storymasterb
Knight of RPGs
XVI - Alistair Blake
Jasmine Cafe
5:45 AM, Saturday 21 July
As Alistair bustled back and forth, making Jannike's coffee, he listened to the music playing on the radio half-heartedly. In truth, his thoughts were on the mysterious world which Jannike had just proven had in fact been real. What did it mean? What if from now on every time they fell asleep, they would go there and have to fight for their lives? And what if someone died there? Was it all just a strange dream, or would he see a grieving family, torn apart by a death they could know nothing about?
Subway through the dark,
Carriage through the park,
Taxi down the street,
Get out and use my feet,
Don't matter much to me,
What it is that I do,
As long as I'm comin' home to you,
Frowning slightly on the thoughts he was having, he glanced up from the coffee, back to Jannike. She was on her phone, talking to someone. He wondered if it was Carina, or the mysterious other girl. One of the others who had been there last night. Did they remember too, remember fighting so desperately? Remember the knight who had fought at their side, and the beautiful nymph who had healed their wounds?
He sighed softly. What was it all? That world, the pillar of darkness, Mordred, the nymph at Carina's side, it all made no sense. And their only lead was that cryptic message from Margaret. Watch for the door. But which door? How would they know?
Oh, oh, oh,
As far as I can see,
You're the only one,
The only one who can get to me,
Like a hijacked plane,
Or a runaway train,
Or a speeding bullet,
There's no stoppin' this,
I left my heart in Metropolis,
Picking up the completed coffee, he carried it through the tables to Jannike, setting it down on the table next to her. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to do, as she was still on her phone. Finally, he retreated back to the counter, gazing out past her onto the street. The sun was beginning to light up Misty Springs at last, banishing the shadows from between the buildings as it crested the mountain peaks around the town. Misty Springs always came out of darkness later than most places. The sun had risen at about four elsewhere, but only now did it begin to reach over even the shortest peaks to illuminate the town. Late dawn and early dusk was something the town knew well, it was a constant of their lives. In the winter, it wasn't uncommon to have perhaps six hours of direct sunlight in a day, if that.
Still, it wasn't a horrible town, he reflected. He could probably live happily here, there were nice people, and his job at the cafe wasn't particularly hard or dull. It was just...
"You aren't my son!"
His eyes darkened and he regarded the counter's black surface, drawn to the dark memories now, trying to put them aside. It had been months since the last incident. He had stayed out of the way, clinging to the house's shadows and escaping as much as he could. Getting up at five in the morning to come tend to the cafe was just normal in holidays and on weekends, it was an escape route as much as anything. It provided an equilibrium. He stayed out of the way and left his dad to his own thing. It didn't always work, but it was good enough. In any case, just another year of high school, and he could get away. Move out of the mountains, go somewhere else, somewhere new. There were cities within fifty miles, big, bustling cities full of noise and people. Full of life and new experiences. And even in the economy of the times, somewhere there'd be a job, even if the president hadn't solved everything by then, or if the other guy had come in and started a war like people said he wanted to.
Brought out of his musings, he looked back up from the counter, gaze now turning to Janna. He wondered briefly what she thought of it all. What she thought about him, the mysterious person who had taken charge the night before and fought desperately at their side. As he looked, he wondered if they might have to go back, and fight side-by-side once again. He remembered what she had said as he walked away to make her coffee.
"Heh, I think I could make a good partner too, y'know, love? I mean, I did wake up from that...not a dream...and live after all."
He smiled. Maybe, if they had to go back, they'd still endure. After all... it wasn't just them. It was Mordred too. But that puzzled him. He had reached into himself already, focusing to try and draw out what he had called on the night before. But he met resistance, the being within the sea of his soul eluding his reach. What had been so easy, if desperate on that beach was impossible in the real world. Was it something to do with that place? Would a... Persona only appear there? He could only wonder. Perhaps Margaret would have the answers, if they ever found that door and reached her once again.
IX - XVI
IX - Matthew Smith
Matt's House
5:50 AM, Saturday 21 July
Groaning as the sun pierced his blinds to stab his eyes, Matt arose. His hair was a mess, his sheets and duvet wrapped around him from his tossing and turning. As he awoke, it returned to him. The beach. Those people. The halberd. The monsters. He found himself in confusion. Had it been a vivid dream? Had it been real? He vaguely recalled those faces. Not just from the dream, but from town. He had glimpsed them through the shutters and curtains sometimes, or seen them around town before he had left, younger, but still recognizable even seven years and more later. Seven years in which so much had happened.
"Leah..." He looked to that beautiful, smiling image of her. All he had left. A pale, cold substitute for the woman he had loved so dearly, so much. It hurt to acknowledge that. That everything he had of her was nothing compared to her. Her soft, chiming laughter rang out through his memories, and he felt her kiss on his cheek, and it stabbed his heart to feel it.
"Matt! Come on, wake up, Matt! We're gonna be late for the society!"
He slumped back into his pillow.
"Aw, Matt, you messed up here. Hyperion was the Titan of Light, not Helios." She smiled dazzlingly, chuckling. "It's alright. Just keep it in mind, okay."
"Yeah, sure," he smiled. "Just a silly mistake I guess."
A sigh escaped him. It was so cold, this room. This bed. It wasn't big, made for only one person, but over time he had grown used to waking up with the warmth of her body close to his. And then one day, he had woken up and she wasn't there, and from that moment on he had been forced into a world of nightmares and pain, where the one he loved most was confined to the cold hard earth, and all he had left paled in comparison to losing her.
"Leah! Leah...!" He burst through the doors, but they were all shaking their heads and she was on the bed, so stiff so unmoving so pale. "Leah!" Wild-eyed, he looked at them, all of them, demanding answers, demanding her safety.
All he got was an apologetic silence.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved to her bedside, looking at her. The blood was soaking her skin, dying her white shirt that terrible red. The wound was visible from where the doctors had cut away her shirt to reach it, leaving only scraps of white cloth behind to be consumed in red. His gaze moved up, to her chest. His eyes fixed to her, pleading for the rise and fall which would indicate breathing. But there was nothing. Her lips were slightly parted, but no air passed through them. Her eyes were shut, her skin already so pale.
"No... please..." he gasped out, a whisper so quiet it almost seemed he were dying too.
"I'm... sorry," a doctor offered. "We did everything we could, but... it was just too late. There wasn't enough time. We're so sorry..."
He slipped down, falling to his knees, tears now beginning to fall. "Leah..." His body shook, the sobs already tearing him, heart cracking and breaking. Someone fell to his side, wrapping him in comforting arms, pulling him close, but despite their warmth all he felt was ice and pain, a spear of grief which thrust into his heart and stuck there.
He was weeping just from the memory as he rose, staggering through to the bathroom, tearing away his shirt and boxers and stumbling into the shower. Slamming the cubicle door closed, he buried himself under the burning spray, losing himself in the heat which washed over his skin, letting his tears vanish into the tide from above. He slumped against the wall, too apathetic to do much else. The memories clawed themselves up, bringing him to grief as he remembered.
"No... please..."
(The song from Alistair's portion of the post is Metropolis by Owl City, which I fully recommend, as IMO it's one of the best from his new album.)
Jasmine Cafe
5:45 AM, Saturday 21 July
As Alistair bustled back and forth, making Jannike's coffee, he listened to the music playing on the radio half-heartedly. In truth, his thoughts were on the mysterious world which Jannike had just proven had in fact been real. What did it mean? What if from now on every time they fell asleep, they would go there and have to fight for their lives? And what if someone died there? Was it all just a strange dream, or would he see a grieving family, torn apart by a death they could know nothing about?
Subway through the dark,
Carriage through the park,
Taxi down the street,
Get out and use my feet,
Don't matter much to me,
What it is that I do,
As long as I'm comin' home to you,
Frowning slightly on the thoughts he was having, he glanced up from the coffee, back to Jannike. She was on her phone, talking to someone. He wondered if it was Carina, or the mysterious other girl. One of the others who had been there last night. Did they remember too, remember fighting so desperately? Remember the knight who had fought at their side, and the beautiful nymph who had healed their wounds?
He sighed softly. What was it all? That world, the pillar of darkness, Mordred, the nymph at Carina's side, it all made no sense. And their only lead was that cryptic message from Margaret. Watch for the door. But which door? How would they know?
Oh, oh, oh,
As far as I can see,
You're the only one,
The only one who can get to me,
Like a hijacked plane,
Or a runaway train,
Or a speeding bullet,
There's no stoppin' this,
I left my heart in Metropolis,
Picking up the completed coffee, he carried it through the tables to Jannike, setting it down on the table next to her. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to do, as she was still on her phone. Finally, he retreated back to the counter, gazing out past her onto the street. The sun was beginning to light up Misty Springs at last, banishing the shadows from between the buildings as it crested the mountain peaks around the town. Misty Springs always came out of darkness later than most places. The sun had risen at about four elsewhere, but only now did it begin to reach over even the shortest peaks to illuminate the town. Late dawn and early dusk was something the town knew well, it was a constant of their lives. In the winter, it wasn't uncommon to have perhaps six hours of direct sunlight in a day, if that.
Still, it wasn't a horrible town, he reflected. He could probably live happily here, there were nice people, and his job at the cafe wasn't particularly hard or dull. It was just...
"You aren't my son!"
His eyes darkened and he regarded the counter's black surface, drawn to the dark memories now, trying to put them aside. It had been months since the last incident. He had stayed out of the way, clinging to the house's shadows and escaping as much as he could. Getting up at five in the morning to come tend to the cafe was just normal in holidays and on weekends, it was an escape route as much as anything. It provided an equilibrium. He stayed out of the way and left his dad to his own thing. It didn't always work, but it was good enough. In any case, just another year of high school, and he could get away. Move out of the mountains, go somewhere else, somewhere new. There were cities within fifty miles, big, bustling cities full of noise and people. Full of life and new experiences. And even in the economy of the times, somewhere there'd be a job, even if the president hadn't solved everything by then, or if the other guy had come in and started a war like people said he wanted to.
Brought out of his musings, he looked back up from the counter, gaze now turning to Janna. He wondered briefly what she thought of it all. What she thought about him, the mysterious person who had taken charge the night before and fought desperately at their side. As he looked, he wondered if they might have to go back, and fight side-by-side once again. He remembered what she had said as he walked away to make her coffee.
"Heh, I think I could make a good partner too, y'know, love? I mean, I did wake up from that...not a dream...and live after all."
He smiled. Maybe, if they had to go back, they'd still endure. After all... it wasn't just them. It was Mordred too. But that puzzled him. He had reached into himself already, focusing to try and draw out what he had called on the night before. But he met resistance, the being within the sea of his soul eluding his reach. What had been so easy, if desperate on that beach was impossible in the real world. Was it something to do with that place? Would a... Persona only appear there? He could only wonder. Perhaps Margaret would have the answers, if they ever found that door and reached her once again.
IX - XVI
IX - Matthew Smith
Matt's House
5:50 AM, Saturday 21 July
Groaning as the sun pierced his blinds to stab his eyes, Matt arose. His hair was a mess, his sheets and duvet wrapped around him from his tossing and turning. As he awoke, it returned to him. The beach. Those people. The halberd. The monsters. He found himself in confusion. Had it been a vivid dream? Had it been real? He vaguely recalled those faces. Not just from the dream, but from town. He had glimpsed them through the shutters and curtains sometimes, or seen them around town before he had left, younger, but still recognizable even seven years and more later. Seven years in which so much had happened.
"Leah..." He looked to that beautiful, smiling image of her. All he had left. A pale, cold substitute for the woman he had loved so dearly, so much. It hurt to acknowledge that. That everything he had of her was nothing compared to her. Her soft, chiming laughter rang out through his memories, and he felt her kiss on his cheek, and it stabbed his heart to feel it.
"Matt! Come on, wake up, Matt! We're gonna be late for the society!"
He slumped back into his pillow.
"Aw, Matt, you messed up here. Hyperion was the Titan of Light, not Helios." She smiled dazzlingly, chuckling. "It's alright. Just keep it in mind, okay."
"Yeah, sure," he smiled. "Just a silly mistake I guess."
A sigh escaped him. It was so cold, this room. This bed. It wasn't big, made for only one person, but over time he had grown used to waking up with the warmth of her body close to his. And then one day, he had woken up and she wasn't there, and from that moment on he had been forced into a world of nightmares and pain, where the one he loved most was confined to the cold hard earth, and all he had left paled in comparison to losing her.
"Leah! Leah...!" He burst through the doors, but they were all shaking their heads and she was on the bed, so stiff so unmoving so pale. "Leah!" Wild-eyed, he looked at them, all of them, demanding answers, demanding her safety.
All he got was an apologetic silence.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved to her bedside, looking at her. The blood was soaking her skin, dying her white shirt that terrible red. The wound was visible from where the doctors had cut away her shirt to reach it, leaving only scraps of white cloth behind to be consumed in red. His gaze moved up, to her chest. His eyes fixed to her, pleading for the rise and fall which would indicate breathing. But there was nothing. Her lips were slightly parted, but no air passed through them. Her eyes were shut, her skin already so pale.
"No... please..." he gasped out, a whisper so quiet it almost seemed he were dying too.
"I'm... sorry," a doctor offered. "We did everything we could, but... it was just too late. There wasn't enough time. We're so sorry..."
He slipped down, falling to his knees, tears now beginning to fall. "Leah..." His body shook, the sobs already tearing him, heart cracking and breaking. Someone fell to his side, wrapping him in comforting arms, pulling him close, but despite their warmth all he felt was ice and pain, a spear of grief which thrust into his heart and stuck there.
He was weeping just from the memory as he rose, staggering through to the bathroom, tearing away his shirt and boxers and stumbling into the shower. Slamming the cubicle door closed, he buried himself under the burning spray, losing himself in the heat which washed over his skin, letting his tears vanish into the tide from above. He slumped against the wall, too apathetic to do much else. The memories clawed themselves up, bringing him to grief as he remembered.
"No... please..."
(The song from Alistair's portion of the post is Metropolis by Owl City, which I fully recommend, as IMO it's one of the best from his new album.)