The rain threatens to fall over their heads, no one saying anything - silence reigns.
It is the musician who speaks up first.
...Confess who she is? Define herself?
Who is she at the end of the day?

Cypress is who she is in the game, but her Self? Is she a tree? Is she a evergreen, still bright in the depths of winter? It feels right, but-

The tide rolls back, something is coming - the hair on the back of her neck prickles.

Another memory passes by. A quick one, quicker than a simple blink.

"Felicity Soleil LaChance!"
The two children talking pause - the bluette yells back to the house. "Yes, maman?"
"You've been outside for 2 hours! Come in! Supper's going to get cold!"
"Ok!"
"...Your middle name is Soleil? As in 'sun' Soleil?"
"Yeah!" A second of silence. "Is that...odd?"
"No, no it isn't! I just got something to call you now."
You blink.
"What?"
The other person beams at you.
"Yeah! I get to call you Sun!"

...The answer is clearer than she ever thought it to be.
(...She's come this far, hasn't she? In the end, she always was the sun.)
With a breath, she begins.
"My name...is Felicity. I'm a grocery store cashier, and...well, it's a thankless job." She chuckles a bit. "Work gets hard, and despite us having to give persistence and great service - it's pretty exhausting. But I keep going. You never know your work is appreciated until you leave it."
You don't know that you care about someone so deeply, until they leave you forever.
"Besides...someone would want me to keep going, despite everything."

Inhale. Exhale. Keep going, don't falter. For a moment, you see her breath hitch - catching any tears from starting.

"I define myself as the sun - a old friend once called me that, actually. It was a nickname, and eventually, it became a name I would just...respond to. Just like that. And despite them being...not around anymore, I still think it fits. It's me, regardless of anything that may happen, I will always be the sun."

(You will always be Soleil. Even if they're gone, they'll always be with you.)
A free hand moved into a fist, white knuckled.

"For what is the sun but the giver of all, still burning no matter whatever may be it its way? Light, life, joy, optimism, the strength to keep going despite living for thousands of years - all of those things fit me. All of those things represent me! Even if things seem hopeless, we always remember that the sun will rise in the morrow! That light will break through the dark! No matter what happens, the sun will always remain! Steadfast, everburning!"

The Will to keep moving against a evergrowing tide. The Will to press on, despite the ache of grief and sorrow. For the sake of others. For the sake of the self.

A roar of water threatens to echo in her ears - there's the sound of something rushing towards them. She continues on, regardless, saltwater springs to the corners of her eyes. "And I refuse to let myself be defined by something who threatens to destroy and take it away! Philo Sinclair the XIV would have wanted me to still remain here, to still hang on despite everything being stacked against us, and I know that because I Know him as much as I Know myself!"

Her tail is wagging, her ears have flattened to the sides of her head - outside, the cabin, a tidal wave rides higher and higher, threatening to block out everything in eternal night.
"Philo was a member of the Sinclair family, fourteenth of his line. He had chronic headaches, but his sister and brother would always tide him over with stories and games! He liked tea with scones and marmalade, he loved the sound of the rain outside his old home! He was a sibling, a son, a lover, a friend! He came here to honour his grandfather's legacy, and even as things got worse, he still took notes in his journal! What Defines him is his dedication to anything and everything - like his choice to keep going and take care of his family's heirlooms - their legacy - when everything seemed hopeless! And I'll honour that dedication - if not in word, then in deed!"

There's the sizzle of water on a everburning pyre, a flame and light that will never go out (no, not a flame and light, a light and flame as bright and hot as the sun itself) as the tidal wave - It - burns away, away, away.

Cypress's free hand undoes from a white-knuckled grip, moving to the necklace swinging around her neck - a blue sapphire and ruby that seems to glint in the Guiding Light.

"I'll honor the legacy that Philo left for me! I'll honor the legacy that my name represents! Both of our legacies - our souls - will be intertwined as only a bond can make it, and that is the greatest honor of them all!"

(Because isn't the greatest honor not only to bond with those around you, but to have friends you can rely on, even in the darkest of times?)

The hybrid holds the glass out to the rest of the circle - a toast, a bonding, a connection of friends.

[tangent="So, may our souls be bound eternal like the stars in the sky! So long as the moon chases the sun, we will always be together - friends even when the times feel hopeless! To the safety of the light, to the sun and the moon - to the truth of the matter, to the name of the Sun, Sinclair and all they may hold forevermore!"]"Que nos âmes soient liées éternellement comme les étoiles dans le ciel! Tant que la lune chassera le soleil, nous serons toujours ensemble - amis même quand les temps sont désespérés! A la sécurité de la lumière, au soleil et à la lune - à la vérité des choses, au nom du Soleil, de Sinclair et de tout ce qu'ils peuvent contenir pour toujours!"[/tangent]

She brings the glass close to her again - a liquid star for a star, a sun for a sun. A light smile flickered across her face.

[tangent="To health!"] "À la santé!"[/tangent]

And Cypress pitches back the drink as its roots drink deep.

Objectives Completed: Confess Who You Are - Define Yourself (The Sun, Upright). Confess Who You Know - Define Them (The Lovers, Upright). Drink (Temperance, Upright).

The good thing was that the strange, eldritch ‘cocktails’ he made passed the acid test.

(Look, he was no mixologist; all he did back then was drink whatever strange concoction was passed his way due to him having an insanely high tolerance for alcoholic beverages, which was funny for someone like him that looked like such a lightweight. Maybe it came with the territory.)

He would recall the Greninja back into his Pokéball for safety; giving the Greninja an apologetic look which the amphibious Pokémon took all in stride. There was a reason why he said he only needed four shot glasses; and not five.

And apparently—tonight was also going to be one for confessions. He idly wondered what would’ve happened if his original companion had dared to tough it out and stayed with them. Surely things would’ve been very interesting.

At least I know not to call on him with settings like this… he absently thought as he listened intently; from what little he could piece together about Milo, he had a rather reasonable guess as to how to handle the second half of what he would be sharing with everyone.

‘To confess who you are.’

Was it time for everyone to know what a mediocre loser he really was? Would anyone even care? He was pondering on telling a few ‘white lies’ here and there but. The way the words resonated with him; it would be such a shame if he ruined the flow.

(The only thing is, it would feel so… weird sharing that in the context of everything. But he’d make it work, somehow.)

[tangent=“I don’t know if anyone can understand this language, but. You know how hard it is, living as someone who was born on one side of the world yet has their heritage deeply rooted in another? That’s me.”]“Ég veit ekki hvort einhver skilur þetta tungumál, en. Þú veist hversu erfitt það er, að lifa sem einhver sem fæddist öðrum megin á hnettinum en hefur arfleifð sína djúpar rætur í öðrum? Það er ég.”[/tangent]

Hopefully everyone had their language settings on.

“By virtue of birth, I’m American. But if we’re going by heritage, you could say I’m a little piece of northern Europe compressed into a human-sized package.” [tangent=“Specifically, Iceland.”]“Nánar tiltekið Ísland.”[/tangent]

He would take a little bow.

“My name is Evert Steilsson. Work is such a thankless thing, and I salute those who work retail—the patience to deal with bullshit on a daily basis, that’s legendary. In a way, I also deal with service—but more on the delivery side of things. The real world didn’t prepare most everyone how to find a job, instead just setting us all loose out of university once we were old enough.”

He sighed.

“Originally, I wanted to ask if anyone was familiar with H.P. Lovecraft, because that was my course at university—looking for a job as a Literature graduate is hard these days. I didn’t want to be stuck behind the shelves of a library, so I decided to try my luck elsewhere and see where I fit. So far, though, finding a stable enough job that I can pursue with my degree is hard, which is why I work as a delivery rider. It makes the monthly rent, so there’s that—especially around the holiday season when people are feeling extra generous and all that.”

But that wasn’t the entire story of it all.

“I know being a streamer is a pipe dream, kind of like how some players choose to go online and play competitive matches on stream all day, like those e-gamers? Yeah, I want to be one of them. Someday. But having hobbies takes money, which is why we’re stuck with work.”

A mirthless laugh escaped him.

“I guess… you could define me by ‘tenacity’. Sticking around doing something, in the hopes of finding a better way to move forward. Never giving up, really. It’s also kind of why when I’m not playing this game, I’m helping out my free company on Primal, Leviathan. If anyone knows what game that is, you know.”

A knowing chuckle escaped him.

“But enough about me, I want to share what I’ve pieced together about Milo. Poor, poor Milo. Sure, he had a helper at the general store called Charlie—and even if Charlie was a bit of an ass, Milo waited. He would wait, and wait, and wait—until Charlie would come along, and help him move supplies and deliveries around. I take that Charlie was a bit of a hoodlum, the way that Milo would admonish him whenever the younger man would come in late. But in a way, that was how he sought to teach the next generation.”

He shuddered a little.

“Sometimes, it’s wise to turn to the older generation for the young ones—such as myself—to learn from them. To be taught, and then when it’s our time, we’ll be doing the teaching to the next generation who’ll come after us. Even though Milo was old, and had a really bad temper at times, you know how you gotta be patient with the stubborn ones? That’s what I appreciate about Milo.”

He would raise his own glass—in his mind it looked like a shot glass, but you did you—before saluting everyone in the circle.

“Who would dare forget those who had come before, because at the end of our own lives, we’d also be forgotten, unless there’s someone here who will remember us for what we are. Cheers to you, Milo, old man.”

And down the eldritch shot would go.

LFG Cypress Celeste Cardinal Glace

SPOILER: Click to show

{Optimal Mood Music}

Fire rages upwards, Her Light shining through every crack in the wall. The purifying flames rise high into the sky, as if combating against the mere forces of nature. Fire versus Water. The storm rages on with a furious, howling wail of the Winds, but little can stop the Ritual now that it has begun. Two Powers, eternally opposed. Forever and Always. The Empty and The Watchman. Neither Good nor Evil, both simply Are what they Are. And perhaps, the world shall never know the truest depths of what they are. Perhaps that is a good thing.

The Sun, The Soul, The Tenacity, The Hands.

And the Survivor.

Four Beings remain, One Being wise enough to find freedom then and now. Identities all still their own. But, for how long? Wickman's words provide an answer now, but perhaps they shall not suffice forever. Four are now Known, aware of the Unseen, and forever shall be. One does not simply forget the Truths witnessed this night, even should One desire to do so.

Perhaps one day, It shall find you.

Or They.

Or Him.

Or Them.

Or even Her.

But tonight, is not that night. Tonight, Four Defined Beings drink, bonded together, not just for their own existence, but for those they Know. That they shall be bonded along with their Hearts, Minds, and Bodies. For there is said to be no other way.

Drink after Drink after Drink after Drink is drank.

As the last drop is swallowed, the world begins to grow brighter and brighter. It is Blinding, Uncompromising and Cruel. And yet, is it Warm, Comforting, and Gentle all the same.

At some point, the realization begins that the glowing is not coming from the world. But inside You. A glance around the room reveals everyone's eyes are shimmering with the same intensity as the Stars within the sky. The frozen Moon in the East and the burning Sun in the West rose upwards between all. Eyes twinkling just like the will of the Stars that filled the chamber. Flames filled the entire Safe House, but nothing that was not supposed to burn was harmed. The floor erupted in a blaze beneath their very feet, dancing across skin as it rose higher up, yet no harm came to those who were Known. Music of the Heart echoes within over and over again, The Empty's Thunder can not overpower the Beauty no matter the ceaseless attempts.

Knowledge. Passion. Willpower. These words are Embraced, Welcomed, Encouraged. That we are Different, is what makes us the Same. All are Unique, as they should be.

As the Glow of the World begins to overwhelm, Darkness long but a forgotten memory, eventually all that is, is Light.

Her Light.

It as if the World no longer exists for a brief moment, and yet it is also forever. A void where Everything always has, and always will exist. Every color seen and unseen fills the endless halls.

This is nothing like The Empty at all.

This is Everything. Visions of Memories long forgotten dance at the corners of your sight. Memories of Home, of Childhood, of Family. Both Positive and Negative play out before you, just out of reach. It is as if all present are reliving all that one is, like that of a movie screen within the mind's eye.

But you did not come here Alone. You are Bonded Together. Memories suddenly dance in front of you of those who you are with. Memories of The Sun, The Soul, The Tenacity and The Hands. They all play out before you. Like a kaleidoscope of color and emotions. It is intense, it is overpowering and overwhelming. Focusing on just one proves impossible as every memory is bonded to a dozen more.

And then, even new memories come. Stories of Tragedy and Horror, Fear and Anger, Regret and Sorrow. They play out with unfamiliar faces, voices echoing, and emotions unlike your own, or their own. Visions of those who have suffered by The Empty.

The Passion, The Dedication, The Teacher, the Heart.

There are here because of you. You summoned them from The Empty.

For the briefest of moments, and yet longer than one could fathom, you are part of something greater. Something impossible. Something beautiful. A bond closer than one could ever fathom. Understanding, hearts and minds laid completely bare. Defined and Understood.

But The Watchman has no need to keep you here. Their task is done. The Watchman keeps watch. They have seen all that you are, every inch of one's being, and they are not found wanting. It feels as if words are being spoke, but none make sense. A presence forms beyond your understanding, but undeniably there. She is Here.

And then, she is gone.

And you wake up from her dream.

SPOILER: Click to show

{Optimal Mood Music}

Laying atop a burned platform within the middle of the abandoned village, daylight has already breached over the horizon. The clouds have parted, revealing the warm embrace of the sun overhead. All were within The Chamber's Light for what must have been the entire rest of the night, protected, safe, and still retaining a mind of their own.

No walls remain, not even a home to take shelter within. Just a burned platform, barely standing amidst the ruins of the old town. It was as if the place had been burned down years ago, even though it was simply just last night. And should one search the Village one shall find the old Lighthouse once suffered a similar fate.

It's a cool Summer's day, the early morning breeze refreshing and welcoming. The smell of salt and fish in the air, as if it was just another normal day.

If it were not for your memories, and the memories of others, there would be no proof of what happened any longer. All notes are gone, the eyes are long gone, the seaweed has returned to normal. The water is calm and still, the occasional fish swimming below without care. It is as if nothing ever remarkable had ever happened here.

The Sun, The Soul, The Tenacity, and The Hands. The ones who are Bonded.

And The Survivor. The one who is Free.

The world might be normal again, but you know the truth now. The mysteries hide between the boundaries of logic and reason, making themselves known when they so choose to. And eventually, it might attempt to claim you again. But this time, you'll be ready. This time, you will never be blind again.

After a few minutes, a small UI Notification pops up, informing you of a Quest Complete. All before vanishing from your Quest Journal, as if it was never there to begin with.

Just right before one could leave, a sudden splash in the distance finally draws attention, making a sound in the otherwise quiet village. Four fish floated in the water all together, the Magikarp glancing upon those who remain. Your eyes deceive you, seeing scales, whiskers, fins and gills, but your mind knows the truth.

You bonded with them too, after all.

The Passion, The Dedication, The Teacher, and The Heart.

Their minds are finally free.

cw for: heavily implied suicide

What with the way rituals went (especially in Lovecraftian writings) things were going to get really weird, really fast—at least you were mentally prepared to witness what had gone down.

But… you were not prepared for what you saw in your own mind’s eye next as the ritual was completed.

In between the flashes of angry, yapping Milo waiting for the asshat Charlie to show up and help him with work, you realized that there was something else, too.

“Hey, Ev.”

“What is it, Matt?”

“You remember everything I taught you about Magic, right?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. You’re such a whiz with that shit, even if I don’t have a deck of my own.”

“Well, about that…”

You blink in surprise as a deck box is handed to you. One that’s well-loved, worn down due to excessive use.

“What, Matt—no, I can’t take this! Isn’t this like, your prized Merfolk deck?!” you exclaim. “I know you spent a lot of money on this!”

“Nah, it’s no biggie, Ev. I want you to have this.”

“Why—I thought you loved challenging everyone to Magic! Why are you giving me this?! I can’t take it!”

“I insist you take it, man. I… I’m not going to need that where I’m headed.”

Little did you realize that the way he’d phrased that last statement was ominous, in and on itself.

The scene changes—now it’s scenes of how Milo and Charlie first met; about how the two had an initially antagonistic relationship with each other; over time, though, the two would slowly—very slowly—get along.

Wasn’t that a scene of Milo teaching Charlie how to read…? Wait, hold up, was that the reason why Charlie acted the way he did—he couldn’t read?!

The rest of the scenes of the Teacher showing the student their way flashed in between the other memories that were bubbling in between what had happened to the poor old shopkeeper.

“Why didn’t I fucking see the signs?!”

Everyone you both know in the Literature department had come out today; on this somber, blustery day. You (and everyone else) thought Matt was transferring out and headed back home, the way he was just—contacting all your friends and dropping off things with them.

You should’ve suspected something else was up, the way he suddenly gave you the Magic deck that you now keep with you in that very same deck box that came along with it.

“Evert, it wasn’t your fault. Nobody knew he was going to do what he did.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” came another comforting voice.

“We were all blindsided. We—were all fucking blindsided!” you remember saying, turning around to face your friends—

Ethan, who’d gotten the Switch along with the collection of games that accompanied it. Claire, who’d surprisingly gotten Matt’s deck of Tarot cards; you knew how much the bluenette loathed anyone else (especially you) touching that particular possession of his. Something to do with the ‘vibes’ of the thing, you remember. Jack, who’d gotten the small collection of occult books that he’d amassed from all the secondhand bookstores around the city; the ones that weren’t in English, even.

And you, you had his prized Magic: the Gathering deck that he would wield like the expert Planeswalker that he was, and even decided to teach you how to play the game because he’d gotten bored and nobody else wanted to challenge him due to him being way too good at the danged Standard format.

“I should’ve seen this. I didn’t know. I… I didn’t realize the full extent of what he was going through…”

It was no secret that within your friend circle, the two of you were the closest—was there—who the fuck were you kidding, there was something between you and Mattis Eriksen.

And you’d been so blind to miss the signs.

It felt like just seconds had passed—but to everyone assembled, it felt like an eternity.

“I should’ve known,” you hear yourself saying as Felicity—Cypress—whichever name the wolf-lady wanted to be called—helped you get up from the damp wood and you shake yourself down.

“Why was I too late to see that this was inspired by the Shadow over Innsmouth,” you added, pinching the bridge of your nose—the better to relieve the pressure building up inside your head.

The quiet splashing of water makes you turn towards where—wait, there weren’t Magikarp there before, were there?

In your mind’s eye, though, you know that the ‘oldest’ looking of the four ‘Karps was actually…

“Sup, ol’ man. I’m not going to be like Charlie, I promise.”

Maybe… maybe in his own eyes, the allegory of Charlie running away was like—

blub blub Cypress Celeste Cardinal Glace