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Impossible, there is no such thing as nice. It must always be suffering.
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Nov 1, 2018 20:32
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I want to take Michel home and validate his identity and feed him soup
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Nov 1, 2018 20:58
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It sounds like he has balls? Poor guy doesn't seem to realize that no man is going to be able to fight after a regimen of starvation. Of course, I doubt he's thinking clearly due to said regimen. Are Aimee and co reincarnated as the non Michel, non Giselle tormented people in all the prior crazy town stories? (speculation, I've never played).
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Nov 2, 2018 02:17
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TheGreatEvilKing posted:It sounds like he has balls? ProfessorProf posted:
Between this and the fact that his parents (and the midwife?) mistook him for female at birth, who knows? He is intersex and identifies as male. Does it really matter how ambiguous his junk is or isn't? e: Oh, you...didn't mean in the literal sense there, did ya.  That sure is some egg on my face there. Yeah, I can respect the "fighting his way out of crazytown (or at least trying to not die to it for now)" thing.
Skylight fucked around with this message at 05:16 on Nov 2, 2018 |
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Nov 2, 2018 04:07
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Is it true that you don’t have...
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I mean dude's trying to fight his way out of crazytown. You gotta respect that.
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Nov 2, 2018 04:08
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 BGM: Manita  Did you need something, Georges? Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that. Do I have to “need something” to talk to you? N-No, but you looked like you were in an unusually good mood, so I thought... Well, why wouldn’t I be? It’s a wonderfully gloomy day out! ... I would understand if it were clear out... but can you really say it’s “wonderfully” gloomy? Well, you can’t be outside for very long when it’s not cloudy, so in our case, this is perfect weather. Ah... What do you say we go for a little stroll, while we can? Dee’s around today too, so we can see if he’s up for it. It’ll be like old times. We’ve been running around like headless chickens lately, so we haven’t had much of a chance for a sibling outing. We’ll have Mom make us a lunch, and then —  Ooh, we’ll take a couple horses up to the forest’s edge! I-I’m fine with that if you are. You bet your bum I am. I asked, after all! Now c’mon, let’s go!  Yepyep. Hop on a couple horses and head for the forest. We haven’t done this in a while, so I figured why not. I see. Well, if Michelle is coming, I see no reason to say no. Let’s set off right away. Whoa, whoa, slow down there. Are you saying you wouldn’t go if it was just me? It’s Michelle or nothing? Of course. Why on earth would I want to go horse-riding alone with you? I would rather drown myself. LE GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASP! Um, Didier... could I, perhaps, make a small request? Go on, let’s hear it. Do you mind if I... hold the horse’s reins? Oh, that’s all? By all means. I’ll be there behind you to make sure nothing happens, so have at it. But do be warned, my horse is a bit temperamental. If you’re not gentle, he’ll start getting moody with you. I doubt that will be a problem for you, though, Michelle. I’ll be careful.  Haha... look at that, Michelle. Georges is still fumbling around all the way back there. Are we going a bit too fast? No, no, you’re fine. That you were able to get past that so quickly is proof of your talent. ... Ahhh, finally caught up! This isn’t a race, y’know! Why can’t we enjoy the scenery, indulge in some nice pathos? A warrior and his horse need not of pathos! Isn’t that right, Michelle? It certainly is, Didier. C’mon, you guuuuys! Be nice! This was my idea! You’ve really taken after ol’ Dee, haven’t you, Michelle... I, for one, would rather see you admiring flowers or dancing with butterflies or gazing out at a beautiful sunset or enjoying poetry! More pathos, my dear sister, and less barbarism! Longswords, suits of armor, and tales of heroic knights are so much more appealing, though. You’ve let him get his claws in too deep, Michelle! Oh dear, oh my, I’m going to have two meathead siblings before I know it! ...What did you just call me? N-Now, now, you two. Why don’t we stop here for a picnic? Seconded! My stomach’s been rumblin’ up a storm! I took a few bites earlier ’cause I was about to die back there! I hope your horse throws you into a river! A... cat? Yep. Speckled from head to tail and ugly as a witch’s arse! I was gonna keep it in my room, but Mom flipped when she saw it. “Keep that filthy thing out of my house!” Wish there was something we could do about how much of a clean freak she is. Georges... try not to stress Mother too much. You’re unpredictable enough as it is. It would be nice, though... To have a cat, I mean. Y’think so? Then how ’bout this — we’ll keep it in the courtyard! I’ll feed it on days when it’s clear, and you can do it when it’s cloudy, Michelle. I... don’t know what cats eat, though. Mmm, I bet he’d like pastries. Do you want to kill the cursed thing?! I cannot approve of anyone taking care of an animal who thinks that’s a good idea! S-Sorry... Oh, pull the stick outta yer arse, Dee. Life’s all about experimentation. Live and learn. Don’t experiment on animals! Well, if you’re gonna be like that, how ’bout you help out too? You can keep an eye on us and make sure we don’t do anything stupid. Wha — Now you’re trying to drag me into this?! Already done! You’re in! It’s settled! Dammit, Georges! Now we need to come up with a name. Have any ideas, Michelle? Wha — Y-You want me to name it? Not very often you get to give another living thing a name! Well, I guess you might have a few more chances down the road. Consider this practice. ... Something elegant and beautiful! You’ve got this! Uhh... Now, Georges. Don’t put so much pressure on her. You have a point, though... it is a good opportunity. Don’t stress too much about it, Michelle. Just choose something you like. ... Um... you said the cat was speckled and ugly? Yep. One look and you’ll be laughing so hard you can’t breathe. ... All right, then... ... ... ... Er, that’s its name?! It would seem you do not have a future in the arts, Michelle... B-But you said it was ugly and speckled, Georges! I did, yes! You could have tried a little harder than that, though! But y’know, why not? Uglyspeckles it is, ahaha! It’s actually kinda charming when you say it out loud. Ahaha... pfffft, Uglyspeckles! I-It’s not that funny! Heh, haha... It is quite something, indeed... The more I think about it, the more I...! Not you too, Didier! Ahaha... We should bring Uglyspeckles on our next outing! Sitting together beneath the clouds, having lunch. That we should. When Michelle’s gotten a little bigger, let’s do this again — the three of us and our ugly, speckled cat. You said it. We’re all good friends here, after all. I’ve never been your friend, though. God, must you always be such a jerk?! Hahaha... ... BGM: Necto Nédio  was Aimee telling the truth...? Do you really think... I’m nothing but trouble? Do you think I’ve lost my mind...? That I’m a demon child...? Didier... Georges... why do you not open this door for me... and let me out? Were the things I said that day... really so heinous? Do you resent me too... like Aimee...? Didier... Georges... How do you... think about me now...? Is this body... really so unusual? ...If I hadn’t undergone the transformation I did... would things still have been the way they were before? Would we be able to go out to that forest again and make silly, meaningless conversation, everyone laughing like we had then? If this body hadn’t changed the way it did, would I not be trapped in this darkness? ...Even if that were the case... I didn’t want to be a girl. If God descended from Heaven and offered to change me back, I would have turned Him down. Because inside... I wasn’t a girl. And my nightmare at Aimee’s hands didn’t end there, either. As much as I loathed to admit it... I was terrified of her. Every day, I dreaded the sound of the door opening. However, if I were to block the door off with furniture, I would lose my only remaining lifeline. I had no choice in the matter.   I brought your favorite — parsnips. Well, what the dogs didn’t eat of them, anyway. But you don’t mind, do you? I need you to stay very still. You wouldn’t want my hands to slip. So to make sure you do... I’m tying you up. This way, you can’t accidentally move. Hmm? It’s murky? Oh, heavens me, I must have fetched it from the washbasin by mistake. I brought you parsnips again. Don’t worry, the dogs didn’t have any of these. They didn’t seem to be interested in eating them raw. What, you don’t want any? Hmm... then what am I going to do with these? you’re such a disgrace. Cry for me, won’t you? Beg for mercy. Ahaha... Look at you, all that pride... gone out the window. It’s hilarious, I tell you. To be honest, it was rather impressive — in a sick way — how she was able to come up with so many different ways to torment me. And she knew precisely what caused me the most pain: my body, and the discrepancy between what I was and what I felt I was. She delighted in telling me I wasn’t male. And sometimes... in showing me... But I don’t think I need to describe the things she did to me in any more detail. I could think of only one way to keep myself from breaking down: I completely stopped talking, stopped struggling. Then, one day, after about six months or so, she said with a disinterested sigh,  And that was the last of it. By swallowing my pride and not resisting, I was able to escape from her grip. Once she was gone, the servants took over attending to me again. I was still imprisoned, but now there was a serenity in my solitude. I didn’t speak with anyone. I didn’t make eye contact. I didn’t do anything. I just lived. But even though I had peace, I still feared Aimee having a change of heart. I trembled at the possibility that one day it might be her that opened the door. But above all, I hated — despised the fact that I lived in such fear of a girl. An overwhelming self-loathing threatened to crush me. I had recurring nightmares about the things Aimee had done to me. The wounds she gave me did not heal; they only grew worse, eating away at me day after day. I was beginning to lose confidence in my own sanity in the silent darkness, where there was no sense of time. The line between dream and reality blurred. I often found myself screaming, crying into the empty air. I clawed at my skin. Pulled out my hair. Paced back and forth across the room. Pounded at the door, yelling for help. Screamed some more. It was the very image of pitiful. Absolute wretchedness. And every time I did, I’m sure there was someone on the other side of that door, whispering about how poor Michelle had lost her mind. Eventually... I gave up entirely.  BGM: The Bollinger House Heavy rain pounded against the windows like thousands of little spears. I was sitting quietly on my bed, unable to fall asleep, when suddenly, there was a loud banging on the door.  If you aren’t, then hurry up and get awake! We’ve got big trouble! Lower your damned voice! But — ! When I first heard my brothers’ voices after so long, I thought I was hallucinating. In two years, they had never once come for me, no matter how hard I pounded on the door, no matter how many times I called for them. And after all that time, I didn’t expect that to ever change. I had given up. Assumed they had long since cast me aside. Unable to bring myself to say anything, I simply stared at the door, Please say something, Michel. Seriously, there’s no time. ... You can hear us in there, can’t you? You’re there behind the door, aren’t you? C’mon, just one word, Michel! ... Is it... really you, Didier, Georges? ... ...For a moment, they seemed to be at a loss for words. Probably because they almost didn’t recognize my voice. But it was only a heartbeat. And then, Didier spoke,  ...Why? Because... Because Dad’s talking crazy! He’s saying the Bollinger family has no need for a demon child! That you’re a mark of shame on our name! So he’s going to have you executed! Georges! Father... wants me... dead?It felt like the floor had fallen out from under me. Executed? Demon child? Mark of shame? So he was saying... I didn’t even deserve to live anymore? It’s planned for tomorrow morning! We only just found out ourselves, which is why... You prepared a way... for me to escape? But why...? Why? Do you even need to ask? Because we’re family. Something terrible has gotten into Father. ...I clenched my teeth, fighting back a bitter, angry sigh. But I couldn’t keep all those emotions bottled up for long. A maelstrom of feelings I thought I had lost in my two years of imprisonment swirled up inside me, spilling from my lips. Why...? ... If you really felt that way, then why didn’t you come sooner?! Two years I spent locked in this room... Do you have any idea how I felt in that time?! ... Any idea how hard I had to fight to endure, how many times I cried for your help?! How hard I pounded on the door, begging to be set free?! But never... never once did you come! Not even once! Michel... I scare you, don’t I? You think I’ve gone insane... that I’ve lost my mind... that I sold my soul to the Devil, don’t you?! N-No, Michel... We don’t... Then why?! Why didn’t you come and set me free?! ... Michel... I — no, we... don’t think you’ve lost your mind at all... So you didn’t want to see me, then. You didn’t want to face what I’d become. Tell me I’m wrong, Didier, Georges... You left me here... abandoned me... for two whole years... Locked me away so you didn’t have to see me. And Didier’s a knight now, y’know? So he’s up to his neck in expeditions... ... I’m really sorry... ... ...As am I. I cannot... say that you are wrong. ... After... what happened, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act around you. I’m still not sure... even now... I knew... I had to find the time to collect myself... but I kept putting it off. Vainly hoping that time would take care of it all. ... And for that, I owe you an apology. But you need to understand... I do not agree with Father’s decision. I do not want to lose you. I don’t think... you’re a demon child. And Georges feels the same. Neither of us want to see you dead. Wh-What he said, Michel! There’s not much time! We need to get you out of here!I bit down hard on my lower lip — hard enough to draw blood. It was that... or start sobbing. It’s a little late for that... Michel... I-If you don’t get out of here, you’re going to be killed! ... If I’m not an angel sent from Heaven... or a demon child... then what am I? What on earth am I? What are you? You’re... You’re... a Bollinger. You’re our family. And that’s all there is to it. I pray... you can forgive me for averting my eyes for so long... ... ...Can I trust you? Can I trust that even if the whole world says I’m cursed... that you’ll always be on my side... that you’ll always be my brothers? Can I put my trust in you once more... Didier, Georges? A-And I swear to the god of art! ... Michel... I have no other choice, do I? I couldn’t talk Father out of it, could I? ...I would rather you didn’t try. He is not a man to change his mind. If you were to show up before him... he would likely draw his sword on you himself. It would destroy Mother. I’m sorry... We’re not doing this only for you... ... Okay. I’ll go. Oh, thank goodness! The carriage will take you to a mansion, Michel. It’s a property Father purchased some time ago, but due to rumors about the house, it’s abandoned. No one wants to buy it from him either, and that’s unlikely to change. It’s the ideal place to keep you out of sight. ...What kinds of rumors? W-Well, um... No point in keepin’ it a secret. He has a right to know. A witch...? I think it’s all just made up, personally. I went to check the place out, and there was no one there. It was... a little dreary, to be sure... ... I had hoped to have a better place arranged for you, but there wasn’t enough time. This is only temporary, Michel. I cannot say how long it will be, but Father will pass away eventually. When he does, Georges will inherit the estate. And that will mean you can return. So I ask... that you hold out until that time. If I don’t leave, I’m going to be executed. So send me anywhere. I won’t complain. I’m glad to hear you say that... I will talk to Father... and ensure he does not suspect anything. We’ll make this work, don’t you worry. The long and short of it is, Dad simply wants you erased from the family. Georges! ... Ah, uh, sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean... But anywho, once I take over, we’re in the clear. You’ll be acknowledged as a Bollinger. I see... Okay, then. Can I open the door now? Just a minute. Hwuh? You’re still not ready?! I don’t... have any clothing. Ah... right. You wouldn’t, huh. How... tall are you now, Michel? Around... the same height as you, I think. You’re taller than me?! drat! All right. I’ll bring you some of my clothes. ...Thank you. Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say “thank you” without putting up a fight, Michel. That’s not true... I don’t think? Haha... I’ll be back soon. Get what you need together. ...All right.
Quinn2win fucked around with this message at 14:41 on Nov 5, 2018 |
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Nov 5, 2018 03:13
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Alopex posted:What if something nice happened for a change? Well there you go. At least half an update of something nice. Sacrificial Toast fucked around with this message at 16:39 on Nov 5, 2018 |
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Nov 5, 2018 08:08
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This nice update just fills me with dread instead. drat you, THiFM.
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Nov 5, 2018 14:57
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I noticed Didier calling Michel 'he', and it made me smile. Can't wait to see which brother betrays Michel! EDIT: Oh also, Necto Nedio is a really good piece of music for the scene setting of someone losing their goddamn mind due to persistent abuse and solitary confinement.
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Nov 10, 2018 05:23
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Michel's apparent dislike of Parsnips became a lot less funny with what we learn.
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Nov 10, 2018 05:43
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Man, poor guy can't catch a break. Someone is gonna jump him or something aren't they?
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Nov 10, 2018 05:49
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PetraCore posted:EDIT: Oh also, Necto Nedio is a really good piece of music for the scene setting of someone losing their goddamn mind due to persistent abuse and solitary confinement. I've always called it the "rape music" thanks to the other scene in which it was previously used. That name is still quite applicable here.
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Nov 10, 2018 06:01
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 BGM: Don't Say "Adieu" I hadn’t seen them in two years, but they hardly looked any different than how I remembered them. I was the only one who had changed — and dramatically, at that.  Looking at them, I couldn’t help but remember the old days. Playing chess with Didier. Learning to draw from Georges. Our sibling outings. However, the ominous sound of thunder crashing in the distance drowned out those memories.  The mansion is several days’ travel from here. Hopefully the carriage isn’t too uncomfortable. ... I will send a package with any supplies you need once a month. Food, clothing... and, hmm, something to pass the time... ... If there’s anything you want, Michel, just tell me. Now, or you can have a servant pass a message on to me. I can’t think of — Actually, wait, I can think of one thing. I would like a chess set... All right. I’ll have one made — I would rather have... yours, Didier. Would that be possible...? Are you sure you want that beaten old thing? ...Yes, I want that one. ...All right, then. I’ll include it in the first delivery. I’ll send you something too, Michel. Anything you want, just tell me. ...In that case... I would like some art tools. I’m nowhere near as much of an artist as you are, Georges, so they don’t have to be anything special. Gotcha. So some canvas and, hmm... how ’bout some charcoal? And when you’re back, I want to see what you’ve made with it, okay? Okay. So... I can’t talk to anybody but the servants? ...Put simply, yes. Tomorrow, the world will consider you dead, so we cannot have people finding out you are actually alive. Especially Father. Please do this for me. I’ve been doing that for two years already. I’ve long since lost interest in interacting with anybody, so you don’t need to ask me to keep to myself. R-Right... ... Does... anyone else know I am alive? Yes. Mother knows. In fact... this was her idea. It was...? She loves you, Michel. She really does. Mom just... y’know, is having a little trouble facing the truth. So even though she’s not here to see you off, I guarantee you she doesn’t want to see you dead. She wants to have you in her life again. ... I expect Mother will be writing you. So please, take the time to write her back. She’s a... troubled woman, but her love for you is true and unwavering. ... Will you do that? Just a quick little, “Hey, got your letter, doin’ great,” ’ll suffice. ...All right. ... But as long as he lives, his word is God in this house. I... understand that, yes. Well, you never know, he could be gone quicker than you expect. Week from now and bam, he’s dead as Dee’s social life. Is there not an ounce of respect in your body? Oh, gimme a break. I’m upset. He’s gone way too far. ... And once he’s dragged his arse off to the great beyond, anything goes. “Surprise! Michel was alive!” Yeah... I suppose... Until then, we’ll take care of things here. Tomorrow’s gonna be the performance of our lives. Cryin’ like a couple o’ big babies and laughing our tails off inside. You’ll forgive me if I have trouble trusting that loose tongue of yours. Pssh, I’m not stupid. I know this is important. Not even Aimee’ll suspect a thing. Aimee... Yeah, not even she can know. It’s gonna crush her, I’m sure, but the less people who know, the better.When Georges said her name, my whole body went shamefully cold. It had been a year and a half since the hell she’d put me through, but every last detail of it remained carved into my mind and body. There was no way she would be even slightly sad about my death. She might act it, but she would almost certainly be elated by the news. It seemed Georges had still yet to see what lay beneath that woman’s mask. I know you two were close... Huh...? Are you worried about how this might affect her? ...What? She cared for you for about six months, didn’t she? When you wouldn’t let the servants in. Wha — From what I hear, you got real close to dying in there. You wouldn’t even eat unless she was there. Wha — ?! I-Is that not what happened? Did something happen between you two, Michel? Aimee... Aimee didn’t do a drat — ... Never... Never mind... ...? (I can’t tell them... I can’t put what I went through into words... It will only worsen my shame...) (Especially not in front of my brothers...) Georges... how are things between you and Aimee? You still letting what happened two years ago get to you? Well, I mean, at the time, things were a total disaster. I’m all excited about getting myself a pretty little wife, only to find out she’s rockin’ the boat with someone else. I cried for weeks. Urgh... Um, yeah... I’m sorry... Deep down, though, she ain’t actually a bad girl. She’s young, and kids make mistakes. After it all came out, she turned over a new leaf. She started doting on me somethin’ serious, and well, it’s hard not to let one little mistake like that go when she’s trying so hard to make up with me. The age excuse doesn’t work for Dee, though. ... For about a year, things were really rough between us. I didn’t even want to look at him. But at the end of the day, we’re family. We can get past anything. ... ’Sides, because you let the cat outta the bag, that gave me something to hold over Dee. All things considered, I’m not complaining. ... So... you would say you’re happy, then, Georges? Sure would, yep. Believe it or not, I’m kinda head over heels for her. Hard not to like a girl like Aimee. ... Oh, I see... Do you really feel that bad about two years ago? ... (No one else knows... she’s actually a sadistic, cackling demon...) (There’s nothing less trustworthy in the world... than a woman who’s always smiling.) (But if Georges thinks he’s happy... I can’t take that away from him.) Michel? Oh... right, yes. I do feel guilty about the way I lost control of my emotions and took it out on you guys... It happens to everyone. In fact, you could stand to do a little more shouting and fussing. Then you could — Because I have “underdeveloped social skills”? Y-You heard that?! You’ve got one helluva nasty streak, huh, Dee. Rgh... I’m glad to hear... you’re still on good terms. It wasn’t my intention to pit the two of you against each other. We know. The blame falls on my shoulders. ... I want you to know something, Michel. Though your transformation was too much for Mother and Father to accept... with enough time, everything will go back to the way it was before — just like it did for myself and Georges. None of this is your fault. It was all unfortunate timing. God’s a little bit of a jerk too. Try not to forget I am a knight, Georges. ...In time? In time. Speaking of which, we don’t have much left. I’m going to tell the coachman to set off, okay? Didier. Yes? Tell me the truth — will the three of us... ever meet again? Why would you ever ask that? Of course we will. Not a chance I’m letting this be our last family get-together. ... One last question, then... Yes? Am I... ... Well, I mean, look at ya. Don’t look like much of a sister to me. So yeah, I’d say you are. I... I see... So long, then. Farewell. And may good health bless you until we meet again. Until then, Michel. ...Farewell. The warmth I felt in their arms — in my family’s arms — slowly spread through my chilled body, which made it that much more difficult to part ways. The wheels of the carriage rattled against the wet, stone-paved road. I stuck my head out the window, watching as they shrunk into the distance, standing there in the rain until they were completely out of view. A tightness filled my breast. Every glimmer of hope I had for my new life... was matched by an equal degree of darkness and uncertainty. Would I ever make it back home? And if I did, would people still call me a demon child? Having to write Mother was another uncomfortable weight on my soul. The thought of having to play a girl for her... made me sick. Georges had acted like it would be nothing, but it wasn’t that easy. It was more than mere pretend. Didier had said that, with time, things would change. But how could he be certain that those changes would be for the better? The wooden wheels turned, carrying me away to that cursed mansion...
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Nov 12, 2018 03:49
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Wow, I didn't realize there were version differences between the official soundtrack and the in game music! I'm so used to just listening to the soundtrack on YouTube, I forgot what the original versions sounded like.
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Nov 12, 2018 06:07
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 BGM: Close My World Darkness cuffs my hands and legs, restricting my movement. Images of the past I had kept buried away for so long stream past me. This isn’t how I wanted it to happen. Not coming from my own mouth, but being laid bare for all to see without my consent. That wasn’t how I wanted her to find out about my secret. About my shameful history.   If you had simply let it be, you wouldn’t be here now, forced to relive it all. Now do you understand? The tale I spun behind the fourth door... was as much for you as it was for her. There, you were a young man with a sad fate, but you met a wonderful woman, fell in love with her, and then died in the arms of tragedy. The sequence of events is not far from the truth, but I was able to turn it into something enchanting and beautiful. I got rid of all the nasty little details — your ugliness, your body troubles, all of that. ... Doesn’t it seem a bit unfair, Michel? You tore down the walls around Giselle’s heart, around her past, but you wanted to keep your own nice and safe and hidden away. ... She has every right to be upset. ... You were afraid she wouldn’t accept you, were you not? ... And that’s precisely what happened. ... But can you honestly blame her? The truth you’ve kept hidden away is not something most would be able to accept. The prince who came riding in to save her — Silence! Ngh... please... Enough... I’ve seen enough... Let it stay buried, please! Just stop this! I don’t want to see it! I don’t want anything to do with it! What a sad little creature you are, my dear. Not a woman in this world would have any interest in you now. You’ve surrounded yourself with layer upon layer of walls — covered yourself with this patchwork, barely-held-together quilt of masks, and it’s the only thing keeping you together. You’re the frailest one of all — the weakest. And it’s about time you accepted that and stopped trying to fight it. ...I... am not... weak... Oh, is that so? Let’s proceed with the tale, then, shall we? Face the one you hate most in this world — yourself. Your weakness. Your ugliness. Face it and despair. — ! Ah, aaahh...! N — Don’t — ! Once again, my own desires, my own wishes are completely irrelevant. The past sprawls out before me once more. And the witch is exactly right. I despise the man I was then, teeming with vain hope and foolish dreams. I would rather pretend that part of me never existed. But I have no choice. I’m dragged back into the life I once lived, my pleas for mercy fading into dark nothingness.  BGM: Hex We’d long since left paved roads behind. The carriage rocked back and forth as it proceeded down the rough dirt path. For hours, I stared through the window as unfamiliar scenery flowed past. Eventually, a fog settled over the area, making it difficult to discern night from day. We made our way through dark, dense woods, and beyond them, like the world fading into view after a dream, a mansion appeared before us.  Briefly, I thought they had possibly been sealed to keep anyone from seeing me inside, but my coming here was a very recent development. More likely, then, the house had been in this condition when it was initially purchased. Quite the piece of property my father had found himself with. I wondered if he had been swindled by its previous owner. It was a gloomy, uninviting place, but it didn’t appear to be in disrepair. The coachman left my luggage outside the door, gave me an empty farewell, and then went on his way. I was... entirely alone. ...I spent some time just staring out at the forest, but naturally, there was nothing of interest to be found there. So I quietly turned around and opened the door to the mansion.  I could barely even see my own feet. Briefly, I considered trying to unshutter a window or two, but ended up deciding against it. The less inviting the place looked, the easier it would be for me to avoid contact with the outside world, as Didier had recommended. Standing there in the darkness for several minutes, my eyes gradually grew accustomed to the lack of light. While it was hardly ideal, it was sufficient to take a look around the house. The inside didn’t seem to have received the same level of care as the outside — everything was dusty and the air was many years stale. But I wasn’t in a cleaning mood, so I dug through my luggage for a bundle of candles, lighting one with a flint. A... stained-glass window...? The archangel — after whom I had been named — looked solemnly down upon me. Quite the joke...Two columns of evenly spaced pews ran the length of the room, all facing the multicolored window. I set the candlestick on a podium of some sort, which is when I realized — ...This is a chapel.A flat length of silver, bent in the middle, was mounted to the pulpit’s face. When I saw it, I knew exactly what it used to be: a cross. The pews weren’t facing the stained glass, but the cross. Why, though? It felt as though the mansion had been built up around the chapel, rather than the opposite. I was perplexed as to why anyone would do that — ...— but of course, there was no one around to sate my curiosity. Taking the candlestick back in hand, I made my way beyond the pulpit.  I pressed one hand against the cool surface, and my heart leapt. It was abnormally cold. Though the door itself seemed perfectly normal, an inexplicable anxiety spread through me. It was a very unusual sensation. My instincts told me I should stay far, far away, and my heart told me it was my duty to see what lay beyond. What am I going to find back there?After a few moments’ hesitation, I decided to act in opposition to my instincts. I was looking at a long spiral staircase. The wooden stairs stretched so high I couldn’t tell where they ended. An observation tower... perhaps?As if being pushed forward by some inhuman force, I mounted the staircase.  Through one such window, I gazed outside, and far off in the distance, beyond the seemingly endless ocean of trees, I saw a small village. ... (Nowhere I’m ever going to go.) ... So many stairs...It had been quite some time since I had exerted myself this much. I hardly had any opportunity locked away in my chambers. With every step I took, I could hear my joints creaking and my muscles screaming. I was long since out of breath, only staying upright with the help of the wall. Nrg... haaahh... (This is pitiful... Dammit...) ...But turning back never occurred to me. I had to keep climbing. Had to make it to the top. And it was that feeling of necessity that pushed my exhausted body upward. ... ... Hahh, nnh...By the time I reached the top, I was practically gasping for air. Sweat streamed down my forehead. I wiped it aside, turning my gaze toward yet another door. But unlike the first — What on earth...?— a tangle of rope covered the surface. Layers upon layers of it, making its intent abundantly clear: nothing shall come in or out. It didn’t look like it had been put there recently either, as much of it was rotted through. Out of curiosity, I grabbed at the coil and yanked. The rope snapped in several places, chunks falling limply to the floor. That wasn’t enough to allow the door to open, though. ...People only sealed doors like this for a reason. Largely because they didn’t want — or couldn’t allow — others to see what hid behind them. Like... what they did to me... If it hadn’t been this man, but someone else standing there, would they have turned back at the sight of the sealed-off door, acting as though nothing was there? Or would they have done as I did? I ground my teeth, a mix of annoyance and bitterness rushing through me. But I did not hesitate. I held the flame of the candle up to the wall of rope, careful not to set the whole thing ablaze, slowly, carefully burning through them one by one. It was repetitive and time-consuming, but I persisted, wiping away sheets of sweat before it streamed into my eyes. The sun was well on its way down before I finally managed to expose the door. I took a deep breath, looked up at it, and gulped. There was something indescribably chilling about the door. And then, I pushed it open.  A single ray of sunlight shone into the room, coming from a single window sitting high atop the wall. It cast a milky-white patch of light on the hard floor, revealing — ...— the fact that I was not alone. The rumors say... a witch lives in the mansion...There I saw — In this cursed house... A cursed mansion for a cursed man. It was like I was destined to end up here. I had no way of finding out who the skeleton belonged to, so I left it there, at the top of the tower, and retreated into thought. BGM: Desolation  I wondered to myself... how had the one-armed person died? How had they felt, locked in that room, staring up at that sole window, so far out of reach? About the only thing they would have seen was the sky and the occasional bird. Had they yearned for more light, or had they come to despise the tiny patch of it that trickled into the room? Had they been some sort of wicked criminal, imprisoned for wrongdoing? Not all prisoners are necessarily bad people.Having been branded with a nonexistent “curse,” I couldn’t help but think that perhaps something similar had happened to whoever they were. Vainly reaching out for the sun. Constantly praying for rescue that would never come. What had gone through their mind as they withered away? ...Would anyone ever come for me? Would my brothers keep their word? Or would I, years from now, end up another pile of dry bones somewhere in this house? Unwanted and alone. Robbed of all hope, with no one but the darkness to talk to as it sunk its teeth deeper and deeper into me. That corpse could be me in the future. Didier... Georges... did you really send me here to keep me hidden? Or is this... to be my grave? Can I put my faith in you? Can I trust you when you say I’ll be able to return? That everyone will happily accept me, that we’ll all be together again, that we’ll play chess, that we’ll draw pictures, that nobody will be left out?All I really wanted was for people to accept me for who I was. To accept that I was a man — no, that I had grown to resemble a man. That I had the heart of a man. I didn’t need anything else. I didn’t want to cause anyone anguish. I didn’t want to hate anyone. I simply wished to be who I was — no, who I wanted to be. And I didn’t want to be treated like I was strange or different.  ... Didier... Georges... I pray that you can be that for me...Lurking quietly in the mansion’s all-encompassing darkness, I waited and hoped that the day might arrive when I could come out of hiding. However, one, two, three years later, I had still not been set free. Only my mother wrote me, and in all her letters, she said the same thing:  When your curse is broken, I want you back in my life. When your curse is broken, everything will be back to normal. I wait expectantly... for the day you are free of that terrible curse. The “curse” would never be broken, though. What I was now was what I was meant to be. All that time I had spent as a girl — none of that was real. Didier had said he didn’t think I was cursed. My brothers didn’t think I was some hellish demon child. So no, the curse would never be broken, because there was no curse to break. I wasn’t cursed at all... There was no damned curse... But the flow of time eroded away at me — slowly killing any confidence I had once had. Sucking me dry of all trust — for others, and myself. With enough time, I started questioning my own beliefs about what I was — started thinking that perhaps I was cursed. Much like they had at the Bollinger estate, the servant who came by every month did his best to avoid making eye contact. But beyond just bringing me food, he was also checking in on me — and making sure I didn’t attempt to run away. And every month, he probably went back and told Mother the same thing: that my curse had still not been broken.  If you do... I ask of you to guide me. To please tell me what I am... If I truly am cursed... And perhaps... you could tell me how much my soul weighs too. ... Probably not very much...I spent enough time alone in that dark mansion to drive anyone mad. The more time that passed, the more I grew to question myself — my worth as a human being. And whenever the self-doubt and -loathing became too much to take... I trekked up to the top of the observation tower to see the light. Sitting there on the hard floor, I would place my hand on the skeleton’s leg, its shoulder, its hand. From the size of the bones, whoever it was appeared to have still been young when their life withered away.  Even I feel blessed... compared to you. Oh, how miserable it must have been, locked away up in this tower... To have your arm mercilessly severed... You have my pity, though. I alone shall mourn your death... And I alone shall take comfort in your presence... You poor, poor child...By pretending to pity someone who had had it worse than me, I was able to feel somewhat better about myself. Because if I was in a position to pity someone else... then, conversely, I wasn’t in a position to be pitied. Vainly, foolishly trying to convince myself of a lie, I spent hours, days alone in that tower, holding the dry bones in my arms. Now there was a sight to lend credence to my alleged madness. Over time, the air in the mansion seemed to thicken, as if the fog were condensing. Water pushed out all the air, swallowing me up, suffocating me. A putrid mire. I was trapped at the bottom of this thick, black sludge. Soon, I lost track of the passage of time, my only landmarks being the dates on Mother’s letters. Before I knew it, eight years had passed.  I hadn’t heard my own voice in so long I had almost forgotten what it sounded like. There was a delivery that day, but it wasn’t the usual package. The servant was instead carrying a large, rectangular object draped in cloth. Shoving that into my hands, he said, “The regular supplies will be here in a couple days,” and then ran off. ...Presumably, he was afraid to spend any more time than necessary with a cursed man. But I didn’t bother to say anything about it. I knew it was a waste of breath. And I was not inclined to hold it against him if he didn’t want to look me in the eye — to exchange words. All I could reasonably do was sit back and bear it. As long as I kept my mouth shut, the man could do his job in peace. ...By the candlelight, I began unwrapping the package the servant had delivered. From within, a sheet of parchment fell to the floor. And inside the package was a painting. ...?Just looking at it, I couldn’t tell what it was — aside from the fact that it was a portrait of a woman. I knew those brush strokes, though. They were very distinctly Georges’s. The woman depicted had white hair. White... hair...There was a flash — a fresh jolt of the pain that had nearly faded away.  BGM: Portrait of White No, Georges... You didn’t...My whole body froze. The blood in my veins came to a halt. I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning in a pool of imaginary water. I crouched down to pick up the sheet of parchment. It was a letter, in Mother’s handwriting. The first line read, as it did in all her correspondence,  Every day, I pray that your curse might be broken. But lately, I have come to think that perhaps the reason you remain cursed is because you have forgotten what you are supposed to be. So long you have spent in that accursed form, it is little surprise you would lose sight of yourself. How can you return to your true self if you do not even remember what that is? So I asked Georges to paint you a picture, hoping it might help you break free of your curse. You are a beautiful young woman, my dear Michelle. I presume you have already seen the painting. It’s lovely, wouldn’t you agree? That flowing white hair... and skin like glass. Those deep, enchanting red eyes. Those slender fingers and modest, feminine frame. Those soft lips. It is not you when you were younger, though. Instead... I had him imagine what you would look like now. That is what you will look like when your curse is broken. Isn’t that wonderful? Imagine it. Envision yourself — your true self. Remember who you are. Recall your true self. I wait eagerly until the day you come back to me, looking as beautiful as you do in this painting, my dear, sweet Michelle. This is you. This is the real you. You are beautiful, my little girl, and I love you dearly. That awful fuss all those years ago — we can pretend none of that ever happened. Forget all about the dreadful thing that curse made you. Become the girl you used to be — the girl you were meant to be — so we can once more be a happy family. I am waiting. Forever waiting for you.   The letter ended there, leaving me with the woman in the painting staring back at me. Her eyes seeming to insist that I was not me. That she was the real me, and I was nothing more than a fraud. Laughing at me. Scoffing at me for ever thinking I was anything but female. Mocking me for stubbornly insisting I wanted to be a man. The pain in my chest swelled, spilling from my mouth in grunts and moans. Ngh... rgh... nrgh...!And then — GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!— I screamed from the bottom of my lungs. Why?! Why, why, whyyyy?!I yanked at my hair. WHY, GEORGES?!Slammed the painting against the floor.  So why?! Why would you do this to me?! You said yourself that you didn’t think I was cursed! You acknowledged me as your brother! You know this isn’t me! So why?! Why would you make this?! I’ve been waiting for so long! I put my trust in you and Didier! I trusted you...! I believed you would always support me! Was that... all a lie?! Deep down, you really think I’m cursed, just like Mother! And that’s why you haven’t written to me! Why you haven’t answered any of my letters! Where did my faith get me? Why did you even... help me escape? Was it all... for show? Was my “execution” just a lie... an excuse for you to send me somewhere far away? Well, was it?! Tell me, Georges! Tell me the truth! What about you, Didier?! Where do you stand?! Aah... aaaah... aaaaaaaaaaaahh... No, this isn’t real...My voice was getting hoarse. I didn’t have the strength to hold it in, and everything came spilling out of me. Squeezed out by the phantom water. And the white-haired girl in the painting just stared back at me, smiling. I bit down on my lip as hard as I could. A metallic taste spread through my mouth, drops of blood trickling to the floor. Pulling the knife I used to open the monthly deliveries from my waistband, I lifted it high into the air, gathering what remained of my strength —  — and slashed the woman’s face with it. This isn’t me! This isn’t me! I am not this woman! I am a man!Carved into it — This is not how I look!— with everything I had. Don’t — Don’t try to erase who I really am! Don’t call me repulsive! Don’t say I’m an abomination!I tore into that smile, contempt surging from every slash. This woman... isn’t real!I wanted to curse the whole damned world. Every last thing. This wretched mire that had become of my life. My brothers, for happily going about their lives as I suffered here in the darkness. My delusional mother, for refusing to acknowledge who I was. My father, for trying to have me killed. Aimee, for making me realize I was a man, and then for torturing me for coming out about it. Everyone. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted everyone who had ever wronged me to suffer the same way I had.  — ?!A voice rang out.  I can curse them for you, my dear.It was a woman’s voice, muffled, like there were several walls between me and her. Who’s there?!I swiped up my candlestick, thrusting it forward, to the sides, behind me. But there was no one else around. Give it a little thought. It’s not that difficult. And when you figure it out... come to me. I have been waiting for so long for someone like you... Someone with such hatred for the world. How am I supposed to know... who you are? How could you not, my dear? You’ve visited me so many times. Held me in your arms... whispered “Poor child” into my ear again and again... Wh — ?! No... that’s not possible! A-Ahh, I see... I’ve finally, truly lost my mind... If that’s what you wish to believe, that’s your choice. But the way I see it, if you had truly lost your mind... you wouldn’t be in so much pain. ...The voice, still muffled and unclear, seemed to be coming from somewhere far away and very close by at the same time.  Let me out of my cage. ... Give me your hand. ...I knew in the back of my mind that it was all absurd, but nonetheless, I did as the voice said. I let myself be drawn in... by the pleasant whispers. Quinn2win fucked around with this message at 14:40 on Nov 19, 2018 |
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Nov 19, 2018 06:18
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The portrait scene is probably my favorite part of the whole game. There's a lot of raw emotion there, and you can really feel Michel's anguish at the betrayal and denial of everyone he knows.quote:BGM: This Mutilated Body
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Nov 19, 2018 07:26
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Ohhh man this is a beautifully rendered and endless pain slog
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Nov 19, 2018 15:01
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Meanwhile Georges was probably like 'oh well it'll appease mother!  ' because he's kind of an idiot.
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Nov 19, 2018 22:04
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PetraCore posted:Meanwhile Georges was probably like 'oh well it'll appease mother! I was hoping against hope that he was a loveable doof and snuck a message in there knowing Michel would tear it up.
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Nov 20, 2018 02:16
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HerpicleOmnicron5 posted:I was hoping against hope that he was a loveable doof and snuck a message in there knowing Michel would tear it up. He is a doof, and probably didn't even think that their mom would send it on to Michel with that sickening note. That's what I'd like to think, anyway.  Also, "Hex" is very good and very appropriate for the scenes it shows up in. But that's true for the entire soundtrack, huh...
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Nov 20, 2018 06:23
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 BGM: Sanctus His gaze almost seemed... judgmental. But I marched for the tower, unconcerned.  For the day someone would truly set me free. ... When you arrived at this house... I felt the hands of fate at work. That you were led here — that you were meant to come to this place. You’ve been through so much to get here... I know your pain. I know how it feels to be locked up... to be tortured and used for others’ gain. You were the only one to ever have pity for me... and I shall be the only one to have compassion for you. You were the only one to stay at my side... and I shall do the same for you. ... You can give me life again. You can resurrect me. ... Now, open the door, Michel. Enticingly so. Standing at the top of the observation tower, I pushed open the door... and the first thing I saw was the ray of light shining through the window. ...And nothing else. Thank you... for opening the door.It was empty. The skeleton, which had been sitting there as long as I had been at this house, had vanished without a trace. I spun around, my gaze darting back and forth across the chamber, but there was no one there — only her voice whispering in my ear. You made this possible... You gave me the chance to have my revenge. Revenge...? Constant, everlasting despair... Their flesh may turn to dust... but so long as their souls live on, their torture will know no end... Hah... haha... hahaha... Ahahahahahaha...The tenderness in her voice crumbled away, leaving only raw loathing behind. She then let out a half-muffled cackle. Who are you? Oh, you poor dear. They locked you up here without telling you whose house it was? You sad, pathetic thing... Though that’s exactly the kind of person I needed. You’re... You’re not the witch, are you...? That I am. I am the cursed witch, who loathes this puny, wretched world — curses it. Morgana... I assumed... the witch was nothing but a legend. A tale... If you don’t believe me, I would be happy to show you. Let’s see... I could place a curse on someone you have a grudge against. Drag them down into the dark abyss. You are the one who granted me freedom, after all. Sympathized with me. Pitied me. Appreciated me. You happily embraced my filthy corpse! And for that, I will grant you your wish. Wishes can come true, Michel. Much the same way I was able to come back to life, if you remain steadfast in your desires, they will become reality, for devotion and yearning are the fountain from which miracles spring. ... I cannot leave the mansion’s grounds, but that is but a minor inconvenience. Tell me who you wish to curse... and I can lead them here. I can force the cross you were made to bear onto them. I believe in my power to perform miracles... because you made my miracle a reality. Your second brother, who made that ridiculous painting? Georges... Shall we kill him? He deserves at least that. He brought you more than enough pain. But if you would rather... you could curse your mother instead. Or the woman who set you on this path... Or perhaps you would prefer your father? With him gone, you could return home. ... Ask, and I will perform a miracle for you.I didn’t think she was lying, either. As ridiculous as the whole affair sounded, the skeleton had disappeared from the tower, and I was hearing a disembodied voice. But beyond that, the voice seemed to have a sort of... magnetism to it. If magic truly did exist in the world, then her words were laced with it. There was a power in her voice — something that repelled any instinct I might have to doubt the things she said. So I, on the verge of losing my grasp on reason altogether, believed every word the witch said. I wanted to curse them. To curse my brothers, Mother, Father, Aimee... And the witch was saying I could do precisely that. What will it be, my dear? There is no price. I don’t require a sacrifice or a dark ritual to perform my magic. I simply wish to show my gratitude. I want you to have that which you desire. ... Who do you want to curse?The witch’s sweet whispers hung in the air for a brief moment before wisping away. All the muscles in my body tensed up. I felt woozy, like the floor was wobbling beneath me. It took everything I had not to fall over. Who did I want to curse? Oh, and you are welcome to choose more than one. ...I could curse them, and the witch would kill my family. I would be free. No one would know I had been born “female.” Why don’t you become the new head of the estate?Who would I curse? Who would I kill? Didier? Georges? Mother? Father? Aimee? All of them? They had exiled me to this place. Have your revenge. ...A black butterfly fluttered across the room’s single shaft of light. As I stared absently up at it, dozens of memories — of emotions — flashed through my mind.  With enough time, everything will go back to the way it was before — just like it did for myself and Georges. (I don’t understand...) (Why would I think about them now?) (They’ve abandoned me...) (Left me in that room for two years... and then left me here for eight more...) (They don’t care whether I’m alive or dead.) (So why should I...) (Why should I — )  ... Have you made up your mind? I... have... Then tell me, my dear, who will it be? Who will you curse? ... ...No one. ... I cannot curse anyone, Morgana. ...Surely you jest. I know just how much you wish to see them dead. I felt all your hatred. Your despair. And you mean to tell me you can’t curse them? It struck me just now... that I can’t do that to family. I cannot curse my own family. This is the “family” that cast you aside, labeled you “cursed,” made you suffer for years, and then locked you away in this remote mansion. And they don’t feel even the slightest bit remorseful about any of it. I understand that... I know that they don’t give the same weight to their words as I do! I figured that out long ago! I know I’m alone in my prayers! That they don’t want the same things I do! That I trusted them more than they ever deserved! So why, then, can you not curse them? On the contrary — I want them to be happy... You have no place in that happiness, though. It is a happiness that rests upon your misfortune. Why, then, should you not drag them down so you can find respite for yourself? I would find no respite by cursing them! How can you be so sure of that, my dear? I most certainly found a great deal of it myself. ... You’re trying to follow your conscience — I can see that — but that “good” is superficial, and all it does is shackle you. Remove the shackles... and everything will be so much easier. ... Nothing you say... can convince me to kill my family... Why not someone who isn’t family, then? Surely you can think of at least one person you would like to see dead. Oh, I most certainly can. I could kill her a dozen times and it wouldn’t be enough! But just because I would be happy with her death... doesn’t mean there aren’t people who would be sad to lose her! Remove any one person from that group and the whole thing could come crashing down — all because I couldn’t restrain my own hatred! Your concern for them will devour you. Don’t think... I’m not aware of that... You aren’t. You don’t know that at all. The only reason you give them any consideration is because, deep down, you still have hope. But hope has a way of forsaking those who give it a home. You have a problem, and you need to take care of it before it kills you. ... You and I... we were cut from the same cloth... While you may still care for your family now... in time, you will come to curse them. ... Consider that a warning, Michel. ... Your hatred — your curse — is what brought me back to life, and there is no getting around that. We do have plenty of time, though... No need to rush to a decision... I’ll show you what it is you truly desire, deep, deep down, and I’ll show you again and again, until you finally acknowledge it. ...The black butterfly hovering by the window disappeared, and the witch’s voice grew distant. Overwhelmed, I collapsed to the floor unconscious.  Or was I just afraid of crossing that line? Was Morgana right? Was my heart now home to a terrible monster? If I actually had resurrected the witch with my hatred... maybe that was what I was now... Darkness seeped down over me once more. I was again encased in a pool of despair. Slowly, ever so slowly, it wore away at me, eroding me into nothing. If I didn’t come up for air, I soon would take the witch’s offer... Cackling like a demon, I would place a curse on someone. I would kill them. Reviving her was a mistake I never should have made. And not “for the greater good” or anything so noble. No, every time she spoke, a little more of my spirit died. From that day on, Morgana’s voice became a constant fixture in my life. “Curse them, kill them, curse them,” she serenaded directly into my ear. No matter where I hid or how deep I put my fingers in my ears, her voice resounded directly in my head. Hearing an incessant stream of curses from a disembodied voice was so unreal, so unbelievable, that I felt as though I was being dragged away from the realm of humanity. There was an odd, unsettling magnetism in her voice, allowing her malevolence to seep into me. It was downright torturous.  Revile them. Do you really need to be in your right mind, honestly? Your fixation on holding onto your sanity is what’s causing you so much anguish. Admit it: there’s more darkness — more seething malice inside you than anyone else. That’s why you were the one who resurrected me. Admit it... you do want to curse them, don’t you? You do want to kill them, don’t you? No! I don’t! I don’t want that at all! I’ve... I’ve told you this already! You’re so desperate to deny it, Michel... it can only mean that it’s true. You would be able to maintain your calm if you were truly free of guilt. I do not wish to kill Didier! Or Georges... or Mother... or Father! I have no desire whatsoever to see them dead! Your constant babbling... is messing with my head! Be honest with yourself, Michel. You do imagine what it would be like... to hold their warm intestines on your hands, standing over their bodies. Ah, aaah, aaaaaah... No... I don’t — That’s not what I want! Don’t lie, Michel. You climbed the tower. You opened the door. You sought me. No... I was... I wasn’t in control! No, Michel, you were — Enough! I’m done listening to you! Rgh... Where are you?! I’m standing behind you. — ! In front of you. — ! Now... I’m beside you. Ngh, you’re just playing around with me, Morgana! Mocking me for your own amusement! Not at all, my dear. In fact, I consider you a close friend. Why would I mock someone who means so much to me? We are not close! You will come to understand, in time, that we are very much the same. And when you do, you will also know that I am the one person who truly understands you. Enough... enough... enough! Let it all go, Michel. Curse it all with me. Despise it. Kill it. Make it suffer. Curse it. Please... just stop! And where might you be going, Michel? Wherever you run, I will always be by your side. Are you going to pray to God to exorcise me? Now that’s quite amusing, considering I am the child of — I’m not trying to hurt you, Michel. On the contrary... S-Stop talking... Please... just stop... I want to set you free from your misery. I can’t take it anymore! Please just be quiet! — ! Wh-Who’s there?! Ngh... Ah... I see... Wh — M-Michelle...? ... Um... I-Is something the matter...?I opened the door, and there stood a servant of the Bollinger estate. He seemed to be quite perturbed by the sight of me. I must have looked terrible. Morgana’s voice — her words — sapped my spirit dry. (A human...) (A normal person... Not a witch or a spirit or a demon...)I knew good and well... that the servant would never do anything to help me. He wouldn’t believe a word I said. But at that point, his humanity was enough for me to latch on to.  Pardon...? Th-The witch... she talks to me... She never stops talking... ... I’m begging you... please get me out of here... ... Let me go back home in your carriage! P-Please, let me go back! ... The witch’s voice... It’s killing me! It won’t go away... I can’t escape it! ... Please, I need your help! ... You’ve gone mad... Wha... You’re crazy. ... U-Ugh... See, this is why I didn’t want this job! Having to deliver supplies to this damned cursed mansion! Having to get anywhere near the Bollingers’ youngest child! N-No, no... I am... I am perfectly sane... Y-You sold your soul to the Devil! D-Don’t think I’m in the dark about that! No... I did no such thing... Y-You’re completely insane! No... I-I’m done with this damned job! It’s not worth all the riches in the world! N-Not if it means I have to be around a lunatic like you for even a minute! Why... I am... not crazy... I am perfectly sane... I’m not mad... Michel, your mind is far, far from sound. ... I won’t hear it... I am not mad, dammit! I am not insane! Hehe... I won’t hear it!The witch spent nearly every waking moment of every day at my side, talking and talking and talking. About how mean-spirited humans were. How ugly they were. An endless loop of vitriol, and she never seemed to tire of it either. Every. Single. Day. On and on and on. She also made a point of reminding me about myself — everything I was trying to get away from. But as much as I fought to ignore her, to not let the things she said in, she slipped past every wall I put up, her every word warping me. There was no escape. Curse them. Revile them. Remember. Remember the things they did to you. Close your eyes... and envision it. Remember. Remember the scorn in their eyes. The way their lips twisted as they laughed. You need only curse them... and you can wipe those reprehensible smirks out of existence. I’m begging you... I seriously can’t take it anymore! Oh, now why would you say that, my dear? It’s just the two of us in this gloomy old house. I don’t see what’s wrong with a little conversation. Your voice... everything you say... is eating away at me! I care for you, and everything I say is meant to help set you free. So I will continue saying it. You’re allowed to hate the people who have wronged you. They don’t deserve happiness. Someone who’s always smiling for you is someone who’s certain to betray you. Someone who values themselves above all will not hesitate to put others’ lives on the line. Someone who covets wealth and power will sacrifice his friends and family to obtain it. These are the kinds of people you once surrounded yourself with. I have told you repeatedly that I will not curse anyone! Why must you be so stubborn, my dear? I could ask you the same! Why won’t you just leave me be?! Because I can’t stand to see you like this. With one word, you could be free of your pain, but because you insist on shackling yourself to your idea of family, you’re making yourself miserable. We are the same type of person, Michel. The type who has the right to curse others. Regardless of what kind of childhood you had or how much hatred it instilled in you, Michel, you are a cursed man named after an angel. You need to realize how twisted you are — and soon. I am not... twisted... Do you honestly still believe you’re normal? ... I, I... You are not normal... and I will repeat it as many times as I have to. ... You need to accept that. ... Why must you hold so tight to your sanity? If you would just let go... you wouldn’t have to suffer. No one is going to come and save you, my dear. The only thing that can save you anymore is your loathing. I... We are the same — I am nothing like you! I am — I am not a witch! I’m not cursed! I’m human! I’m a human — ...Man? Yes... a man... With that body? Ngh... Hehe... Oh, my dear friend. Let me tell you something you should be quite pleased to hear. Do you know what some say about people like you — those who are neither male nor female? That they are like unto God. Like... unto God? Indeed. You should have been worshiped for your divinity, but instead, your family cursed you. ... You are not human. From the second life was first breathed into you, your fate was decided. No... you’re wrong... If I really were wrong, you would not be here now. You would be back home with your family. Perhaps you would have a pretty little wife, living a normal, happy life together. But you have long since strayed from that path. It’s well out of sight now! I have not! I am human! I’m a person! A normal person! The youngest son of the Bollinger estate! No one — not a single person believed me. Not even the witch was willing to consider me human, never mind my family. The archangel, whose name I shared, looked down on me. The witch tried to drag me into her world. My past constantly ate away at me. I had been imprisoned in this place for far too long. There was nothing I could do about my body. All of those things combined threatened to break me. I let out a scream, then stumbled out of the room in a frenzy. I had to get out of that place. It didn’t matter anymore that I was forbidden from leaving the property. I just wanted all of it out of sight. If they wouldn’t let me come home, then I would run away. It was all I could do. I wanted to get myself anywhere that might have even the tiniest bit of light to share with me. I was desperate. Someone! Anyone! Please! Tell me I’m human! Tell me I’m a man! Anyone, please tell me I’m not cursed!But when I opened the front door — searing light pierced my eyes.  The world quickly went white. I couldn’t see a thing. And then — Ah, aah, aaaagh!— my arm began to burn beneath the sunlight. A-Ah, aaaaaaaagh!Black smoke rose from the sizzling flesh. A sickening stench filled the air. Ah, ah, ah, ah, aaagh!Excruciating pain quickly spread to the rest of my body. Hgh, ah, agh... ngh... Wh — Why am I — ah, agh, aaaargh! W — Wa... Water...!I slammed the door shut, restoring darkness. Gasping and groaning, I trudged back into the house in search of water, which I’m sure the witch Morgana observed with a great deal of pity. I don’t think you’re in need of any water. Take another look at yourself. Hah... rgh... ah...With what little light managed to worm its way into the corridors to guide me, I dragged myself to the chapel, stopping beneath the pale light shining through the stained-glass window. Ahh... how... Where had that pain come from, then? And the distinct stench of burning flesh? Th — This is... This is your doing... isn’t it, Morgana?! ... I know what you’re experiencing. It’s happened to me too. Sometimes, enough emotional distress and despair can cause physical pain. ... The mind and body are much more tightly linked than you think, and your mind is far more damaged than you know. ... You poor, poor thing... ... You have my sympathy, my dear. ... You sad little child... ... Or perhaps... metamorphosing around me. I was completely and utterly cornered, and there was no getting around that. Which left me with only one option: to stop fighting and accept the harsh reality before me. It would make everything so much easier. The whole world said there was something wrong with me, and I was the only one who tried to deny it. So in the world’s eyes... that meant there was something wrong with me. I was abnormal. I was irregular. I was mad. I was cursed. I was not human. I was... not a man. (If I’m not human or male...) (maybe I should just call myself a witch...)I did, however, remain firm in my refusal to curse anyone, unwilling to give up that last piece of my humanity. Everything else, I let go of, which took a great deal of weight off me. I stopped caring — and I stopped thinking. I stopped wanting someone to accept me, and I stopped wanting to run away. Sunlight no longer caused me agonizing, unseen burns, but in exchange, I became emotionally empty. I discarded my faith and my hope, building a shell of cynicism and closing myself within it. And in time, that became my “normal.” I began to believe it was what I wanted. Tranquility filled my days. Time trudged onward at an almost imperceptible pace. The witch’s whispers no longer caused me aggravation.  At one point, a man with an unusual disease stumbled across the mansion while wandering through the forest, but there is little more to be said about that. For nothing at all could have convinced me to care about someone else. I spent much of my time sitting before the fireplace. I had covered the stained-glass window with drapes, loath to even think about that damned archangel. Staring at the dancing flames, I was able to forget the passage of time. Watching, unblinking, as the red-and-orange tongues flicked back and forth, they seemed to spread outward from the fireplace, consuming me. Whether by the raging infernos of Hell or the cleansing fires of Purgatory, the thought of being swallowed up and burned to ashes by a massive conflagration was quite pleasant. But those visions never became reality.  ... Do you still not want to curse them? ... Look at yourself, Michel. Look at how you’re living. Do you really want this life? ... Have you ever thought about dying? ... Michel... ... Would you like to die? ... Hehe... That’s the right answer. God has said that taking one’s own life is a sin, after all. ... That’s good, Michel. You’ve made the right decision. And I shall be there with you until the very end, my dear friend. ...Honestly, part of me did desire death. I just didn’t have enough energy to take my own life. My mind and spirit were too far decayed. Quinn2win fucked around with this message at 01:37 on Nov 27, 2018 |
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Nov 26, 2018 06:10
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To formalize the thread's pace - I've long past the point where I have the energy to keep up my intended original rate of posting update. This LP is now updating weekly, usually on Sunday evenings. Thank you for your patience. I know this part of the story is a bit of a slog.
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Nov 26, 2018 06:13
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Duplicate image. I think the second one is where it belongs.
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Nov 27, 2018 01:36
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Well this one hit me right in the feels.
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Nov 27, 2018 02:06
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Agreed. I'll add a more detailed reply later, but in short: ouch
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Nov 27, 2018 02:32
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Poor Michel seems to encounter every single rear end in a top hat in his neck of the woods. Morgana needs a hobby.
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Nov 27, 2018 07:39
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 BGM: March of Time in my tenth year, the door opened once more, and time sputtered back into motion. When you showed up, Giselle, everything I had given up on, and everything I had thought I’d lost — it all came back. At first, as you know quite well, I was deeply mistrustful of you. I hated having you around. But if I hadn’t met you, in all likelihood, I probably would have continued down that path... and become a demon.   I think I get what you’re trying to say, but my mental image of a “witch” is definitely more a woman. So you’re not a witch! To tell you the truth, I didn’t know who might be here, which had me rather scared... but I think I can make this work. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master.After taking care of Giselle, I returned to my room. I was, to be quite honest, dumbfounded. And it was, naturally, the witch who stoked the fire of my apprehension.  ... Chase her out. Give her a little scare and she’ll be gone within the day. ... If you’d rather not, I could always frighten her in your place. A rattling window here, a couple broken glasses there. Small things like that to accentuate the eerie atmosphere. ... Are you going to say anything? ...Why do you care about her at all? Oh, now, don’t be like that. I live here too, so why shouldn’t I care? And I am not fond of noisy people. Or sprightly women like that one. ... That’s something we can both agree on, isn’t it? ... You don’t like that woman, do you? ... The more a person smiles... the less you can trust them. Though I hardly have to tell you that, do I? Stop talking. Now, now, that’s not very polite. This is my — This is a family matter. It is none of your concern. I was merely offering to help rid you of a pest. I don’t need your help. I will get rid of that woman when I’m ready. But first, I will find out what secrets she’s keeping. Then, I will go back to living in peace. Hehe... very well, then. That pest has no place in your sweet solitude. The world before you now is so much kinder, so much warmer than the one you used to know. ... Well, good luck, then. And if you need a helping hand, don’t hesitate to ask. ... Oh, and by the way... ...What now? You’ve changed, my dear. ... Hehe... And I like you so much better like this. I always hated how much you reeked of human. ... You were blessed with a body like unto God. You were personally created by His hands. I could only dream of having what you have, but you only wanted to deny it. ... Now, though, you act the part much better. A saint, resurrected by the closest living thing to God. Perhaps this too could be considered a miracle. Hehe... ahaha... Morgana. ...Yes? You are a deranged, delusional woman. Why, thank you. Her jade eyes seemed to glimmer every time she made a new face, and the more she smiled — the more vibrantly she spoke — the more suspicious I became. I couldn’t trust someone who smiled that much — especially not a woman. And the way she kept trying to get friendly with me didn’t help that impression at all. I had a hard time believing she honestly wanted to get to know me. I couldn’t help but think she was trying to fish for information. Anyone who tried to get close to me had to have some ulterior motive — like Aimee, who had only done so to satisfy Mother. Perhaps my mistrust could have been considered paranoia, but even ten years later, flashes of that nightmare would still come back to me from time to time. It would take more than a few attempts at being nice for me to trust this stranger. Eventually, I came to the realization that she was hiding something, and I convinced myself it was out of guilt. So I wrote Mother, in search of something I could use to tear her down, to get her out of here. I should have listened to Giselle, rather than Mother or the witch, but I had conflated her with Aimee in my mind, so I was unable to see where the truth really lay. I was only able to perceive her as malicious. So instead of her, I put my faith in Mother’s words, despite Mother never once doing the same for me.  BGM: Everybody's Crying I deeply regret having to put you in this situation. I never wanted to let that woman get anywhere near you. She is a witch. A terrible, sinful witch. A dreadful, tainted woman. She lay with my husband — with your father. She’s a lowly merchant girl who wormed her way into our family so she could exploit your father for money. She committed a grievous sin — the sin of adultery. I tried to have her executed, but your father wouldn’t allow it, so instead, he had her banished to atone for her sins, unaware that you already live there. And I could not tell him, either, for that is mine and your brothers’ secret. I pray you can find it in your heart to forgive your mother for her failings. Forgive me for delivering a witch to you. I would not be surprised if she tried snooping around. She is a ruthless fiend who will do anything for money. Should word of your curse happen to spread, it would surely draw unwanted attention from the Church. We have no allies except each other. Michelle, with this letter, I have included a knife. The blade has been blessed with holy water, which should allow it to eradicate the corrupt, evil soul of the witch. I ask of you with all my heart to send that awful creature back to Hell.  It was storming that night, erratic claps of thunder ripping through the sky. Giselle let out a panicked scream, shoving me back, and the look in her eyes kicked into motion emotions I had thought I’d lost. I knew that face. I knew that scream. Because... that face had once been mine... I had screamed with that same utter despair at the world...  Back to the way things were... Yes, finally... it’s quiet again. I’m honestly surprised she stayed as long as she did. ... In a way... her tenacity is rather impressive. Not many would persist for so long in the face of such obvious disinterest. But you know no one would try to get friendly with you without good reason. Information about you carries considerable weight outside these walls. But the look on her face then... Was that really her just putting on an act because I revealed her scheming? If you think she was afraid of you, you’re mistaken. That’s how people behave when their sins are brought to light. She was screaming, though. And she looked genuinely terrified when she knocked my hand away... You’re not going to let a woman’s screams cloud your judgment, are you? ... A woman can make a weapon out of anything. Tears. A smile. Fear. The day she arrived, you recognized her smile as fake, so surely you aren’t going to fall for this? I’m not “falling” for anything. I just... (I feel like I know that frenzied panic...) (Something doesn’t add up...) “Just” nothing, my dear. In fact, what perplexes me... is why you didn’t simply kill her when you had the chance. ... Are you afraid of the sight of blood? ... The blood of your tormentors has no more worth than that of a wild boar. You should have sliced her throat without a second thought. Although... I suppose that would have made quite the mess. Now, that makes more sense. You were not afraid of hurting her; you merely didn’t want the burden of having to clean up afterward. How very like you. Be quiet... Oh, come now. That woman’s finally gone, and it’s back to just the two of us... and you don’t want to talk? Silence, please... Hehe... as you wish. I will celebrate your accomplishment in silence, my dearest friend. I imagine she’s out there... half-buried in the cold earth by now. ...  If I had killed you... Or if, out there in the forest... you had succumbed to the unforgiving weather. Life had never given me much in the way of good fortune, but you coming back, you being alive, was absolutely a blessing.   I can’t take it! I’m through with this whole world! Giselle... I do understand. I know very well how difficult, how painful it can be... for no one to believe you. For no one to accept you. I know far too well what it’s like to want to scream that you’re done with this whole damned world... I truly do.  We got to know each other as people. It was nothing more than a single, small step, but for us, it was like we had moved a mountain. I still remember how the light felt... as it shone through the windows we opened together. It didn’t burn. And while this might sound melodramatic... I feel safe in saying it was probably the gentlest light I had ever felt in my life.  BGM: Cicio Well, I suppose that’s not quite correct. I felt a comfort and peace with myself that I never had before. That may have been the first time... I was really human. Having someone else around... began to feel normal. It was something I was certain I would never have; it was incredible. Though, to someone else, our time together may have seemed frivolous and empty, our conversations meaningless chatter, I’d never thought the day would come when someone would laugh at something I said, when someone would smile at the sight of me. However trivial, seeing Giselle smile made me happy.  (What’s all the racket...?) Is... something the matter? Ah, Master. Yes, um, a cat! ...Huh? A cat? A naughty little cat’s been sneaking into the cellar the past few days, so I’m trying to catch him! If you happen to come across him, don’t let him get away. Right... And what will you do once you’ve caught him? Well, hmm... I don’t want to punish him. That would be mean... If he insists on coming back, I think I’ll take him in and teach him how to be a house cat. Y-You mean to keep him? Are you not fond of cats, Master? I don’t... mind them, no... Then there you have it! I hope he doesn’t take too long to warm up to us. ... Maybe it’ll help... if you give him a name? Ooh, a name? That’s a great idea! What should we call him, then? You decide, Master. Y-You want me to pick a name? This is your house, after all. So it’s only right you would be the one to choose. (I’m not sure I follow that reasoning...) ... What... does the cat look like? Mm... well, he’s wild, so he’s dirty, I guess? And he’s kind of got some spots here and there... Is he ugly? Um... I’d say so, yeah. ... All right, then... ... ... That’s a name?! Why on earth would you want to call something that? And what does “Mk-II” even mean?! B-Be quiet! It’s on you if he runs away, Master!My time with Giselle made a normal person out of me. Made me able to tell stupid jokes, to get frustrated or surprised or exasperated. I started showing actual emotion. Our silly, meaningless banter became something precious. My heart of stone began to soften. The world she created for me... was what I had yearned for my whole life. Having lost half of it imprisoned and spent the other half playing an identity that conflicted with how I felt in my heart, it was the first time I genuinely felt like I was allowed to be myself.   I’ve heard quite enough, Master! It sounds like I’m going to need to put your taste buds through some intense rehabilitation!  We can continue getting to know each other for years to come. though I did my best to not show it, I think that I treasured our time together even more than you did. I’d latched onto it, desperately refusing to let go. I needed it... and I needed you...
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Dec 3, 2018 01:54
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ProfessorProf posted:
Michel, no. You are terrible at this.
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Dec 5, 2018 03:45
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All right, I think at this point I must unfortunately admit that I've lost the energy to finish this LP. To all who followed me this far: Thank you for your patience, and I'm sorry for not getting through it. If you want to see the ending to Michel's tale, the game is available on Steam and comes highly recommended.
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Jan 10, 2019 16:35
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Thanks Pro Prof. I enjoyed the stuff posted thus far and I'll probably look into picking it up. < 3
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Jan 10, 2019 16:55
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Thanks ProfessorProf for the LP! As someone who also burned out at the end of the one LP I did 5 years ago, I totally understand what it is like.
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Jan 10, 2019 18:00
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| # ? May 19, 2024 02:37 |
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Thanks for LPing it!
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Jan 11, 2019 22:59
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