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Also, the music links in this update were incorrect. They have been corrected.
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Apr 30, 2018 00:49
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...what the gently caress is going on here?  Maybe I just missed something but I'm completely lost now. (Well, save that it sounds like You is trans...) I wonder what else was altered in the other stories, to produce what we saw then... Since WHG herself is supposedly a wholesale fabrication. I don't feel like she is entirely made up though, but maybe I just feel like that because of something unrelated? Ugh, it's way too late for theorycrafting.
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Apr 30, 2018 06:03
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 (Of course that isn't how this is supposed to end. We must see this through to its bitter conclusion.)  And if she doesn’t reclaim her old self... I’ll never get to hear her say my name again...  I know I’m being selfish here... but I can’t do that. ... If you’re afraid of what you might find, we can remember together. I haven’t gotten everything back yet myself... So let’s open the real door... together. There are... no other doors to open! Not a door with physical form... but the door to your heart! The door to...I grasp her unnaturally cold hand — a hand that, long ago, once had warmth. If she can’t lead the way, then I have to. I must pick up the pieces of our erased history so we can both reclaim ourselves. Find the actual truth. No matter what we may uncover, I will not let go of this hand — no, I mustn’t let go of it.  This dark pit — this is her door. Her history. Her heart. Let’s try this one more time. It’s not a sweet story, by any means. It’s a story of betrayal, anger, hatred. We caused each other pain. But that’s... the road we traveled.  
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Apr 30, 2018 13:41
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And with that, Chapter 4 is complete. Another hiatus will now begin, as I rebuild my backlog from the savage beating that it took from playing God of War all the time. During this hiatus, I'll restore the distorted scenes from Chapter 4 and provide links to the weird versions. Give me a week or so.
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Apr 30, 2018 13:43
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Like Clockwork posted:...what the gently caress is going on here? Excuse me, they identify as an "I" now. 
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Apr 30, 2018 14:07
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...  I just don't even know anymore. I thought it might be that the MC might be either Michel or the WHG with Morgana/the Maid being a third party (with a potential third force waiting in the wings), but then... all of this happened. If there is no WHG anywhere, if she was just a beautiful fiction created to keep out the cold truth... well, in terms of the stories behind the doors, it does make sense. Because there was always this veil of insincere perfection covering the WHG in all of the stories that prevents her from being seen as too real- she's always this force that seems to drop in from nowhere, designed to be exactly what her paramour needs within their story, only to be taken away again after suffering horribly... as if she was never really there. This all makes sense. But if she was never really there... then who was? What sense do these stories make if the WHG was never there? Was Mell just having it with a random servant girl to make Nellie flip out? Was Jacopo just abusing his generic wife or himself? I can believe that she was Bestia's fiction, but then who exactly did the mob kill? For the WHG to be fake, this means that the stories we've heard have either been wholesale fabrications as well, or heavily rewritten to include her. And of course, there's also the Maid's... descriptions of the WHG, which as other people have pointed out are... well... saucy, and rooted in a sensual viewpoint, to not be about a real person. Sooo, who are those descriptions writing about? Because they don't seem to be about the Maid/ Giselle(?) herself and if they are describing feelings for Michel....  That just raises more questions. And that doesn't get into who Morgana really is, which is now a complete unknown, except that there is one- someone has to have made that red text last update... and someone must be enforcing this curse.Gender shenanigans! Thought they were deep and twisty in the last Prof thread, but I guess I ain't seen nothing.
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Apr 30, 2018 15:20
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Looks like both versions of the fourth door updates are available now.
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May 1, 2018 02:42
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     ...and I could still see it when I closed my eyes — the people lined up on the Grand-Pont, awaiting entry, eager to start a new life there. Brimming with hope. It was a city people were willing to pay high taxes to live in. If you were a performer, you could get some of those costs shaved down a bit by putting those skills to use. The capital was harsh on those who wanted in, and apathetic about all who left. It was composed of a powerful nobility and clergy, wealthy merchants and bankers, and a large population of poor. And it was the city I had called home for a long time. I didn’t know much about where I was heading.  BGM: Hex  Maybe we should take a little break. You want to keep going? Oh... all right, then.The coachman was frustratingly taciturn. He acted as though he had gotten stuck transporting a prisoner. Though that was hardly a stretch. From his point of view, I was nothing more than a criminal. Even the times he would acknowledge I had said anything, he made no effort to hide the scorn in his eyes — to pretend he didn’t regret ever taking this job. And I would just fall silent again. ...The road was gradually getting narrower. We had long since left the paved city roads behind, and were now traveling along a couple worn-down grooves in the forest. How did I end up here? Why was I being subjected to this? I was done thinking about it. The more I thought on it, the less fair it seemed. The more I remembered, the worse it hurt. All I could do anymore was close my eyes and weather the storm.  It didn’t seem to be an especially large house, but it had obviously been constructed with a great deal of care, and it was, thankfully, not standing in ruins. This deep in the forest?The carriage came to a stop, and the coachman climbed down, signaling with his chin for me to get out. Thank you... very much. You must be tired after such a long journey. This is... the mansion I am looking for, yes? ...But the driver didn’t even acknowledge me, getting back onto the carriage and setting off into the forest. He seemed to want to get as far away from here as quickly as possible. He could have said something. ...Oh well.That was about all I could say, anyway. Oh well. I couldn’t blame anyone for my being here — or for his wanting to get out. I should get going, I guess.Getting a better look at it, the house’s windows were, strangely enough, all shuttered. It was probably dark as pitch inside. Does no one live here? But if that’s the case... then why was I...?I placed my hand on the front door. Such a big door...What if I couldn’t get in? I had no idea what else there was in the area. If the door didn’t open... then I would die out here in the forest. I’ve come to accept much, but I was not ready to forfeit my life yet. Please open... ... It’s not locked, I guess... Looking in, I got the strangest impression that light was being swallowed up into the mansion’s depths. Rather than going inside, it felt as though I was about to step outside the boundaries of this world. When I closed the door, it was so dark I couldn’t even tell where I was walking.  Though I managed to fumble my way over to a window, it was tightly shuttered, and the shutters caked with rust. I was probably not getting it open without a fight. Darn... not a hint of light.I couldn’t even see my hand waving in front of my face. It felt as though the floor would fall out from under me and I would sink into eternal darkness if I didn’t watch my step. Fighting back that fear, I slowly walked forward, tracing the wall with my hand. There was a door at the end of a long corridor. I pulled it open, and a wisp of bone-chilling air brushed past me. It was too dark to see anything, but I could feel something different present in this area than the rest of the house. Uneasiness gripped me. Hello...? Is anyone there? Please don’t tell me it’s actually abandoned. ... I suppose I can’t know without looking around a bit more.My voice simply disappeared into the void. No response. As I pushed forward through the freezing air, for a split second, I spotted a shimmer of light. Squinting my eyes, I was able to make out a large window. Unlike the others, it wasn’t shuttered. What do we have here? Drapes? I see a little light beyond — My chances were slim, I imagined, but if there was even a slight possibility of getting some light in here, it was worth a shot. So I pulled open the drapes. ...! From beyond the glass, I could hear the subtle pitter-patter of rain. It had finally started, it seemed. The different colors of light blended into a milky white — dim but wondrous. It’s so pretty... It looks like an angel? Why would someone cover this up? It’s beautiful. With a little more light, it’d be —  ...! Or the windows.Suddenly, I heard a voice, and I could sense someone else in the room. The man’s voice was emotionless, neither deep nor high. Before long, he came into view, illuminated by dull orange candlelight.  U-Um... I-I’m sorry for coming in uninvited... But, um, I did announce myself... ...The man stood there, practically blending in with the darkness. Had he been there the whole time? He was staring straight at me. His gaze wavered slightly, but not enough for me to read anything in it. Then again, I could hardly make out any detail at all under the light of a single candle. Is this, um... your mansion? ...It is. Thank goodness... I was afraid it was deserted. I suspect you would have preferred it if the house were abandoned. Oh, not at all. I would be scared to death staying in this dark mansion all by myself. ... Ah... I’m sorry. No ill will intended. But I do think it could do with some light. That way, you could see where you were walking. And I’m sure this room would look splendid illuminated. Not necessary. I make do perfectly well as things are. How can you see when it’s so dark? I have an abundance of candles, and oil for lamps. I am not in want of means of creating light. ... ... If you are in need of money, help yourself to some of the furniture. There’s a village not far from here. Trade it for food, then make your way to a larger town. I am no longer able... to freely return to the city. I cannot go back there. Please... don’t chase me out. ... I see... And do you ask this of me aware of how people refer to this mansion? ...They say... that a witch lives here. Not merely a witch. A cursed witch. If you remain here, you too shall likely suffer your own destruction. You’re worried for my well-being? ... Witch or not, my mind is made up.I was sent to this cursed witch’s mansion to atone for my transgressions back in the city. It didn’t matter what lived here; I had no choice. Which will strike you first, I wonder — regret, or the curse? You seem to be doing just fine. It’s only a tale... The witch is real. Very much so. It is not a legend, nor a fairy tale. ... The witch —   — is me.  It was nothing flowery or dramatic; it was, rather, laced with suspicion and wariness. We knew nothing about one another, and I had no interest in changing that. But nonetheless, that was where it all began. Where my history with her commenced.  BGM: The March of Time Open wide, they glimmered like jewels in the light shining through the stained-glass window. She seemed to be at a loss for words. I wasn’t lying, per se. The rumors said a witch lived in this house, and I was the only one who filled that criteria. Thus, said rumors could be interpreted to be talking about me. After staring at me dumbfounded for a few moments, the woman suddenly burst into laughter.  ...What? I never would have guessed you were someone to tell such a ridiculous joke with a straight face. I wasn’t — You don’t look at all like a witch. I mean, it’s dark, and I can’t really see... but you seem to me like a rather handsome man. ... The word “witch”...The word “witch” has broader meaning than just a woman who practices magic. Any unholy person with cursed powers, man or woman, can be considered a witch. 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. What do you — It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master. Mas...ter? I froze the moment the word left her mouth. “Home.” It rattled around in my skull, shaking up terrible memories that almost brought me to my knees. Why, after all these years, were they reaching out to me now? And not even sending someone to bring me back. Just sending someone. To what end? For what purpose had they shipped an abigail out to this remote mansion? What was my mother thinking? Was this another one of her attempts to break my curse? What do you mean you... “made a little goof”?My voice came out weak. I did my best not to let it show on my face. Umm... it was a teeny-tiny mistake. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. What did... Mother say about me...? Well... it was actually your father who told me to come here. I never really spoke to your mother much. Father sent you?That made even less sense. Why would he have...? Did Father even know I was here? No, if he had known, I would have been... Who was this woman? And what was her goal in asking to stay here? Well, there you have it. I’ll be here for a while. If you need me for anything, do not hesitate to ask. I’m confident I can handle most everyday tasks. Now, where should I begin? Oh, I know! Are you hungry, Master? Food. I can’t imagine you eat much, being as skinny as you are. ...I turned my back on her without responding. No matter what her goal was, she had been sent from that house. There was no way anything good could come of that, and there was no way I could live with someone who had ties to them. I prayed she would take the hint, give up, and leave.  And so I kept ignoring her.  Master! Master!I ignored — Master!I ignored her — Master! What would you like for supper?! Nothing!— but failed, spinning back and shouting. Her eyes went wide, and then she gave a sheepish giggle. I glared at her as she fidgeted uncomfortably. Eating is one of the most basic human needs, so if you’re hungry, you should really eat! I said I didn’t want... ... What was that sound? Must you ask? That’s not a very polite thing to ask a lady, you know. Huh? I felt like I was some kind of animal. ... So, uh, what I’m trying to say... is that I’m, um, I’m hungry... ... (That wasn’t the sound of her stomach growling, was it? I thought lightning had struck in the distance...) ...and would like some supper... The kitchen is at the far end of the hall on the first floor. There’s food in the cellar. Help yourself to any of it. Thank you so much! I honestly feel like I haven’t eaten in days and I’m about die of starvation. Oh, and I shouldn’t need any help finding it. I plan on exploring the house anyway. It’s rather exciting, being in a new place, hehehe. ... (Urgh... Dammit. That did not go as planned.) (Oh well. She can do as she pleases. I’ll have nothing to do with it.) Oh, Master! Are you sure you don’t — No. ...Master. Master. What is it now?! ... And your name, Mas — Oh, Master, you!I actually left the room that time, making my way back to my chambers. At some point, I would seriously have to chase her out. Especially considering she had come from that house. But regardless, I was not terribly fond of her. Quinn2win fucked around with this message at 19:48 on May 6, 2018 |
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May 6, 2018 19:10
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You appear to have accidentally used Giselle's "dour" face for Michel's at the end of the update. Or not. This game is confusing.
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May 6, 2018 19:32
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Doopliss posted:You appear to have accidentally used Giselle's "dour" face for Michel's at the end of the update. Or not. This game is confusing. Nah those are the wrong portrait.
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May 6, 2018 19:40
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Fixed.
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May 6, 2018 20:49
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And so Giselle is the maid. She is a child of the mother of Michel and a painter, she is viciously attacked and killed by townsfolk after helping Michel be a better person (he is a murderer) but before all that she gets misunderstood, mistreated and locked up by Michel?
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May 6, 2018 23:43
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I really appreciate that after all we've gone through, Chapter 4 opens up with a fart joke.
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May 6, 2018 23:59
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Tendales posted:I really appreciate that after all we've gone through, Chapter 4 opens up with a fart joke. Despite Giselle's vehement denials, that actually is her stomach.
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May 7, 2018 00:13
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The music in this game is so great, I may have missed it in the past but March of Time is a banging track.
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May 7, 2018 05:19
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I like Giselle without the WHG wallpaper. She seems more along the lines of Pauline and Maria's fake personality and so on.
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May 7, 2018 14:11
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 BGM: The March of Time But that was probably because we were still essentially strangers. Having been sent to the mansion as reparation for my mistakes, I wasn’t sure who I might find there, but I was tentatively convinced he wasn’t a terrible person. He didn’t do anything to me — except stay away. Michel spent most of his time in his chambers, which he had told me to never enter under any circumstances, so we rarely encountered one another in the halls. For that reason, I made an effort to be kind and cheerful on the sporadic occasions we did cross paths. I figured if I kept that up long enough, he would eventually warm up to me. And as new housemates, being able to enjoy our time together was obviously preferable to the alternative. If I did manage to break the ice, I hoped we would be able to do some talking — about the mansion, about him, about me. I just had to keep working at it.  An aristocrat who had no use for his servant — I hadn’t met anyone like him before. All right, then.That meant about all I could do was clean. I wasn’t sure how his room looked, but the rest of the house was, quite frankly, an absolute disaster. The dust was so heavy it was obvious it hadn’t been touched in years. Let’s get started!It couldn’t be healthy to live in these conditions, so I set out to clean each room in the house one by one. That said, it wasn’t going to be an easy task. Not because I was bad at cleaning — in fact, I considered myself quite good at it — but because it was near impossible to find all the dust and grime that needed cleaning under the flickering light of a candle. I can’t understand how anyone sane can live in this dark. What’s wrong with him? ... Oh god, hahaha, wouldn’t that be something. I can see it now... him sneaking out every night to suck the blood of pretty girls. Priceless! Ack! That means I’m in trouble! ... ...Look at me, Miss One-Woman Comedy Show, here. Yep... (If I am able to get him to warm up to me, though, maybe that’ll give me a little more room to make some changes.) (Like opening some windows...) (No light and no fresh air... no thank you.) Anyway!I set the candlestick down, pulled over a chair to stand on, and started wiping down the shelf. The chair’s legs seemed to be uneven, as it wobbled slightly beneath me. So many books. I wonder, do they all belong to him?I knew parchment was expensive, so it was rather astonishing seeing this many stacks of it in one place. There were even some books with bulky, extravagantly decorated covers. He does come from an esteemed family...I’d spent enough time at his family’s home. It was a constant bustle of servants and guests — the exact opposite of what this mansion was like. Why had he left his home? What had he done to be sent all the way out here, to this remote mansion with a less-than-savory reputation? Need to be careful not to overstep my bounds. I am a servant now. A servant. ... I’d always had a bad tendency to chase my curiosities as soon as they struck, pushing to scratch the itch no matter how much my actions annoyed others. I couldn’t do that here, though. I was simply a servant, and if I got on Michel’s bad side, I risked getting thrown out. I wonder what kind of books he’s got in here.So I attempted to distract myself. I grabbed one of the books and attempted to pull it out — Wha?— but the strings binding the parchment must have gotten tangled at the back — Wh-Whoa, whoa!— because the books on either side tilted back with it — Aaaaaaaaaaaah!— and then the entire row came crashing down on top of me. O-Owww... Oh, for cripes’ sake!I had fallen off the chair, and a downpour of books was still coming down on me. A mountain of dust with it. Cough, cough! S-Seriously?! ...What are you doing? Wha — ?!Suddenly, Michel was there, looking down on me from a little ways away. There was, as usual, not much I could read from his expression, but I could hear a vague trace of exasperation in his voice. I, uhhhh... I was doing some cleaning, and... I-I’m usually better than this! It’s just so dark, mistakes should be expected... ... I really think we should open some windows, Master. Get some light, some air flowing through here. I never asked you to clean anything. You did this entirely yourself. B-But there’s so much duuuust. It can’t be good for you. I am perfectly healthy. I don’t see the problem.Had he even seen himself? No way someone that skinny was “perfectly healthy.” You look like you have something to say. (He can make out my face in this darkness?!) U-Umm, oh, you know! I wanted to be useful, and cleaning is about all I can do here, so... you know. I was sensing something else... but all right.He let out a sigh, stepped over toward the pile of books, and then reached his hand down for me. Ah...I suddenly felt a pang of embarrassment about the fact that I was still splayed out on the floor, but I raised my hand up to take his — only for him to pick up a book instead. Y-You could at least help me up! You have legs.He said, casually returning the book to the top shelf. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was a terrible person.  Giselle asked, not a trace of remorse visible on her face despite having made a mess of the room she was supposedly trying to clean. I gave a curt nod.  Really? That’s impressive! Must have been hard work getting them all in here, huh? There’s got to be a hundred books here. You could fill a whole carriage, at least. Hehe, it’s like you’ve got your own personal library.She had been pouting only a few moments earlier, but her smile was back in short order. Her jade eyes were like little balls of curiosity, glittering in the faint candlelight. I was not particularly fond of overly expressive — rather, overly curious women. Did they not care that they trampled uninvited into other people’s personal spaces? Or were they not even aware that their actions were invasive? I averted my gaze from hers. I receive one roughly every month. Ah, I see —  ...Wait.She turned back toward the shelves. I presumed she understood the implications of what I had just said. Of the fact that there were nearly a hundred tomes here, and I received only one a month. H-Huh.Giselle fell silent. I couldn’t blame her if she thought my circumstances, or my family, or my life bizarre. But I didn’t care what she thought of me. In fact, it was to my advantage for her to be uncomfortable. I just needed her to stay quiet and keep her nose out of my business.  I said not to her, but to myself. I had no reason to count the passage of time anymore. Only the books served as a record of how long I had been here. O-One hundred and twenty-one! ...What? There are one hundred and twenty-one books! Ten years and one month! ...Y-You were counting?I thought she had just sheepishly gone quiet. What an inscrutable woman.  You’ve been here in the mansion for that long? All by yourself?The truth was, there had been times when I wasn’t alone, but Giselle had no need to know that. You already know the answer.A look of pity formed in Giselle’s eyes. Enough. I never asked for her sympathy. I am here by choice. Y-You mean you weren’t banished here?No restraint, this woman. No. I came here of my own volition.I didn’t care enough to elaborate, though. Picking another book up off the floor, I brushed the dust off its cover. It was a gaudily decorated tome.  But apparently, Giselle was unable to take a hint. What’s it about?I let out a sigh and opened to no page in particular, sticking the book out toward her. She was a servant — and a woman. There was no way she could read. Umm... let’s see here... “This land is hardly suitable for cultivation. It can only produce oversour grapes. I would probably get more out of it if I tore down the fields and made it into a market”... Sounds like a lord’s diary. ...You can read?I was caught slightly off-guard. It was rare for a noble woman to be able to read and write, let alone a servant. Was she truly what she claimed to be? I had someone to teach me. So, is this book any interesting? It’s dull, worthless tripe. I can’t imagine why anyone thought it was worth binding. T-Tough crowd... But it’s not very often you get to see a lord’s diary. I am rather curious what kinds of things he griped about, hehe.Lord or king, what value was there in another’s grumbling? There was no knowledge contained within that book. Just emotions — unsightly scribbles. And there was nothing more exhausting in this world than being emotional. If you want to read it, be my guest. That wasn’t my intention, but all right. Once I’ve got the whole mansion cleaned, I’ll read it! ...I told you, you don’t have to clean. Hehe! Oh, I’ve got an idea, Master. If you’re interested, maybe we could read together? Did you hear a word I just said? It’s dull, worthless tripe — Still! You might see it differently if you read it with someone else! And I’m sure there are some books here you would enjoy, Master. You’re wasting your time...  She was still smiling, after all. If I had been able to maintain that distance, then perhaps I wouldn’t have ended up hurting her...
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May 8, 2018 13:48
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Heads up - I'm going to be in NYC with my family next week. So, I can't guarantee any sort of pace until I come back on the 18th.
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May 10, 2018 16:45
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Thanks Prof you do you. Have a nice trip.
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May 10, 2018 18:17
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Have fun! Don't meet any spooky maids!
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May 10, 2018 18:22
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I'm really digging how so far this is hitting a lot of the same story beats as Chapter 4 but also is a ton less polished.
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May 10, 2018 23:13
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Thanks for your patience, folks! In lieu of a proper update, here's a photo I took that sums up the greater NYC experience to me.
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May 15, 2018 23:27
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How Tragic!
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May 18, 2018 15:39
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 BGM: Hex Though we lived in the same house, we rarely saw each other. On unlucky days, I wouldn’t see him at all. I wasn’t sure if he ate in his room or our schedules were simply misaligned, but we never had any meals together. Perhaps he was deliberately avoiding me. That has to be it... I know servant and master don’t usually eat at the same table, but even so... He could be a little less obvious about it. ... Am I really that much of a nuisance? I’m not doing anything inappropriate, am I? I’m being pleasant and sociable, aren’t I? I haven’t given him any reason to not like me, I think. I hope...He had never been very enthusiastic about my staying here, but I hadn’t been given a choice. I had been sent here by his family. Besides... ... No. Out with the negative thoughts. Gotta stay positive. Yeah! He hasn’t tried to chase me out yet. I just... haven’t broken the ice.I had to stay positive. Optimistic. Happy thoughts. And be myself. As long as I kept working at it, with enough time, Michel would surely come around and not be so distant. I’ve got a goal, so let’s get to work! First, I make supper, then I ask him to have it with me! Gotta be proactive when it comes to the reclusive types. All right, here goes! but we’re almost out of supplies. Well, so much for that.The cellar was where the nonperishable food was stored. Dried foods, smoked meats, cheeses, and a small scattering of root vegetables. Looking at this makes me feel like a soldier holding down a castle’s fortifications.Had Michel really gone ten years on nothing but this? I would have raised the white flag long ago. He said he hadn’t left the mansion at all in those ten years. I assume he at least goes out to get supplies, right? Running out of food is kind of a life-or-death matter. I can’t believe he hasn’t set foot outside even once in — What are you babbling on about? Whah! (Oh no, he overheard me...) I assumed you were talking to someone. Huh? Does anyone else live here, Master? I haven’t seen anyone... It is just the two of us. Alive, anyway. ...You mean there are ghosts? Something of the sort. Ahaha, there you go again with the jokes! I’m not a child. You’re not going to trick me like that. There are adults who believe in such things. Mmm, I suppose. But I don’t really believe in ghosts or demons or curses or any of that. The Church just tries to convince people they’re real so they can squeeze more money out of them! Am I going to have to turn you over to the Church, you blasphemer? N-No, no, no! I pray every day, honest! I don’t particularly care either way. I’m returning to my chambers. Wha — Already?! You didn’t, um, come down for food? I only came down because I heard voices. A-A moment. Please just wait a second. ...What? Our stores are almost empty. What do you normally do when you need more food? I’ll happily accompany you on a trip to the market! ...Already? That was fast. Th-There are two of us! (I really don’t eat that much, do I?)In the dim light, it was difficult to make out Michel’s expression, but I thought I could see a tinge of annoyance on his face. (Nnh... Hold your ground, Giselle. You said you wanted to get closer to him.) ... Michel was holding a tangled ball of roots. The reason I asked was because the “parsnip” looked like it was on the verge of total decomposition. See, there’s still food.He then handed it to me. W-W-W-Wait! You want to eat that?! It’s clearly seen better days! You’re going to get sick! Or are you telling me you can survive on rotten vegetables?! Of course I won’t eat it. I just figured you were hardy enough to survive. What do you think I am?! (No, he is definitely a jerk!) Or that the resulting diarrhea might reduce your appetite. You’re kidding, right?! You can’t be serious! ... A-Anyway! We should bury that outside! Then we can go purchase fresh supplies! I told you, I don’t go outside. Then how do you —  Perfect timing. You’re a servant. Make yourself useful and go retrieve the package. If it’s not a delivery but a wanderer, chase them off. What? Package? M-Master? ... H-Hold on a second! What are you talking about?! ...He’s gone. (What kind of delivery is he expecting?) He glanced over at me, then threw his gaze to the front door. ...?At his command, I raised the bar, pulling open the door. After nearly two weeks inside, the light from the setting sun almost blinded me. The world went white, my head pounding. After a few moments of intense blinking, my eyes acclimated themselves to the evening sunlight. There was no one outside, only a crate easily large enough to fit a child.  I turned back to face Michel, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Though it seemed more like he was avoiding looking at the light than at me. (He’s starting to seem more and more like a vampire... Not that I believe in vampires, of course.) (Regardless... I pray there’s nothing bad in here.) Ngh... that’s heavy! M-Master, could I get some help...? ... Gee, thanks... (I am a servant, admittedly, but this is a lot to ask of just one girl.) (A little help would sure be nice...) Once it’s inside, close and bar the door.He said dispassionately, his head still turned toward the darkness. (...As you wish, Master.) It hadn’t even been two weeks, but the lack of light was beginning to become my “normal” — the outside world growing farther and farther away. (Being holed up in here is definitely not good for me. I should go for a walk sometime — maybe plant some flowers or vegetables.) (Yeah, I like that idea! Maybe I can grow that old tangle of roots into some fresh parsnip!) (What else do we have to plant? It’d be great if there were some flower seeds.) What are you doing? Open the box, now. (...As you wish, Master.) Oh, there’s... food inside?In the box was a burlap sack filled with berries, root vegetables, and smoked meats, as well as an assortment of bread, fruits, and wine. Aside from the fruit and bread, everything else was the same as what Michel kept in the cellar. Ah...And buried beneath the burlap sack was a single book. (One book a month...) (He really hasn’t gone outside in ten years...) It appears you have begun to grasp the situation. Y-Yeah. But why? This was delivered by someone from your house, Master, wasn’t it? A servant, I assume. Why would they leave without saying anything? No one wants to talk to a cursed man. In the past, they would occasionally check in on me, but that hasn’t happened recently. They think you’re cursed? Ahh, right. You don’t believe in curses. Then come up with your own explanation. I couldn’t... Regardless, I am not normal. ... Bring the food down to the cellar. The book to the library. You are, of course, free to refuse and run back off into the woods. ...I’ll do it. All right. Then you take care of that. ... H-Hey... What is it? Um... I just noticed there’s something else in here. It’s wrapped in cloth... What could it be? Ooh, a painting! For you to hang up somewhere in the house, I presume? — ! It’s so dark I can’t see it very well, but I’m sure it’s —  BGM: The Bollinger House Wha — ?!Michel, who had kept his distance from me until that point, suddenly marched over — — !— and ripped the painting from my grasp. M-Master?His face was twisted into a look I had never seen him make before. Was it indignation? Disgust? Hatred? Panic? I couldn’t tell, but there was more than enough negative pressure to cause me to flinch back. I — Is that painting... perhaps, um, something important? ... ...A landscape painting...He muttered under his breath, the tension melting away from his face. I was left looking at his usual blank, impenetrable expression. But his eyes were still fixated on the picture, staring at it unblinkingly.  It’s not of anywhere nearby... Did they travel somewhere? Well, it’s not of that girl, so that’s an improvement... U-Um, Master? ...Oh, you’re still here? S-Still here?! Of course I’m still here! Who do you think you asked to take care of the package?! What’s with you?! Just running over and snatching the painting from me! You scared me! Could you maybe explain yourself?! What’s so special about that painting?! I don’t believe that’s any of your business. None of my — Of course it is! You ripped it out of my hands like I was some kind of thief! I have a right to know what that was all about! And maybe an apology while you’re at it! You told me to open the box, so I did! Then all of a sudden you’re angry! ... We are not equals. Do not mistake yourself for my friend. You have a “right” to know? You have no such thing. Y-You don’t have to be rude! I’ll say it again: leave if you don’t like it here. ...! I never asked for you to be here. That was your wish. (My wish?) (Are you out of your mind?) (Who would ever want to go through that?!) Nngh... (No, calm down, Giselle... You can’t get angry.) Y-You’re right, that is what I wanted. But I never wanted to make you mad, or for us to argue like this. I just wanted to get to know you better, to get closer to you... I mean, it would make things smoother for the both of us. It would make living together more enjoyable for us. ... Listen carefully. This is very important for you to understand. Do not try to involve yourself with me. Do not go probing around for information. And if you can’t do that, leave. I-I — Completely shut out. The glare he was giving me and the standoffish aura he was emanating were reflected in his tone of voice. Why? Why did he try to push me away like that?  Despite being sent here from my house, she was unaware of the monthly deliveries — as well as the reason why I lived in the mansion all by myself. Why, though, would they not have told her anything? Why had she been sent here left completely in the dark? Giselle looked up at me, fear and bewilderment in her eyes, though I thought I could see a glint of suspicion beneath it all. Like her true feelings were bubbling to the surface. Everyone had darkness in them they kept hidden. No one was exactly who they appeared to be. She was undoubtedly thinking “I’m not here because I want to be.” I knew from the moment I first saw her that her bubbly, sweet affect was all a façade. Had she thought I was dense enough to not realize? She was no different than anyone else. What I didn’t understand, though, was why she refused to leave no matter how hard I pushed. What was she hiding beneath that innocent-looking face? What was she thinking? What did she carry on her shoulders? Everyone is hiding something — deceiving those around them. I had to figure out what she really was. May I ask you something? ...Yes? On the day you arrived, you said you made a “teeny-tiny mistake” while working at my family’s house. Tell me about that. What did you do at the Bollinger estate?In that moment, brief though it was, her disposition wavered. Fear... terror? No, perhaps anger? I couldn’t tell. Nevertheless, it was abundantly clear that that was a subject she had no interest in me breaching, and so she had borne her fangs. The smile she donned now was visibly forced.  ...She couldn’t say. Why couldn’t she tell me? What had she done there? What did this woman know about that house? What did she know about me? What was concealed... beneath that smile of hers? I am the master of this house, and you are a servant. And still you refuse to tell me? L-Like I said, it’s nothing. There’s no reason to bother you... with a mere servant’s personal blunders, Master. ... What are you hiding? I am not hiding anything. Then you should be able to tell me exactly what you did at the Bollinger estate. Like I said... Tell me. ... ...Tell me. ...Ngh. You... You won’t tell me a thing about yourself! And yet you demand others tell you about themselves! Here you are, practically threatening me! Demanding I tell you something I don’t want to talk about! And yet you still haven’t told me anything about the painting! Oho... So I was right. You do have something to hide. How many times must I repeat myself? We are not equals. ...! I don’t care if it’s “insignificant,” or something you don’t want to talk about. Wha — I’m ordering you to tell me. ...A trifling blunder would not get someone sent to live with a cursed man in a house spoken of so unfavorably. Whatever she had done at the Bollinger estate, that had something to do with why she was here. If she truly hadn’t done anything, then she had something to gain from this place — or possibly from me. And if that was the case, I had to get her to talk.  Giselle’s eyes were open wide. I recognized the look she was giving me. I knew very well what that gaze meant.  It was the same as them. Fear, contempt, revulsion, repulsion. The way she acted. The way she spoke. It was exactly the same. You’re no different...I made her uncomfortable. I made her afraid. She thought I was unpleasant. She thought I was despicable. She thought I was... She thought I was an abomination! — !In a frenzy, I grabbed her by the shoulders, clamping down far more powerfully than I had meant to. ...Ngh, ow, stop — !Her face, contorted in pain, morphed into someone else’s... Who... was I directing my anger at? Where was this rage being aimed? Who are you calling... an abomination? Wha — ?! Tell me! Who?!The black furor bubbling up from within me knew no end. The girl, she ridiculed me. She denied my identity with her glare. I couldn’t escape from that phantom — that reality. Wha... What are — I never called you a — ! — !Giselle’s scream echoed in the entrance hall, rattling my eardrums. She frantically smacked my arms aside — and then I came back to my senses. She was standing a little ways away, breathing heavily, arms wrapped tight around her body, glowering at me. Showing her opposition to my touching her. ... Ah... Enlightening. N — No, no, no. You just, um, you startled me! That’s all... Some servant you are, telling your master not to touch you. I — I, um! U-Uh, oh, right! I have, uh, you know! ... I’m, um... allergic to people! It’s a very, uh, very unique condition, I hear! I mean, can you believe that?! See, you know how some people get all red and itchy when they touch a dog or cat? It’s that, except for people, so... ...So? So... I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. ... I beg your forgiveness... Why don’t you speak your mind? What? N-No, that’s not... I can somewhat sympathize with your plight — being made to apologize even though you’re hurting. I raised my hand against you first, after all. ...Then you, um... you forgive me? Sympathy does not equate to forgiveness. ... Now, you take care of the package. I’m heading back to my chambers. Um... ...What is it? You’re not... going to make me leave, after what I just did? No, I am not. For it would seem I can make you leave on your own whenever I so please. ...Besides, I had yet to learn what she had done. It would be exceedingly difficult to get the story from her own mouth, which left me with one option: 
Quinn2win fucked around with this message at 16:51 on May 19, 2018 |
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May 19, 2018 15:25
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Wait he touched her? Why isn't she hyper dead?
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May 19, 2018 16:17
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Insane Totoro posted:Wait he touched her? Why isn't she hyper dead? because that's fictional Michel, it's clear whoever made up the WHGiselle and Michel's tale added it to embellish the tale to make it a sad tragedy.
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May 19, 2018 16:19
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ProfessorProf posted:
These two images seem to be messed up here. The first one is of a line already shown in the text, and should be the second image. The intended second image seems to be missing. Sacrificial Toast fucked around with this message at 16:52 on May 19, 2018 |
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May 19, 2018 16:24
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I love the fictional escalation from she's 'allergic to people' to everything Michel touching withering away. Happy to be reading this again! Also I have theories based on the fiction and the interactions that we have seen but it's probably pretty mundane. He's obviously been seen to do something taboo and exiled for it! I think the only thing worth of that in a tragedy would be some sort of victimless crime. He could be a scapegoat too! But I feel like Michel's character wouldn't get off that easy without a real dark backstory.
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May 19, 2018 16:50
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Sacrificial Toast posted:These two images seem to be messed up here. The first one is of a line already shown in the text, and should be the second image. The second image seems to be missing. Fixed.
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May 19, 2018 16:52
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Toalpaz posted:I love the fictional escalation from she's 'allergic to people' to everything Michel touching withering away. Happy to be reading this again! Also I have theories based on the fiction and the interactions that we have seen but it's probably pretty mundane. He's obviously been seen to do something taboo and exiled for it! I think the only thing worth of that in a tragedy would be some sort of victimless crime. He could be a scapegoat too! But I feel like Michel's character wouldn't get off that easy without a real dark backstory.
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May 19, 2018 22:16
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 BGM: Desolation (Piano) Michel wasn’t getting any friendlier, either. He continued to either snub or bluntly dismiss me whenever we crossed paths. I didn’t understand why he acted that way around me. But there was little point in asking when he seemed to think there was little point in talking to me at all. Although at first I had been sure there was some way to get him to warm up to me, the more time I spent in the mansion, the more my willpower began to feel like it was at its breaking point. I could tell myself to stay positive until I was blue in the face, but it would only work for so long.  (I’m glad he hasn’t covered it back up.)Blue moonlight shone quietly through the stained-glass window, vainly illuminating some of the room. I hadn’t noticed until now, but the room with the stained-glass window appeared to be modeled after a chapel. Rows of pews faced the window, below which sat what used to be a pulpit. There was very little left of it, though, and an awkward length of silver was mounted to the pulpit’s front face — what was, I assumed, formerly a cross. Upon further reflection, rather than facing the window, the pews seemed to be pointed at the pulpit — or perhaps the cross hanging on it. I wasn’t sure why there would be a chapel in a mansion, but I had no one to ask about it. (For a house of this size, a statue of Christ or the Virgin Mary seems more appropriate.) (It’s a very well made chapel, at any rate...) ...I doubted Michel had had it built for himself. There would be no reason for him to cover the window if that were the case. Nor had I ever seen him come to pray. (He doesn’t seem like one to believe in God.) (God...) (I’m not even sure if I...)If God really existed, then surely the world would be a much more pleasant, peaceful place. No unfair disparities in money or power. No senseless misfortune. I certainly wouldn’t have found myself here, either... But God was evidently quite fond of giving mankind “trials,” so He would probably tell me with a straight face that this was one too. Or, perhaps, we simply had a false impression of Him, and He didn’t actually give us anything... He merely sat back and watched from somewhere far, far away. It wasn’t His job to bring peace to the world or ensure our laws were fair. That was all mankind’s responsibility.  (Maybe the Bible has answers...) ... (Why should I pray to someone so far away?) (How do I know my prayer is even getting there?) (But still...) (it’s not like I have any other options...) I already know where I’m going to work. It’s a really prominent noble house, waaaay out of reach of some small-time merchants like us! You never know, this could be my big break. Oh, I’m just kidding, hehe... Don’t look so worried. I’ll be just fine, honestly. I’ll make enough money for us to get back onto our feet. Oh, for goodness’ sake! I can handle it! Leave everything to me! You just wait. I’ll make our family into something you can be proud of. I’ll be fine. Yeah... say bye to Mom for me. I probably won’t be home for a while... What?! You’re afraid I’m going to make some careless mistake? I-I’m not that airheaded! I can be a refined and elegant young lady. Those nobles won’t even know what to believe anymore. If you don’t believe me, how about I give you a little taste? ...Ahem. How are you doing this fine morning, Master? Your morning beverage is ready, prepared with the utmost of care. See, how about that? Not bad, huh? Whaaaat? You really think it sounded forced? It would be a lie to say business was doing well. We struggled to squeak by day-to-day after taxes... but we couldn’t just abandon the shop and leave the capital either... so we tried to make the best of what we were able to take in between the three of us. Then, my sister fell in love with a moderately well-off aristocrat. Both my mom and I were supportive of her and her desire to marry. But their union almost fell apart because she was “not suitable” for him. Merchants were hardly the lowest class — what we lacked, instead, was wealth. We needed another source of money, beyond what the shop took in. If only we had money, my sister could get married. If only we had money, my mom wouldn’t have to work so hard. If only we had money... It was then that someone from the distinguished Bollinger estate approached me. He said they were in need of abigails and would love to have me. He said that if I agreed to work for them, the Bollinger estate would take care of my family. Generally speaking, noble houses took abigails from other, lower-ranked noble houses. It was unthinkable for someone of my status to receive such an offer. So I took it as a once-in-a-lifetime chance and accepted the offer.  and that Mom is getting enough money to live comfortably... That’s all I can do... They’re nobility... They have plenty of money... Enough to spare some... ... Ah...The light shining through the stained-glass window began to grow murky, fading into blackness. It felt like a message from on high — that no, my prayers would not be answered. The bluish-white illumination shining down upon me disappeared as clouds blocked the moon. ... Oh, come on... You don’t even want to look at a sullied woman like me? ... Oh, for heaven’s sake... I never asked to end up like this... Enough to spare some... ... Oh, come on... You don’t even want to look at a sullied woman like me? ... Oh, for heaven’s sake... I never asked to end up like this...Giselle was sitting at one of the pews in the room with the stained-glass window. Just looking at her, you might have thought she was offering a prayer, but the words coming from her mouth were anything but prayerful. They were filled with resentment. (“They have plenty of money”... “a sullied woman”...) (and then “I never asked to end up like this”...) (So this is what’s beneath that façade.) (Most likely, money’s what she’s after. All I need to do now is confirm my suspicions with them.) (Just what awful secrets will I uncover?) ...I gave Giselle — sitting in the pew with her head drooped — a cursory glance before leaving the chapel. I had somewhere else to be.  Naturally, the heavens did not rejoice at my leaving the house. It had been ten years since I had seen the mansion from the outside, and it hadn’t changed one bit. A gloomy scar upon the earth, shrouded in darkness. Hardly the kind of place someone would enthusiastically approach. Nevertheless, it was better than that house.  Michel. Wh-What?! Michel... Bollinger?! Er — J-Just one moment! I’ll be right there! C-Come in. It’s a humble abode, but make yourself at home... ... And how was I supposed to do that? I am, regrettably, fresh out of carrier pigeons. Ah, erm, right... yes. My apologies. ...This man, living in a small cottage not far from the mansion, had been hired by the Bollinger family. His job: to watch over me. That said, we never actually interacted. He was tasked with keeping track of whether I was still alive, and whether I remained in the mansion. The monthly package from my family was delivered to him, which he then passed on to me. It was insipidly convoluted, but it was indicative of how much they wanted to avoid anyone learning about me. Well then, erm, what can I do for you?The manservant was visibly rattled. Afraid, too. But not because of the difference in our social ranks. I had a pretty good idea what he had been told about me. He was afraid of me — or, more specifically, my “curse.” People fear that which they cannot comprehend. Not just children. Adults as well. They fear demons, witches, and curses — anything impure or not of this world. But I had long since gotten used to being viewed as such. It didn’t sadden me. It didn’t disappoint me. It didn’t pain me. Some things were too foolish to concern yourself over. (Though it certainly doesn’t make me feel good, either...)I was, on some level, annoyed. That woman’s appearance at the mansion had created ripples in my once tranquil life. So before I got into the real reason for my visit, I decided to... take out a bit of my frustration.  A-Ahh... how rude of me. You’re right. My sincerest apologies. Your job is to keep watch over me. If the mere sight of me has you trembling, what will you do if I try to run? I would have little trouble escaping. Th-That would be quite unfortunate! What would I ever tell your mother?! I’m not sure that would end well at all... You could lose everything you’ve been paid so far... In fact, you might be lucky to get out with your life. S-S-Surely your mother would not... You are aware of who you’re dealing with, right? Aah... Michel, the cursed youngest son of the Bollinger family... who made a pact with the Devil... I don’t need a blade to take your life. You wouldn’t even make it back to report anything. H-Have mercy... Lord Michel... Please do not leave the mansion! Please, spare me! ... Only joking. Wha... I don’t have the power to kill by way of curse. ...The man fell silent, but the look on his face said,  (Once someone’s got an idea planted in their head, it’s nigh impossible to get rid of it.) (I am so cursed that anyone can see it... that I need to be locked away in a dark mansion...) ... I am here because I had a question for you, not to warn you that I plan to run away. A question? ...For me? Yes. Approximately three weeks ago, a black-haired woman came to the mansion. Tell me what you know about her. I was told there would be an abigail coming, but that’s all. I don’t know anything else about her. ... I-I swear, that’s all I know! I haven’t been told anything else! I believe you. I never thought they would tell you anything. R-Right...He had been hired to observe me, but that’s all he was: a hired hand. He wouldn’t be privy to the Bollinger family’s internal affairs. Take this. A letter? I need you to deliver it to my mother. You could have just left it in the box from this month’s package and I would have collected it when I dropped off the next one... I am in urgent need of information. Will you do this for me? Y-Yes... Why yes, absolutely! I’ll fetch a delivery boy tomorrow morning! Much appreciated. Good night. Y-You too... Do take care. ... ...Yes? Is it true that you don’t have... Would you like me to sew your mouth shut so you can never open it again? N — N-N-Not at all! My sincerest apologies, Lord Michel! That was horribly disrespectful! G-G-Good night! ... Ahh... cursed I most certainly am. It was almost exactly a month after Giselle had moved in. And shortly thereafter, on a bone-chilling night, everything came crashing down. The rift between us grew deeper, and the wall between us impossibly high, when I lay bare the scars in her chest and mercilessly plunged my knife into them.
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May 20, 2018 14:35
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 BGM: Desolation (Piano) Ugh... I hate everything.My spirits were getting darker and darker, like they were slowly sinking into a deep morass. I had been at the mansion for a month, and every day since felt twice as long as it should have. I had been optimistic, at first. I’d even had a little hope that me and Michel could get along together. But it hadn’t taken long for that hope to be shattered, and the cheer locked away inside me. We lived in the same house, but we never spoke anymore. On the few occasions we did cross paths, he just gave me a cold glare and nothing more, scorn and suspicion in his eyes. Whenever he looked at me like that, it felt as though my throat was being constricted — like I was deep underwater and running out of air. Like my very presence in the world was a crime. I never could have imagined just how agonizing constant rejection was. I started despising others. Despising myself. Despising the world. Convinced there was no one who could set me free. I considered running away from everything, rather than live like this another day, but I would have done so long ago if that were actually an option. If they found out I had fled — that I had acted outside their wishes — my mom and sister would pay. I had succeeded in allowing my sister to get married and my mom to live comfortably. I had given them happiness. I couldn’t take that away from them again. Not after what I had to go through to do it... ... (Pull yourself together! That’s not who you are!) (Be positive...)The negativity didn’t only come from my interactions with Michel, either. No, there seemed to be some kind of terrible presence within the mansion that twisted people’s hearts. The mansion was, in fact, a bit of a local legend, which I had been informed about before being sent here. People claimed it was cursed, and that an evil witch had lived in it for many, many years. Michel joked that he was the witch, but I didn’t believe him. ... (I’m not usually one to believe in magic or curses at all...) (but being here so long, I can’t help but wonder...) ...Anyway. Things can’t go on like this.If I was to remain in this house, the situation needed to improve. A lot. I was going to lose my mind if things kept up as they were. (I was ready to give up once,) (but I’m going to try closing the distance between us again.)If I could get him to open up even the tiniest bit, then maybe that would make living here a little easier. I wasn’t going to try to make us best friends or anything, just repair our relationship enough that being around each other wasn’t torturous. (I’ve got my work cut out for me...) (How do I even begin that conversation?) (Heck, what is that conversation even going to be about?) (Maybe I should hold off, do it another day...) (...No. I’ve made up my mind to do this, so I should get to it quickly. The longer I wait, the worse things are going to get...) (and eventually, there won’t be any fixing anything.) (We need to talk. We need to be in the same room for more than ten seconds, and we need to get to know each other.) (He needs to know...) (that he’s not the reason I have something to hide.) Okay... let’s do this! My stride was slow and ponderous, but at the very least, I did my best to keep some semblance of a smile on my face. (Ahh, this is one time where I’d really like to have someone to give me a little nudge.) ... (Breathe in, breathe out.) ...Okay. ...Pardon, Master? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about... ... Master? ...The door wasn’t locked. As was the rest of the house, his room was shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the candle in my hand. Master? Are you there, Master? ... I guess I missed him... (It’s probably best if I don’t stick around for long. He’s already got a less than stellar impression of me.) (I don’t want to imagine what’ll happen if he thinks I’ve been snooping through his room.) (Yeah, I should get out of here...)I spun around on my heels, taking a step toward the door —  I knew I had to get out of there as quickly as possible, but I was intrigued by that object. Something he kept hidden in a room I was forbidden to enter. Maybe it was a clue to discovering Michel’s secrets. I reached my hand down toward the object, knowing good and well I shouldn’t. Was it because I wanted to learn more about him? Was it because I wanted to tear down the veil he hid behind? Or was it... the whispers of the witch?  BGM: Portrait of White I pulled off the sheet, revealing a framed painting of what appeared to be a noblewoman with porcelain-white skin. What stood out about her, though, was that the woman’s hair was as pale as her skin. And then — Wha...— I noticed something else. Wide gashes ravaged the canvas, damaging her face beyond repair.  I imagined it had once been a painting of a beautiful woman, but there was hardly a trace of that left. The only feeling it inspired anymore was a deep chill. This damage was not accidental. It was deliberate, angry, and the contempt emanating from within the frame was stifling. Thick, suffocating blackness seeped into me... Why would anyone... She was surely a most beautiful woman... Angelic, even...A storm of questions assaulted me. Who was she? Why had her face been carved up? Why had the painting been covered? What had happened? Who could have... (There’s only one person who could have done this...) (Michel... Why on earth...?) — ! You saw the painting, didn’t you? Ah... You entered my room without permission... and you saw the painting, didn’t you? I, um — ! “Angelic,” you say? There’s nothing angelic about that damned woman.I scrambled to make some excuse, but nothing would come out of my mouth. All I could do was tremble.   Why did you enter my chambers? ...Mi... Mich... What were you looking for? ...Ah... nnh... Answer me. Ah... ahh... aah...My mouth wouldn’t move properly. I couldn’t make my voice come out. It was like I wasn’t even in my own body anymore. The wisps of air that were drawn into my lungs were expelled as hoarse gasps. My breaths were shallow and rapid. I was inhaling, but I wasn’t getting any air. I was terrified. Terrified. Terrified, terrified, terrified. Of his eyes. Of his voice. Of his feelings. Of the knife he was holding up to me. Of the terrible past I was chained to. The man’s voice. The man’s very flesh terrified me! What were you trying to find, and what were you planning to do with it? ...Ngh... nnh...! Answer me. Hahh... Another thing you refuse to tell me, then? (No, no! I’m trying!) (Nothing’s coming out of my mouth, though!) (Everything’s so bright,) (and I can’t... catch my breath!) (I can’t breathe!) (An idea...? What... What do you mean?!) Money is what brought you to the Bollinger estate. And it’s what brought you to me too. ...! There are countless people who would love to see that house fall. And a noble family fears nothing more than disrepute. ...Hah... ahh... You were, I presume, approached by someone scheming the Bollingers’ downfall. ...N... No... And as it just so happens, the Bollingers have a very unfortunate secret — one they are quite desperate to keep under wraps. Me. ...Ngh...! Someone suspected I might still be alive, so they sent you to dig up information about me. My very existence threatens to tear down that house. The cursed youngest son of the Bollinger family. Michel, who made a pact with the Devil — who is supposed to be dead, but is very much alive. ... You sweet-talked your way into that house, and into information about me and my present situation, and you meant to trade that information for money. I bet whoever it was put quite a handsome price on it too. Or maybe the one plotting to ruin the Bollinger family is you. N... No...! No... th... that’s... not true! Then enlighten me. Please... h-he — hear me out... I didn’t know anything about you... I — I wasn’t... sniffing around... or trying... to bring you harm in any way...! Then tell me. If that’s not the reason you wormed your way into the Bollinger estate, and that’s not what you’re doing here, then tell me what is. I — I-I — Tell me why you came to this mansion. (You want me... to tell you about that...?) (No way... That’s asking way too much...!) Tell me. (I simply... wanted to make our life together a little more comfortable... To bring some warmth to this frigid relationship we have!) (That’s the only reason I wanted to find out more about you!) I must assume I’m right, then, Giselle. (Aah...) (I must tell him he’s wrong... I must tell him I mean him no harm...) (but I can’t say anything!) A merchant’s daughter became an abigail at a noble house? Could you come up with a more obvious lie?! ...Ngh... (Your — Your father’s the one who...) (Wait...) (How does he know... that I’m from... a merchant family...?) You look perplexed. I may be imprisoned in this house, not free to move about as I please, but I have my ways. ... I know everything. (Everything...) (Then he knows... about... that too...) Oh, yes, I do know. ...Pl... Plea... ...d... don’t...! In your quest for money — ...Don’t say it...!   He carved through my chest with those words, causing me to completely lose control of myself. In a panicked frenzy, and probably screaming all the way, I knocked the man aside and ran, and ran, and ran. ...  Oh, how I wished a bolt of lightning would come crashing down upon me. Maybe if God burned my tainted flesh with a divine thunderbolt, it would get rid of some of the filth. But the jagged streaks of light cascading across the dark clouds did not strike me, only creating restless grumbles in the sky. Hahh, hahh, haaaah! Hahh, hahhh... Hahh... hah... haah... Aaaah... Ah, aah... aaaah... aaaaaaaah...! Nnh, mnh... aaaaaaaahh! Whyyyy?!I knew that if I fled that mansion, I would likely be causing trouble for my mom and sister, but I was helpless to stop myself. All I could do was run from all that threatened me with no regard for the consequences. Before long, small droplets of rain began falling, which soon grew heavy enough to penetrate the forest canopy and reach the ground where I stood. The downpour drowned out my tears and my cries. Because I had rushed from the mansion without even putting on a cloak, each cold, winter droplet stung bitterly against my flesh. But the bite of the rain was like a warm embrace compared to what I’d been through before. Michel had spoken the truth... As much as I wanted to deny it, to avert my eyes, reality was forever engraved in this body... No... No! I don’t want to think about it!But I had no say in the matter... 
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May 22, 2018 13:28
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That scene is super intense, partially because of the slow and dramatic way that the music(Portrait of White) builds up.
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May 22, 2018 14:09
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 Content Warning: The next scene includes an explicit textual depiction of rape. The first link contains the full update. The second contains a brief summary for those who would prefer to skip it.Part 6 - Her Crime Summary Quinn2win fucked around with this message at 17:29 on May 24, 2018 |
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May 24, 2018 13:28
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No wonder she invented the much more romantic WHG story. 
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May 24, 2018 17:13
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I just wanted to say Necto Nedio is a hell of a song, in all senses of the phrase.
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May 24, 2018 19:33
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gently caress. Wow.
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May 24, 2018 23:59
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Giselle is a nice girl and I really don't like when bad things happen to her  
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May 25, 2018 00:30
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tudabee posted:Giselle is a nice girl and I really don't like when bad things happen to her Welcome to the House in Fata Morgana. Buckle up and keep kleenex handy. You're gonna need it.
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May 25, 2018 04:40
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| # ? Jun 11, 2024 14:46 |
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Eugh, I thought it was going here as soon as it was revealed Michel's dad slept with Giselle. EDIT: "Not only has it taken away my daughter, now it’s trying to take away my husband!" So yeah, I'm guessing the 'woman' in the portrait is, well, Michel. He's 'cursed' because he's trans and won't accept living as a woman, so they sent him away and try to ignore his existence while providing him material care. He slashes up the pictures because he hates how he looks, especially when presented as a woman. Low-light conditions and few mirrors might help his dysphoria. PetraCore fucked around with this message at 04:52 on May 25, 2018 |
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May 25, 2018 04:43
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