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File 12813324235.png - (583.24KB, 1899x842, 5f7591c2df3c3ce031ae8f0a582d545f.png) [iqdb]
5444 No. 5444
Silence.

Clank!

...Relative silence.

Clank!

A lovely little iron metronome, pushing forward however slowly with every tick and every tock.

Clank!

After a while, it doesn't even register as noise. At this depth echos are swallowed by an impenetrable darkness before the next strike, making for an unorthodox sanctuary from the outside world. The burning in my muscles is just a price to pay for such serenity. When I first started, it was a different story; The silence was deafening, and spending days on end with black on every side let my imagination fill it with all kinds of horrors. All of them were real, yeah, but there's danger in some form or another no matter where or how you work. There's no profit without risk, no risk with enough skill, and no skill without hard work. The only people who never fuck up are the ones who never do anything, right?

Thunk.

The moment I've been waiting for. Ultrasonics brought back a huge air pocket down here, and when you're looking for what I'm looking for that's a red flag. Either way, I need to be careful – the slightest slip-up can spell disaster.

For example, letting some fucking kid throw a rock down my hole to see how far down it goes.
For example, getting hit with said rock.
For example, not properly securing myself before letting an inch-wide hole open up into a mile-wide cavern.

On the bright side, my mile-long drop is padded nicely by a mile-high building. Even in the few seconds I have before impacting with the roof, it's pretty clear that if I play my cards right the term "gold mine" would be an understatement. The distant twinkle of torches and lamps becomes a brilliant sparkle against the walls of the palace, though it's too dark to tell exactly what it's gilded with. One look at the bell tower and its incredible stained glass mural, though, and scraping walls becomes the least of my concern. Of course, that isn't too high on the list either, considering the likelihood that I've simultaneously broken something and pissed off someone important by crashing through the roof.

At least there was an attic.

[ ] Bolt. This place is enormous, and there's clearly something on the ground – plenty of space to lose any would-be pursuers.
[ ] Hide. There's plenty of boxes and things in here, and it's plenty dark; it shouldn't be too hard.
[ ] Negotiate. That degree in psychology's come in handy more than a few times.
--[ ] Play it smooth. There's no such thing as my superior.
--[ ] No one can fault a victim of circumstance. I fell down a hole, that's all.
[ ] Fuck it, my supplies came with me. I can still fight.
208posts omitted. Last 50 shown. Expand all images
>> No. 6036
[X] Try to figure out ways to use plane-shifting to my advantage. There's no way I'll get a hit in if I'm not sneaky about it.

It's what all this training is for.
>> No. 6044
[X] Try to figure out ways to use plane-shifting to my advantage. There's no way I'll get a hit in if I'm not sneaky about it.

That's the point of all this, isn't it?
>> No. 6047
This shit is, for lack of a better term, bananas.

I have an unspecified amount of time available to me, and will try to get an update out either tonight or tomorrow. I somewhat doubt that I'll be able to do it any earlier, but I've proven those doubts wrong more than a few times in the past so whatever.
>> No. 6057
File 128683786026.png - (465.99KB, 800x1044, d8e328d317cc9e86f18dfcc8bded73b9.png) [iqdb]
6057
Either way, I'm not sticking around to find out. A quick shift comes just in time to witness a dramatic backward flip-kick that would have absolutely destroyed my groin. The fluttering of her dress makes me think for an instant about her earlier comment as pertaining to her panties (or lack thereof), but ultimately the darkness makes it impossible to check. Oh, well.
When she lands, she glances around for a half-second before relaxing her stance. "See, now that's what I'm talking about. Do that more."
"But it's hardly a fair fight, that way." And another shift for a backhand with her entire body put behind it. She's really not one to waste time.
"Are you saying I'm as clumsy, slow, weak, and unobservant as you?" Ouch. It's all got roots in truth, but still. I want to retort, but that would involve shifting again. There's no doubt that she's just provoking me, which means she has a plan.
"And cowardly. Don't forget cowardly." Lyndia, meanwhile, is content to sit at at distance on a throne of...wait, throne? She's definitely got more than just ghostly mojo going on. "He's over there by the way." Bitch.
"Thank you!" Another flash of motion, and the distance I'd made disappears. Her stance falls again, readying another sweeping kick. It doesn't mean much, though, what with my stashitfuck! How?! "Lesson two. Resisting control from others." Before I have time to even fall, her foot falls square on my chest and pushes me down to the ground with a stomp that echos in my entire body. With a single heel on me, she leans forward and rests her weight on her knee.
I'm beginning to hate that uppity grin. "Why is this important?"
"Because," she starts with an extra little stomp, "You're a spirit, you dolt. You're going to be naturally vulnerable to anyone with a shred of control. Just like you have to stay in control in the face of nature, you're going to have to learn to stay in control in the face of other necromancers." She punctuates her sentence with another kick, this time letting herself fly back a ways. It's all I can do to give her an indignant glare as I get up, which doesn't faze her in the least. She's right, though – completely right, actually. I shouldn't have had to ask. "Now fight me." Okay.

Rin stands waiting, either a gesture of kindness to let me gather myself or a smug form of condescension. The first thing to come to mind is plane-shifting, getting behind her, and delivering a swift strike somewhere that'd leave her open. Her expression doesn't change in the least as I walk by, and there's no indication that she can see me. My mind is very clearly set on the sideways feeling, so she's not just being facetious. How is it, then, that she spins to face me, grabs my descending arm, and puts me on the floor within the space of a blink?
"Come on. A rear sneak attack? Really? A child could have seen that coming." Her incessant prodding is starting to get on my nerves. "I mean, if you had attacked me anywhere else – literally anywhere – that counter wouldn't have worked."
Thankfully, Lyndia shouts something neither mocking nor outright insulting. "He gets credit, though. On the way over, he was still cautious of you."
"Wow, really? It's almost like I've been kicking his ass." Clearly I'm going to need to employ some creative problem-solving, here. My mind races for something to grip onto; methods, tools, maneuvers, old kung-fu movies, quirks to exploit, the environment, Rin, Lyndia, the other ghosts...The other ghosts? If nothing else, the other cloud can give me a quick reference for what plane I'm in.

And with the swiftness of a bolt of lightning, a beautiful, wonderful, horrible idea pops into my head.

Once again, I work my way toward her back, staying terribly focused on staying ethereal. This is going to take some finesse, but if it works...well, if it works then I'm not sure what I'm going to do. Probably punch her a few times. God knows she deserves it at this point. When I finally reach her, I can see the minute twitches in her eyes. She's on her guard, but that's exactly where she needs to be. Either she has a fantastic sense for timing or there's something giving me away, because like clockwork her heels spin to face me even before I completely finish shifting back. Should look into that later. Her blocking arm meets nothing but air, though, and in the split-second she spends scanning for me my legs spring up from their stance at her feet, alongside the frills of her dress. She wasn't kidding.

My desire to get a few good blows in overrides my curiosity, though. Throwing as many kicks, punches, knees and elbows as I can before she gathers herself, both on her now-exposed skin and on whatever happened to be moving under that fabric, one thing serves as a constant distraction: Laughter. No matter how much force I put into a blow or where it lands, her only response is laughter. Seeing the edges of her dress beginning to fall, I hop backward and shift again to avoid her inevitable counterattack...which never comes. Even coughing and bleeding, she struggles against her own onslaught. After a time, the giggles fade into winces more readily, and she addresses me with a disturbing calmness and simplicity.

"That's the spirit." Judging from the soft blue glow in her eyes and the slow sharpening of her nails, this fight isn't over just yet.
"Orin. That's enough for now." Judging from Lyndia actually getting up for a change, this fight is just about over.
"Oh, come on. It's probably not even the witching hour!" Oh yeah. Time does exist!
"Actually, she's got a point. I agreed to do all this, but I do have a job at the clinic and all. I should really get some sleep; I'd hate to put a needle in the wrong vein or something."
"See? There'll be plenty of time." The two stare each other down long and hard, not once glancing in my direction. Eventually Rin's eyes fade back to their normal shade, and Lyndia breathes a heavy sigh of relief. Or is that me? I can hardly tell any more.
With a light push and a huff, Rin starts making for the door. "If you say so. You get to teach him next time, though."
The comment raises a smile on Lyndia's lips, and her head turns to face me. "You keep talking to me like I haven't already said yes."
The creak of the enormous iron door straining under its own weight makes me remember one tiny little insignificant detail that decides to itch at me just now. "Hey, uh...How do I get back in my body?"
Rin flashes a lopsided, blood-stained grin over her shoulder. In the second before she speaks, a shiver goes down my spine and my stomach tightens. "What body?"

And the door slams shut.

[ ] Ha ha ha, good one, Rin. Okay, Lyndia, help me out here.
[ ] I mean, she is kidding, right? She wouldn't...
[ ] Fuck. Fuck. FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCK!

---

Sorry, unexpected delays. Fans of Orin-rin Land, your vacation is almost over. Haters of Orin-rin Land, your hell is almost over.
>> No. 6059
[X] Fuck. Fuck. FFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCK!
[X] Shift through the door and go after her.

Not cool, brah. Not cool. Even if it is just a joke/deception/exaggeration/lie.
>> No. 6061
[Q] Ha ha ha, good one, Rin. Okay, Lyndia, help me out here.
>> No. 6062
[X] Ha ha ha, good one, Rin. Okay, Lyndia, help me out here.
>> No. 6063
[x] Ha ha ha, good one, Rin. Okay, Lyndia, help me out here.
Oh that Rin, she's such a kidder.
>> No. 6067
[x] Ha ha ha, good one, Rin. Okay, Lyndia, help me out here.

Oh hell.
>> No. 6074
I'm going to have a fair amount of time available to me in the coming days, but much of it will be occupied with personal issues. Assuming all goes well, I'll be able to write something by the end of Friday. Until then, just fantasize about Yamame or something.
>> No. 6076
>>6074

Hooray!
>> No. 6083
File 12870833083.jpg - (1.03MB, 1290x903, 50f69ea76057c88123e8b22ac67334a5.jpg) [iqdb]
6083
>Until then, just fantasize about Yamame or something.
Can do.
>> No. 6084
File 128710414021.jpg - (145.65KB, 842x750, ripples.jpg) [iqdb]
6084
For a long moment, the weight of the situation sinks in on me. I can't see my body around. What's next? Do I just live like this? The world slowly warps in my eyes, which strain almost painfully, relaxing again with each blink. No more than ten seconds could have possibly passed by the time I make the connection, but they're about the longest ten seconds a man can experience. You never realize how subjective time is until you have a freak-out like that, but I've had more than enough in the last few days. There's this, there was the first shift, there was...what was there? It feels like something happened, but--"You all right, there?" I've also been shaken out of one too many reveries recently.
"Uh. Yeah. That was just a really mean joke." It's amazing how you can forget about simple things like looking for the goddamn body when you get hit with something like that. Or like where you left it. Glancing around, it...doesn't seem to be here. "...Practical joke. Help me out, here?"
All the help I get is a nonchalant shrug and a smirk. "Sorry. I wasn't keeping an eye on it. If I were you, I'd be chasing her down, though. If it's still in this room, I doubt you'd want to get back into it. Though frankly, I'm not sure why you'd want to at all."
Not funny, Lyndia. "Well, I'm just a little bit attached to it, what with being alive and all that." Or maybe it's something I'll look back on and laugh about, years down the line. You certainly don't seem to have a problem with it.
"Then go get it. The door's right there." ...That it is. An experimental push reveals just how heavy the door is, which is to say 'Much heavier than I can handle.' It also draws forth a mocking giggle from Lyndia, who remains wholly unhelpful. I can't just ask her how, at this point. Her silence just screams "Figure it out." Which means...it's something that I can figure out. Or should be able to. All I've really learned how to do tonight is...

Duh. What am I, retarded?

A shift comes as naturally as breathing, now. I hate to let insecurity get in the way, but I've got to remember to ask about whether that's normal for a single night's practice. Curse my boundless ego. Without hesitation, I run for the door, and against all of my instincts my speed doesn't drop in the least as it draws closer and closer, finally passing directly through me. It leaves a hell of a spin on my head, though. Hurts, too. And that laughing sound can't be healthy. Neither can the weird irresistible lift on my arms. "I was waiting for that! It never gets old, you know that?" How nice of you to join me, Lyndia.
"What are you doing over here? Wanted to keep an eye on me?"
The bemused smile on her face is an odd expression, but it seems to fit her. "Look at where you are." Red rock, floaty ghosts, lava river. The same training room as before. This must be some kind of magic!
"How'd I get back in here?" Following the tradition of mixing expressions, she manages to both sigh and laugh at the same time.
Under her breath, I could swear I hear a comment about men and asking directions. Without giving me time to think further on that, she continues. "You never left. Passing through solid objects isn't quite the same." Well, fuck.
"Well, fuck."
Looking over me for a second, she rubs her chin in thought. "I think you could pull it off though. Do you remember the way things were when I pulled you back from the other side?" It was...bad. Good. Weird.
"Yyyyyno. It was like a bad trip." Judging from her expression, she doesn't quite get the slang. Probably should have thought of that.
"Well, you're going to have to go on it again. Did it never occur to you that the whole time, no matter whether you were with us or immaterial, you were still standing on the same floor, seeing the same light, feeling the same air?" Now that you mention it...
"No, actually. Not until I wasn't any more."
"You said it yourself: You're still too attached. You're going to have to either put a lot more effort into pushing that door open, or abandon yourself for a while." So I can either call upon the powers of Castle Greyskull, or play it smart. Another minute or so of quiet contemplation passes as I try to get a grip on just what was going on before. I've learned enough tonight to know that self-awareness is the most important part...so far. It's certainly an important part, if nothing else. As long as I keep my wits about me, there's no limit to where I can go or what I can do, whereas letting things take their course will force me into one plane. I've already got friends in more than one, so that isn't an option. Stepping up to the door and keeping them in mind, I take a deep, readying breath. It's now or never.

"I...have...THE POWEEEEER!"

...Nothing. Fuck. Plan B, then. I shift again, but this time it needs to go further. I grab on to the sideways feeling and force it further than it can go. My stomach lurches so hard that I could swear it jumped straight out of me if I didn't know better, and a light pulse starts coursing through my body. Eventually, it all relaxes. Echos I didn't know I was hearing fade, the last cries of the material world,

and as the ripples disappear,



I just float on.






[ ] Push.
[ ] Pull.
[ ] .

---

Not all went well. I had time to kill.
>> No. 6085
[X] Pull.

God damn it.
>> No. 6086
[x] Pull.

For once, I do not trust the spoilered option.
>> No. 6087
We need to stop ignoring the insanity blackout options before it bites us in the ass hard.

[X] Pull.

But now is not the time.
>> No. 6088
>before it bites us in the ass hard.

Oh, you mean like going insane and blacking out?

Sometimes a Koishi option is just a Koishi option.

[x] Pull.

I have too many regrets.

Regrets like not pushing Rin into a crevice.
>> No. 6092
[ ] Pull.

I'll start laughing so hard if this option means he reaches out and easily pulls the door open.

Won't happen, but he's only tried pushing thus far.
>> No. 6095
>>6092
I'm guessing that's what the choice is: Pull opens the door in a very Soul Reaver-esque shift planes to solve problems kind of way, whereas Push would phase through the door. That said, I'll go with

[x] Push
>> No. 6115
The proximity to this story's second thread is becoming almost menacing. Even though it's been months, it feels like it's happening so fast.

I am not likely to finish an update today, but writing will happen at some point.
>> No. 6118
>>6115
Around two month's is actually pretty fast when not compared to those freakishly fast stories in /th/. Lion's stories, amongst the more popular on this site, tend to have the same lifespan.
>> No. 6119
File 128735816487.jpg - (32.74KB, 350x342, Nothing.jpg) [iqdb]
6119
Wait.

Go.









Hold on...

Let go...





I know there's...something here.




Nothing is here.


But nothing isn't something.

Nothing's nothing.

Right?

Nothing is here. Here is nothing.




But I'm here. Does that mean here isn't here?

There is here. Is there 'here'? Here there is




You don't have to tell me that. I already know.

Who is you?

You know. You.

Do you?

...No. That doesn't really matter though. I've got places to be.

Do I?






I do.






My head is spinning. Well, no, it's more...hot. Cold. Hot-cold. I can't really get a grip on how it feels; it's like I'm puking but with a hint of that dizziness that comes after taking a heavy fall. I know that one all too well, especially after how I got down in this fucking hole. My back is still sore from that one. Or it could be that I actually did just fall, and I'm taking it like a baby. Speaking of which, limb check. Arms okay, legs...tingly, but workable. Balls...? All right, my boys are all home. Now what the hell was I just doing? There was...whatever that was. The less I think about it, the better. Then before that was that bitch!

Nobody locks me behind doors I can't open and gets away with it; partially because I don't take kindly to that sort of behavior and partially because doors I can't open don't exist. Even if I don't know how I opened them, exactly. Normally a guy in my situation would be running like an idiot down whatever hallways he can get lost in, but I've had to chase down enough people to know that chasing isn't half as fun or effective as catching. With a delicate ear to the wall, I listen for whatever I can or can't find. Solid matter transmits sound more readily than anything, and at this hour she's got to be the only one in the building. Even as careful and as experienced as I am, though, I'm getting nothing...Which means she was stupid enough not to run.

Which also means she's still here, where there are no witnesses. Lovely. I don't have any of my usual tools on me, but there's always something to improvise with. Slow, measured, and above all silent steps mark my ascent up this death trap of a stairwell, all rusting iron and half-assed welding jobs. If this is the usual state of things in here, I'd be happy to forget about beating some respect into that hyperactive little wench and get out with my skin intact. Not that I'd know the way out, anyways.

Except I do. Why do I...?

Every room is oddly familiar, though I can't quite pin how. I can half-tell what I'm going to find before I open doors, I know where the floor's going to creak, and in a matter of minutes I've got a solid idea of how to get out. There's not a shred of doubt in the route, either; I can't see it from here but it's like walking down the street I grew up on. Either way, I've still got business in here. No matter where I go I can't seem to catch a sound from her, but she doesn't seem the type to be particularly stealthy. She couldn't have left, could she? Well, of course she could have. If I can leave, she's had plenty of time by now. So why can't I help but feel like she's still in here?

A pulse knocks me off my feet, effectively stopping any train of thought I might have started riding. Nothing like an explosion or a gust of wind; it's more like when someone drives by with the bass on their stereo turned up high enough to demolish buildings. That vibration that makes you feel like your heart is going to get thrown off its rhythm for a second. This time, it actually does. Everything in me is shouting to get the fuck away, but it's just too weird not to look into...

[ ] Fuck this noise. I'm going home.
[ ] Ignore the pulse. I'm not letting her get away with this.
[ ] Curiosity killed the cat, which is exactly why we're friends.

---

Or I'll just make it a short update after typing almost the entire thing without even having to stop to think. Is this what inspiration is like, or am I going to regret this in the morning?
>> No. 6120
So the insanity came for us instead. Huh.

[X] Fuck this noise. I'm going home.

I'm gonna have to side with his instincts here. They seem to know what they're doing right now. We'll just flat out ignore the cat from now on if he's really upset about it.
>> No. 6121
[x] Curiosity killed the cat, which is exactly why we're friends.
>> No. 6122
[Q] Curiosity killed the cat, which is exactly why we're friends.
>> No. 6123
[X] Ignore the pulse. I'm not letting her get away with this.

It's gonna be awfully awkward if we have to come to work tomorrow without the old corpus.
>> No. 6124
[X] Ignore the pulse. I'm not letting her get away with this.

Not just going to roll over and stay dead after all that. We have a sort-of nice thing going with Yamame and it's not exactly easy to practice medicine without a body. I don't dislike Orin, but the bitch is just too greedy.
>> No. 6125
[X] Fuck this noise. I'm going home.
>> No. 6126
[x] >>6124

We can't exactly do much without a body.
>> No. 6136
[X] Ignore the pulse. I'm not letting her get away with this.
>> No. 6174
I'm currently too tired and/or stupid to vote.
>> No. 6177
>>/youkai/17940
>> No. 6187
>>6177

Two writers gone because they are the same eprson. I'm actually mad at you now.
>> No. 6188
>>6187
That seems somewhat counterintuitive. It's not as though his real life commitments would have gotten any less time-consuming if he only had one identity. True, starting up new stories with old ones unfinished is not optimal form, but he's promised to finish CFA now, and is one of the few people on the boards I trust to keep that sort of promise, so all's well, really.
>> No. 6192
>>6188
Some stories are easier to do than others, though the whole alternate name thing is an annoying habit from the past. It's also Anon's fault for the pestering that leads to such things.
>> No. 6194
He clearly stated that he's dealing with personal problems right now. It's like what happens to most writers during the midterms and finals. He's coming back. He's just busy right now.

And it's not like the updates are going to stop. They just won't be as fast as they were before, which we should be used to by now.

The use of two trips does seem pointless, but it was just a countermeasure to keep Anon from pressuring him into restarting CSA, which he did anyway.
>> No. 6202
>>6194
That makes me wonder, how do we know when a story is dead and when a story is just on hiatus? What's the longest time been for a story on hiatus to actually start back up?
>> No. 6253
> That makes me wonder, how do we know when a story is dead and when a story is just on hiatus?

You don't, not really.
>> No. 6254
>>6253
I tend to go by a timeline, myself. If there's communication, then the story isn't dead. If it goes longer than a month, with or without, it's on hiatus. After two months with no word, the story is quite dead - though miraculous revivals aren't unheard of!
>> No. 6293
File 129004461892.jpg - (21.01KB, 319x320, eavesdropping-1.jpg) [iqdb]
6293
...But only if it's on the way. I know exactly what I'm here for, and I'm not about to change my mind.

I'm still clueless as to where she would be, though. No noises, no prints – not that there would be in any semi-respectable business, but a man can hope – not even a comically perfect trail of peanuts. Without waiting for a plan, my steps habitually take me into one of the mass of identical dark hallways (which, with my luck, are probably covered in spine-swallowing aliens.) I hate that familiarity. It's uncomfortable not knowing where it came from; makes every instinct I have scream, "Trap!" It's just as uncomfortable ignoring them.

Until it pays off, of course.

When actual outside noise reaches my ears, my feet stop so fast you could practically hear them screech. "I'm telling you, it's coming along quickly. It probably won't even be another week." A voice too quiet, distant and muffled as it is, to distinguish its owner.
"Do you mean to tell me you're ready to hold out for another week?" And another. A different person's, though if you need the pitch to tell that you're in deeper shit than I am.
"Oh, stop projecting. You always do this." An experimental step proves that I can still try to walk toward them, wherever they are.
Ignoring the first's reply, the other continues. "Look, we've been planning this for ages and we both know how ready this city is to go down the shitter. Now, answer the question. Are you really ready to 'probably' hold out for another week?"
Seconds pass voicelessly, eventually planting the suspicion that my footsteps are too loud and stopping me in my tracks. "Three days. We can spare that much, right?" At least I've been going the right way. I'm close enough now to tell it's that damn cat.
"If we're lucky," And that's...someone else. I know that voice, but I can't pin the face. "though I still don't know why you care so much."
"You wouldn't understand. You're too young." Oh, shit. Crashing sounds are never good. Especially not the kinds that send shakes through your legs.
"How many times have I told you not to bring that up?!" Not enough, clearly.
"Okay, okay! Fuck! You don't have to bust that thing out." At this point, it feels like they're on the other side of the wall. I'm not stupid enough to interrupt, petty revenge or otherwise, but eavesdropping never hurt anyone.
"...Sorry." Except that the sudden quiet demands an ear to the exposed concrete. But hey! A little scrape never hurt anyone!
"Hey, hey. It's all right. We're both stressed out, here."
"I just. I miss people, you know?" ...Huh?
"I know, hon. I know." Well, this conversation just took a very sharp turn. I almost feel bad about listening in on it. "Just three more days. I promise."
Another long pause, though less worrying this time. If someone were walking to the door, I'd definitely hear them from this distance. "All right. Just don't do anything stupid, please?"
"Hey, only stupid people do stupid things."
A heavy sigh from the mystery guest sums up my feelings quite nicely at this point. "Let's not get into that argument. I'll see you tomorrow."
"All right. Be safe." The mystery guest takes a few gargantuan (if lopsided) footsteps, and stops completely. Meanwhile, the cat walks the opposite way.

Toward me.

[ ] Bolt.
[ ] Hide.
[ ] Negotiate.
[ ] Wait. What?

---

Another short one. I need to get back into the habit of writing regularly. Probably going to try to update tomorrow, if votes allow; Friday's booked and I really do want to keep to that every two days thing.
>> No. 6294
[X] Wait. What?

A black-out option without the nigh-incomprehensible garble. Alright, I'll bite.
>> No. 6295
[x] Hide.
It seems Orin is connected with some shady shit. Three more days until they unveil their nefarious plot.
>> No. 6296
[X] Wait. What?

Utsuho and Orin are planning a revolution, but where's Satori in all this? Is she missing?
>> No. 6297
[x] Negotiate.

We came here for a confrontation, and a confrontation is what we're going to get.
>> No. 6298
[x] Hide.

Fuck and a half.
>> No. 6299
[x] Wait. What?
>> No. 6300
Write then. Off to the plotton fields.
>> No. 6301
>>6300
>Off to the plotton fields.

Hooray!
>> No. 6305
My sincerest apologies. Shortly after beginning to write on Thursday, my sister came to me teary-eyed and needing someone to talk to. As emotionally unstable as she can be, and as tired as my shoulder is from so much leaning, it's my responsibility to be there.

I'll try to finish it today.
>> No. 6312
Jesus, this is at the bump limit already? All right, new thread at >>6311.
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