Trial of Flight: M'Foxy

Seta's mask reflects M'Foxy's face, and he leaves her question hanging in the air. Was it rhetorical? Perhaps.

Regardless, if she wants an answer she will have to look within, not to the gatekeeper.

"The souls here exist in perpetual uncertainty," Seta says, their voice full of calm, eternal patience. "Abandoned pasts, drifting presents, and murky futures. Perhaps you can bring one of them some clarity."

They turn, and the grayness moves down the hall. They lead you to a door-shaped hole in the wall, Not a door, because that would require a barrier of some sort. Wood, a hinge. This is more like a taut black curtain strung up in a rectangular piece.

"You cannot fight fate, any more than you can fight the wind," Seta warns. There is no breeze in these halls. The air is dead still as Seta sends you through the curtain. "But that does not mean you are bound by its whims."

It's as brief as blinking, and you find yourself in a new world.

TRIAL OF FLIGHT
You're standing in a field of flowers, their petals brushing against your ankles. In the distance, you see your Pokemon hovering just out of reach, its wings iridescent in the sun. As you try to reach it, you realize you can fly too. The flowers below you blur into streaks of color as you soar higher into the sky.

Catch up to your Pokemon and land safely.

SPOILER: Click to show

{THEME}

M'Foxy

The wind did not slow.

M'Foxy grabbed, at the pidove, at the air, at her own back. None of it mattered, or did anything.

She had already done this, though, hadn't she? Had she? She had no idea, already-done and would-be-done tumbling together in her mind, scattering her thoughts.

The grass was a singular, solid thing, a stream of pale yellow-green, interspersed only by flecks of color from flowers.

M'Foxy twisted, trying to feel- this had to be a mechanism, right? Steampunk metal and taut canvas- but her hands found only herself, and the wide wings, both warm and flesh and real. She- she had to do something. She could do something.

Panic starting to lace into her, she twisted to grab at the wings- and when they were too strong, focused on one, grabbing at it with both hands to hold it down.

She then spun, wing twisting her around, but she still did not slow, even as she crashed hard into the ground.

Theron woke with a sharp gasp, skin slick with sweat, smell of death and decay still in his nose and mouth. He kicked free of the blankets, staggering onto the uneven floor of the inn. Aloth glanced over at him, a question in his eyes, but he didn't ask it- Only mutely getting up and following after Theron as he left.

It was the dead of night, rain streaming down in a limp downpour, but Theron had no way of noticing, single-minded in his goal. The nightmare- if it even was that- haunted him, the face swelling in his vision when his eyes closed. He walked straight for the tree, wordlessly past Edér, who eyed him as he refilled his pipe.

Theron moved to the base of the hanging tree, looking up at it- and there she was, the woman from his nightmare. But- different from the other hung bodies, a glow clung to her like a funeral shroud, a strange purple light that refused to touch anything else around it.

Theron reached for her, and feeling his presence swell and grow in the violet-seeped world, she opened her eyes.

"Ahhhh," She breathed, a strange light and relief in her voice. "There you are, Watcher."

"I- Who are you?" He asked, feeling that the most reasonable start.

She blinked, disappointment crossing her face, along with a stray beetle. "You didn't come for me specifically?" She sighed, and shook her head, body shifting as she did so. "I am Caldara de Berranzi, an alumnus of the Vailian Royal Academy of Animantic Sciences. I go where I'm needed, yes?" She blinked down at him, working her mouth a moment. "And what of you?"

Whispers trailed along the edges of his hearing. "Theron. I... I'm just a vagabond. I came here to wait for things to quiet down..."

The dwarf barked out a laugh, corners of her eyes crinkling in what could have, in life, been mirth. "Well, quiet isn't something you're likely to get anymore. Quiet and Watchers don't oft pair together, no?"

Theron looked up at her. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

A sigh eased between her yellowed teeth. "Theron, I can't help you- not anymore. There is another Watcher- he took over an unwanted keep. Maybe he'll be able to aid you. But..." Her empty gaze fixed on him, and he found himself stilled.

"A Watcher you are, and a Watcher you'll remain."

He could not sleep- too much roiled in his thoughts, kits tangled around each other in the dust. Moon-Dancer let a ragged sigh between his teeth, and sat up from the bedroll. The cavern was dark and still, preternaturally so. Noctra kept this place as her den, sheltered and quiet-

And, though, he could still feel Namiira pacing outside, paw-steps mirroring Lorkhaj's heartbeat, thump-thump.

"Lad?"

Moon-Dancer glanced over, seeing Brynjolf looking at him, a worried frown creasing his face.

"Ah, this one is well," Moon-Dancer attempted to appease. "Simple nerves."

Brynjolf shifted, leaning to bear his weight on his hand. "We'll be alright, lad. Mercer... He's had this coming for a while. Karliah's the best we've got. And now..." He looked down at his hand, the dark leather glove he now wore.

The armor they all wore- Noctra's gift to them. Moon-Dancer hadn't been terribly keen on the idea of bargains with spirits, but- he understood Karliah's vengeance. And that had been worth a bargain or two.

"Now Brynjolf thinks we can taken on Mercer? Though he knows we are coming, and has the advantage..." Moon-Dancer mused, tail swishing in an unkempt pulse.

He heard Brynjolf move, and thought little of it- only to look up, the man's hands around one of his own. "You have to trust me, lad. Mercer destroyed the guild. He killed Karliah's love. And you- lad, you're the best thief the guild's ever seen." His eyes slid to the side, in the darkness, and he continued in a hushed tone. "I'd argue the best thief since the Grey Fox. Mercer... he knows we're coming, but he's cocky. He's gotten through all this unscathed. And that will be his undoing."

Moon-Dancer blinked, and slowly nodded. "Then it is decided. We rest, and then we will stop Mercer. Perhaps Moon-Dancer will even allow Karliah the joy of killing him."

Brynjolf laughed, and clapped his shoulder, something Moon-Dancer found very Nord of him, but rather fond. "Perhaps, lad. I'd like to see it."

M'Foxy heaved, a ragged series of coughs escaping her. Her head spun, thoughts and memories that were not her own, laying in the placid grassy field. There was soft birdsong and the whirring of insects, and a pounding that encased the entirety of her head, throbbing with her pulse.

Things have to change.

The voice in her skull nearly made her retch, M'Foxy scrabbling to her hands and knees, panic freezing her veins. She knew that voice- She heard it every single day. When he offered breakfast to Leon, when he kissed Iseri on her way to work, when he called Ahimil to check on him, when he laughed at Alistair's texts.

That was his voice.

Theron, I can't help you-

It wasn't real, was it? Like those- Thoughts, or dreams, or visions- The ones where he was an elf, or a big cat thing, or had a mundane home. It wasn't real, unlike-

Unlike-

She had to get out of here.

Not while we're apart.

M'Foxy scrabbled to her feet, pausing to wipe off grass and dirt and scraped knees. She turned- but there was only grasses, plains, no hint of the doorway she'd passed through. Just Seta, watching from the distance.

"I'm losing my mind," She whispered, and it was so terribly quiet.

You have to trust me.

M'Foxy whirled, but there was no one there. Just her, stupid wings that didn't work, and the pidove hovering in the air. Unmoving, but wings still flapping like a poorly-coded follower. "Trust you?" She echoed. "You stole my voice-" His voice, her voice. It wasn't the voice she was using now- but- it was still hers- his-

Right?

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, to the wind and air. "Why- why did you show me all of that?"

I want to help.

"Help?" She laughed. She had managed for decades, on her own. Reliant on her own intel, her own skills, her own actions. She didn't-

I was marked leader of the Uncrowned. I swore an oath.
I go where I'm needed, yes? Quiet isn't something you're likely to get anymore.
As long as everyone can get together- That's all we can do.
He knows we're coming- That will be his undoing.
You're a compelling sort. I'm sure whomever dares to come this way will listen to what you have to say.

M'Foxy hadn't noticed falling to her knees again. "I..."

"I need help."

When M'Foxy walked back over, Theron was just... sitting in the grass. "This place is pretty peaceful! More people should come here. Lay in the grass. Have a little personal therapy session. It'd help."

To try and keep herself from freaking out, M'Foxy opted to also sit down. This... thing... it seemed like her. But also an evil omniscient disease-entity from inside a MMO that pulled its content from peoples' brains. So. There was a lot to consider.

She needed to ask something specific- carefully worded, with precise intent. She knew whenever anyone asked her something vague, it always ended badly- she tended to get off track. Couldn't let that happen here.

"What the fuck is even happening."

Alright, bad start.

But Theron just laughed. "Well, bestie, politics are currently fuck, global warming is roasting everyone alive, and eggs are now like eight dollars! So overall everything's going splendid." M'Foxy let out a sigh, and Theron laughed again. "Not what you meant, yeah? Answered the wrong question? Yes, this is what everyone's thinking when you do this. But like, fondly."

M'Foxy rubbed at her face. Was this really what talking to him was like? The conversation was only just started, and she was exhausted.

Theron seemed to take pity. "This is a game," He said, spreading his arms to gesture at the world around them. "What's happening here? It's nonsense- and you can't tell me it isn't!" His voice was insistent, but like, almost manically so, eyes bright. "Like, like, what?"

This was almost hard to watch and listen to.

"The first thing you did here was give yourself fox ears and fox tails, manifested in some woman's office-tent, flirted with her enough to warrant a rock-ghost monster almost spawning in the room, left the tent, and then kicked a metal skyscraper dragon to death alongside a talking leaf gecko and a tits-out man's talking pig?"

M'Foxy winced a bit at that- because, the sentient brain worm puppet show was right. "But-" She tried, struggling more than she wanted to. "But what I saw-"

Theron pointed at her with both hands. "That was you, my dear. That was your brain worms wiggling around. Which, like, I know you're going to therapy about. I'm proud of you." He gave a shrug. "The stuff here is like... It's not picky? It's not like 'ooh, this guy has state secrets and hacked NASA for fun once- which was funny, honestly- let's get that stuff. It's..." He paused to think, scrunching his head. "It's like... Manifesting." He said, spreading his hands and gesturing as he said it, like it was an inspirational tiktok.

"... manifesting."

"Manifesting." He repeated, with the same air as before. "You heard 'bluh bluh Mistra Scary biggest fears' or read it or whatever, and you subconsciously thought about what your biggest fear was."

M'Foxy squinted. "So it's... my fault that the game spawned classified information about my family, and scared me half to death."

"Yeah."

M'Foxy buried her face in her arms, and let out a muffled scream. She jolted, head snapping up, when Theron moved to sit next to her, putting an arm over her shoulder.

"Hey, but that's good news. This is a game, and you get to control it. Mostly."

"I think the game developers get to control it."

Theron shook his head. "You've watched so many speedruns. Devs can't control anything. Least of all players determined to break things. And that's what you're good at, isn't it? Breaking walls that get in your way?"

M'Foxy was quiet, and hadn't quite unfolded from where she was sitting, knees tucked to her chest. Her tails were splayed out behind her. The pidove, still glittering, had not moved from his coordinates above. "So I guess this isn't helping me any, is it." If she was infesting this game with her own issues- her past, her depression, her thoughts- it wasn't good for her, and it certainly wasn't good for anyone else. That... wasn't even a question.

With a heave, Theron pulled M'Foxy to her feet, only keeping hold of her hand long enough for her to steady. She sniffed, taking another deep breath. "How... how do I know you're trying to help me?" He was labeled as 'Parasite' for a reason.

Theron gave another shrug. He was fond of those. "You can't." He said, simply. "If you feel like I'm not helping, though, just unequip it like any other class."

"I already tried." M'Foxy protested, arms crossed. "It has to be fully upgraded, and it isn't. You're only tier... three?" Halfway there, but the most expensive half was yet to come.

Theron just grinned. "Yeah, but I couldn't talk to you at tier 3. It's fully upgraded."

"No, it isn't."

"Because you're thinking linearly." Theron not-explained. "But- you started this quest months ago. Then, it was tier 3. But, now, I'm fully functional, baby. Don't you remember? Crash landing at the flight thing?"

M'Foxy blinked. She... she did remember. It had happened only a little bit ago- but- but she had only talked to Seta a bit ago- right?

"Wait, wait, hang on," Theron interjected, taking her by the shoulders. "It's okay- It's like- uhhhh. Oh! It's sequence breaking. Y'know? Like in wow, where you level boost and do all the current stuff before running back do to the starter area quests, even though those happened 'first' chronologically. Because they didn't. Yeah?"

Astonishingly, M'Foxy nodded. "... yeah, that makes sense." It made her head hurt, but it was probably something she just had to ruminate on.

She looked up, and squinted at the pidove. "... how long has he been up there?"

Theron glanced over again. "Uh, to him? Like a minute. I don't- I know Ali says pigeons are smart, but I don't think pidove are. He's fine."

M'Foxy let out a slow sigh. "Ooookay. Okay."

Catch up to your Pokemon and land safely.

"Okay." She closed her eyes, wings flaring behind her. "How do I fly this thing..."

"You must feel flight." Theron said, eyes glittering.

"... what?"

"When you feel the unbridled joy of flight, you will fly." Theron quoted, now grinning.

M'Foxy blinked at him, then looked up at the pidove. "I think I can do unbridled joy." She said- and launched into the air.

You cannot fight fate, any more than you can fight the wind.

And she was up, iridescent wings beating to hold her up- and with each and every stroke she was pushing herself faster, flowers streaking into blurry rainbows, watercolor paints running together into a beautiful impression. The pidove stayed just ahead of her, faint birdsong caught on the wind to reach her ears.

But that does not mean you are bound by its whims.

She reached out, stretching, pushing her wings that much faster, arm that much longer- and grabbed the pidove, tucking him close. The wind tore at her, wings jerking and shuddering in the wind, wobbling off balance-

But this was her world, now, and she simply remained steady.

Here, in the bright sun, with the wind rushing through her hair, freedom spread out like an infinite canvas before her-

M'Foxy realized that, despite all she was, she was happy.