirely matters, since you seemed to have lost the damn thing somewhere along the way. Maybe it fell out of your pocket in the lake, in which case it's probably a lost cause. Or, perhaps you lost it in the sewage on your way into the mansion, which is also mostly a lost cause. Or, maybe it just fell out of your pocket while you were running from the gate guard who...doesn't seem to be around at the moment.
Instead, all you see is a red-haired woman clad in green, standing on the other side of the gate.
Announcing yourself to her, she jumps in surprise, and after stammering a few apologies she opens the gate, allowing you to step out. You think she then gasps, as if realizing something, but by this point you're far too immersed in your own internal thoughts to notice much else.
That box...what the hell was the deal with it? And why don't you feel glad that it's gone?
Sure, it seemed all ominous and creepy, but now that it's out of your possession you feel a strange sense of loss. Almost as if there was something important about it....
Oh well! No use crying over lost boxes! It's bound to turn up for someone, somewhere, eventually, anyway.
“Wait, is that it right there?”
Oh, why so it is.
For an instant, you entertain the thought of simply leaving it there, but then you remember that you had chosen to pick it up in the first place, choosing to take on the burden of finding and returning it to its rightful owner. You're certainly not the type to just back out of your commitments like that, are you? Of course you're not.
Besides, it's not like you really have anything better to do with your time.
Satisfied with this reasoning, you move to pick it up, only to jump back as a large bird swoops down, snatching it up with its feet, and flies off over the lake.
>But of course, such things would go against some of the most sacred principles of my field. I almost certainly could never truly bring myself to do something like secretly administer drugs to a patient without his informed consent. Certainly not drugs that would, for example, limit the brain's capacity for rational thought and attentiveness while drastically increasing their impulsiveness in hopes that it would compel them to swiftly remove themselves from the gene pool, be it intentionally or accidentally. Or, perhaps, something to cause them to feel a strong compulsion to jump into any bodies of water they encounter. A sort of “reverse rabies” as one might call it. Oh my, no. And I would certainly never employ something that would cause their bodies to emit a pheromone to make them much easier to sniff out for some of the more ravenous specimens of flora and fauna here. Perish the thought.
>Certainly not drugs that would, for example, limit the brain's capacity for rational thought and attentiveness while drastically increasing their impulsiveness in hopes that it would compel them to swiftly remove themselves from the gene pool, be it intentionally or accidentally. Or, perhaps, something to cause them to feel a strong compulsion to jump into any bodies of water they encounter.
>drastically increasing their impulsiveness
>strong compulsion to jump into any bodies of water they encounter.
>>120041 Mind you, we just met actual-crow Aya, at least in a sense, and it was excellent. Besides, if there's anyone I trust to straddle the line between funny and stupid and come out ahead, it's /gensokyo/ anon.
>>120042 Was there an actual bird head Aya in his shorts? I don't remember there being one. I'm curious if this does take place in the world of DRT, I wonder if we'll meet that one guy who suffered from WADs.