[NLY-PP-F11] Of Snowflakes and Mistletoe

[Pinball 1]

Don't waste his time asking for something he already had. 

For all his stammering and apologies, there were no words to describe the emotion he felt when he read that pop-up. He blinked. Looked back up to Wuotan, who was already making his leave. And then he accepted the quest without a word. Upon acceptance, the pop-up blinked out of existence, taking its leave to the melancholy chime of a bell. 

Pinball avoided making eye contact with Mishiro before she'd all but walked up to him, looking up to him expectantly. Her tone of voice surprised him, and for a few seconds his mind felt like it was lagging behind him. Pinball blinked. Where were they going again? The fair? 

She walked a step ahead of him at all times. He kept a wary eye out for the guards he'd slipped by earlier, only stopping to answer her question. 

"Turn it down...? Like, the gift?" Why would he deserve something like that? Even asking the priest for something in the first place had felt greedy, if what he had requested hadn't sounded cheesy in the first place. But he had to at least try, for as long as he was still here. For as long as he was still here...

"I don't know. Not big on materialism."    

Edited March 11, 2020 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

"'Clemency,'" the girl clarified, her voice devoid of opinion. She looked back at him for a brief moment, and after a pause of consideration, she acknowledged his quiet words with a nod. 'Materialism.' A misalignment -- of giving importance to material possessions, unnecessary comforts, over one's values. Was a pardon 'asking for too much?' Did mercy lie in conflict to what he believed in? She thought she understood, if only a little. It felt strange, having to make a very specific request to a generous elder whom they had never met before -- and the offered gift on his part appeared to candidly reflect something more personal. Mishiro didn't look back at him again as she spoke, dismissively, "You made your choice."

Receiving something despite being undeserving of it and asking for it were two very different things. There were heartfelt wishes she wouldn't dare to voice; they were best kept close to herself.

But she wouldn't go down that road. It was Christmas.

"If I may ask," Mishiro began. Amid the stream of festival-goers, the pair trudged on at the middle of the street where the crowd was thinnest. Calls from NPC vendors resounded from nearby stalls where players hadn't yet queued, but her attention was only briefly caught by one: another game stall rewarding small stuffed animals with Santa hats. She kept walking. They were hardly halfway down the street. "What do you like most about this season?"

[Pinball 1]

Ah. Maybe he really wasn't getting enough sleep. His brain was slow and fuzzy. But then again, shouldn't he be used to it by now? Nothing has felt "right" since that day. He was always tired, and he was constantly weighed down by some dark, invisible, all-consuming pressure. A darkness looming over him at all times, a haunting memory and then more. It was always there. Always. When he went to sleep at night he feels it, and when he wakes up in the morning the first thing he thinks about is its presence. 

What does he like the most about this season? 

That was a good question. 

Pinball half wanted to say that it was a reminder. He'd done horrible things, surrounded by snow, and it led him to think the cold had chilled more than his skin. But that wasn't true, was it? Not entirely. No, he'd liked it before then. Before the mindless rampages, and the rage-fueled killings. So this time he could answer truthfully. 

"Where I grew up, we didn't get snow. It was more of a tropical place, so the idea of winter - a real winter - always sort of made me happy. I thought I would move somewhere with a real winter, someday." 

And he had. 

[Mishiro 0]

“And you did,” Mishiro finished for him when he fell silent. “Over in the real world… or here? Your first snow made for a good memory, I hope.” Fingers interlaced over her steaming mug, the girl glanced over her shoulder long enough to catch a glimpse of the orange player’s expression – and long enough for him to see the small reminiscent smile blossoming on her face.

“There were cities in Japan where snow falls heavier during the winter season, and I moved to one of those when I was younger.” She turned her pale gaze back to the cobbled road in front of them, briefly contemplating a scenario where she slowed her pace by just a small amount. The thought was dismissed however; she was still absorbed in her search of a familiar place she thought she had sighted earlier. “I thought, somehow, some magic was in play when I first saw it for myself. There was a substantial amount of snowflakes raining down from the sky on that day, but no matter how many I caught, I couldn’t find any two alike in pattern. I would have thought it was impossible for small crystals that would melt so easily on the hand to be so intricate.

“But before that, I liked the opposite: warmth. I think I still do.”

[Pinball 1]

"Yeah, over in the real world And it did." He confirmed her statement with a small nod, his eyes falling to her pale fingers, wrapped delicately around her mug. Here, though, his memories in the cold weren't so great. But that didn't matter. Nothing did -- when she tilted her head up towards him, a smile blooming on her face, it felt like every little stress and burdened had been alleviated, his chest fluttering, as light as a feather. 

He averted his eyes, and everything was back to the way it should be.

Her story reminded him of himself that day. But it hadn't been the snowflakes that'd drawn his attention. Snowing outside his apartment, he remembered waking up and thinking that everyone had disappeared but him. The world had been completely encapsulated in a fine white blanket, smothered, forgotten, the cars and houses remnants of a civilization that no longer was. It was eerie. It was cold. And it was beautiful. 

"Warmth," he murmured. Pinball pondered that for a moment, rolling his response out on his tongue, before pausing. 

They'd ended up at an intersection of sorts. The many stalls and stands that lined and decorated the plaza square broke off into another street, running horizontally in front of them before continuing in the straight line they'd been travelling. It was too busy to cross, though, swarmed with what felt like an inordinate amount of people walking by. It made him uncomfortable, and so he shuffled to the left, only to stop again - immediately to their left was a stall the likes of which Pinball hadn't seen, or had otherwise chosen not to pay attention to. Where others had sold hot drinks, food, and ornamental baubles, this stand's back wall was jam-packed with plushie after plushie. From pink bears to small white rabbits, they had it. Pinball's gaze dropped slightly downwards, noticing from the instructions plastered along its width that it was some sort of simplistic ring toss game. 

250 Col a toss? Isn't that expensive? 

Maybe the plushes were supposed to be special?

Pinball turned a thoughtful eye back to the stuffed toys, from the fluffy ones to the squishy ones. They didn't look all that rare, compared to the handouts Wuotan might have been throwing around to players. There was no line or wait to play, either, save for the small NPC girl staring wide-eyed up at it as her mother dragged her past them, back the way Pinball and Mishiro had came. 

[Mishiro 0]

Twinkling lights strewn all over town, gifts placed underneath plastic trees. And those repetitive Christmas carols she had thought she would never tire of.

'Warmth.'

That was the only word she could think of when she recalled those days.

Mishiro didn't share any further, internally toying with the small expectation that the person walking a step behind her would say something more. But he didn't. A silence she couldn't make heads nor tails of stretched between them, broken only when the rhythmic crunching of boots behind her came to a stop. "What is it?" The girl halted a little ways past the intersection and turned to look at him curiously. "Did something..."

It was a strange and pretty picture. The quiet player, staring thoughtfully at the rewards lining the back of an unsupervised game stand. What about it caught his eye? Instructions to a simple ring toss game were displayed on a 2D window floating above the wooden barrier, and beyond it were arrays of pegs — a few marked with colorful ribbons that signified higher and higher scores as they were placed further from the throwing line. "Do you want one?" she asked lightly. Mishiro drew closer, half-empty mug clutched close to her chest as she gazed at the rewards with obvious interest. "I promise no judgment." 

[Pinball 1]

Pinball couldn't help but crack a nervous half-smile as she drew near. "Wh- no, no," he croaked, looking away and running a hand through the sides of his hair. But she looked interested, starting intently at the plushes pinned and hung up around the back of the stand. Because of this, Pinball resisted the urge to start walking away again. Did she want to try it, maybe-? 

He stumbled over himself for a moment, and then straightened, throwing his thumb to the side towards the river of people walking down the road beside them. There really were a lot of them, and most if not all were heading in the same direction. The event was ending, it seemed, and NPCs and Players alike were filing out of the colorful plaza to get where they needed to be before everything closed up. "I just don't wanna have to wade through that, yet," he mumbled. Weakly, he added, "It looks sorta interesting though, I guess-?"

In truth, Pinball was steadily falling back into a sense of normalcy without quite realizing it. He was different around her, like his old self, flip-flopping rapidly between nervousness, anxiety, guilt, and confidence. It was strange. It was uniquely Pinball,  at least moreso than the cold and stoic dismissal he gave to anyone else that approached him. And the funniest part was that he didn't even realize he was doing it.

And it was at this point that the cheap cosmetics he'd disguised himself with started to fade, not all at once but very, very slowly. The consumables he'd used had a time limit, an unfortunate side effect of cheaping out on items, exchanging their permanence for affordability. Black streaks of hair crawled up to consume the shock white, flecks of blue emerging in the pools of dull grey. Pinball didn't notice it, and gave no indication that he would unless it was pointed out to him. He was completely focused on Mishiro and the ringtoss she seemed engrossed in, and so he took a couple steps forward, expecting her to follow suit. 

"It is a bit pricey..." 

[Mishiro 0]

She looked at him — fixated, and at a loss for words.

Then when his back was turned, Mishiro wound her free hand into her scarf and her eyes swept over the merry lines of players behind them. The occasional orange cursor wove into throngs of green, and caught up by festivities, most only spared them a passing glance. Last year's air held a little more... tension. She wondered, as her menus flashed briefly in front of her and two teleport crystals made their way into the left pocket of her coat, if Cardinal's increasing generosity was placing everyone at ease. 

Did he know?

"Let's wait it out a little."

He'd already moved forward, staring at the system prompt floating above the narrow flat wooden surface which separated them from the inside of the stall. Whatever he might have said, he'd approached the ring toss first. She eyed the rewards; vanity, and though they looked close to the standard stuffed animals, she'd never specifically seen 'standard stuffed animals with Christmas accessories' before. "Event-limited," Mishiro concluded. Then she leaned slightly forward, setting her now-empty mug down to rest her gloved hands on the surface. "Ah...! The best one's that reindeer with a scarf."

She inched closer to him so the open transaction prompt was within reach and pressed her hand, palm open, to the semi-transparent window.

"Just one toss."

As she took her eyes off the stall to speak to her snow(?)-haired companion, another window flashed on top of the one she had just interacted with — subtracting a hundred col from a total amount that was far from dropping below the six-digit mark. Mishiro looked back a moment after it vanished and accepted the red hoop which had materialized in front of her. She lined her dominant arm up for a toss, setting her sights on the highest score, then her hand snapped forward.

The ring sailed in a graceful arc.

—Over the lower-scoring pegs, then her intended target, and then much further beyond. It bounced off a poor stuffed animal's head and rolled down, disintegrating as soon as it touched the ground. The system prompt reappeared before the pair.

"....."

She gave a small huff of embarrassment and held her hand up to the window.

"One more."

[Pinball 1]

"Of course," was his immediate reply. And they remained in front of the festive stall together. 

With an amused quirk to his lips, Pinball watched as Mishiro declared the reindeer wearing a scarf as 'the best one.' To be completely honest, he was more interested in the chubby cat wearing a santa hat, but he wasn't going to be indulging in festivities any more than he had today. Mishiro pulled open her menu to pay for a round, and out of habit Pinball averted his eyes -- it was rude to look in other people's purses. The transaction was complete in an instant, though, and now the small girl held a crimson ring confidently in one hand. She pulled her arm back for the moment of truth, threw it forward, and the ring soared through the air. 

And soared. And soared. And soared, until it bounced haplessly off of one of the plushes' fuzzy faces. As it fell to the ground, it turned to dust before them, and once more the buy-in prompt appeared before them. Pinball raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his companion, just as an embarrassed huff escaped her lips. He almost offered to give it a try himself. "One more?" 

Instead, he stepped back. Pinball nodded, the slight smile returning as she geared up for the second go. "Alright. You got this." 

[Mishiro 0]

Right. She… ‘got this.’ Determination glimmered in her eyes. Mishiro had felt a little inclined to apologize for the holdup, but after she snuck a glance at the second rare smile that had brightened his expression today, the idea was gladly set aside. “You look much friendlier when you make that face,” she commented nonchalantly. As the prompt disappeared at her fingertips, replaced by another ring, the girl exhaled softly and took a step back. “I guess watching can be a little fun…?”

Were his answer an affirmative, her selfish detour would’ve meant she’d somehow accidentally done something right. It confounded her.

–Quite expectedly though, she wasn’t about to get anything right with the simplest of fair games. Despite his encouragement, the second hoop landed inches short from the scoring area.

The scoring area.

Hardly had the pair processed the outcome than the buy-in window appeared before them once more. 

Mishiro was speechless. She resisted the thought of simply trudging off without another word, instead tugging her scarf up – if only to hide the red shade of embarrassment fluttering over her pale face. “This is fine. If I keep trying.” And the stall window disappeared before he could do anything. She’d never said she would definitely win a prize earlier, but she didn’t like the thought of walking away from her own detour empty-handed. Where would all the time have gone, then? “There should come a point where I finally hit one target, right?”

Two more rings later, and her theory was effectively disproved.

Edited June 17, 2020 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

"F-face?" He hadn't actually realized he'd been making any face, but when she pointed it out, there he felt it. The remnants of a smile, maybe? Pinball clenched his teeth, rubbing his hand along his chin, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. Really though, he couldn't. How long had he been doing that for? Too long, probably, all things considered. Since when had he been so expressive? 

"Yeah," he blushed, glancing over his shoulder and hoping beyond hope she didn't feel the sudden urge to look in his direction. "A little, I guess." It wasn't the game he'd been watching.

While Pinball desperately tried to claw himself out of the pit he'd fallen into, Mishiro had already taken her next shot. A miss, again, Pinball realized with a frown. Seeing it made him sad, for some reason. It was the subtle changes in her expression that hurt the most. He adjusted himself, then nodded in agreement. "Right. Just a couple more should do it." 

Or not.

He'd figured the odds of her failing as often as she did would gradually diminish the more times she tried it. The results of that theory left a few possibilities up in the air: either Pinball was bad at math, or Mishiro was just super unlucky today. Maybe the game was rigged? Or there was something she was doing wrong -- she was barely missing her throws, but barely was still enough to keep her from her stuffed prize. 

"Mm." Indecisiveness crawled up his skin. On one hand, he wanted to offer, but on the other-? Something was making him feel like he shouldn't. Only a moment passed as that internal conflict raged, but it felt like those few beats of silence had somehow stretched themselves out for an eternity. Finally, though, he came to a conclusion. 

Screw it. Right? 

"Wanna, uh, maybe let me give it a try?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he got chills, like he'd somehow messed up and said something horrible. But surely that wasn't the case. Assuming she gave him the go-ahead, however reluctantly it may or may not have been, Pinball would move forward and buy himself a toss. If not, then Pinball would still be more than happy to hang back and watch for a bit longer. But the crowd was beginning to thin out, and he had the rising suspicion that they were probably running out of time. 

With the push of a button, his col decreased and a ring materialized itself in his hand. It was a bit on the heavy side, just enough so to make it hard to gauge how hard or how softly you had to toss the damn thing. Upon closer reflection, Pinball realized that the pins were probably set up in a way to lower the chance of a win as well. And for what, exactly-? To emulate reality? It wasn't like their digital currency had any real value to anyone but themselves, and there was no way the plushes came equipped with any sort of special perks or effects, considering how low the price of a single play was. It was a bit frustrating, and it was a little easier to understand why Mishiro had been having a tough time with it. 

Speaking of. "Try not to get your hopes up," he said warily, spinning the ring on his finger. In a way, it sort of reminded him of his old days. He'd used to play with daggers like this, toying around with it not as a weapon but as a way to show off a practiced, non-assisted dexterity using the game's physics. Of course, there were big differences. This was a ring, his old tool of choice had been a knife. As such, they were balanced differently, and you couldn't really juggle them the same because of the difference in their shape. Throwing them would require a separate technique too, without a doubt. Pinball took a breath. "Alright." 

What happened next could only be described as complete and utter dumb luck.

As soon as the item had left his hand, Pinball knew that he'd thrown the ring way too hard. And putting it that way was likely leaving it an understatement. He hurled that thing at the back wall with the average force you'd expect from a professional baseball pitch. Honestly, he was surprised it didn't completely disintigrate on impact. Instead, it ricocheted off the stall with a sharp thud, causing Pinball to visibly flinch as, rather than coming right back and cracking him square across the nose, the ring found its home spinning quickly around the neck of one of the jars in the center. 

It took him a couple of seconds to properly register what had happened. Then a voice at the back of his head reminded him. Reindeer with the scarf. A rewards screen had appeared in front of him, of which Pinball was able to pick out a single item of his choosing. "Well, um..." He scrolled through it and then tapped on the one Mishiro had initially showed interest in. A few more clicks through his invenory, and he was holding it in both hands. He offered it to her. 

"Here. Reindeer with a scarf. I hope you didn't want another one?"

[Mishiro 0]

Mishiro blinked. 

"Oh? Go ahead." 

Perhaps she'd held her claim over the window for too long. Suddenly conscious, the girl stuck her hand in her coat pocket and shuffled away from the booth to stand a few paces behind him. For a moment, she let her sights drift somewhere else. As the streams of festival-goers began to thin, so did the clouds overhead: where they'd earlier fell from the skies in abundance, only the occasional snowflake would drift down to land on her glove. This magic wasn't built to last.

She brought her palms together, watchful gaze drawn to the ring her spun absently about his finger.

Round. And around. After enough twists, an empty locket's clasp sprang free. Mishiro folded a slip between her fingers and passed Father Wuotan's gift from one hand to the other behind her back. When the ring sailed forward, she'd happily reclaimed her place beside him. 

She watched in awe as his toss failed just as spectacularly as hers.

...And then he won?

A rewards selection screen appeared for him and she thought she felt a little of her competitive side flare up at the sight. In a single attempt, he'd stolen her thunder (if one could even call it that). "So that's how it's done?" Mishiro's expression could only be described as a rare mixture of wonder and envy. Hands tucked behind her back, she inched closer as the other indecisively scrolled through the assortment of fluffy prizes he could claim. "Like the trick used in bowling alleys...! Throw it an angle so that it rolls close to the channel then curves back to the center at some point to knock out all of the pins. I thought trying to apply that here would be a little too far-fetched though."

He tapped on an option. In a small burst of blue polygons, the reindeer she had been eyeing since they first came upon the booth dropped into his hands. It took her a moment to realize he was giving it to her.

The girl's expression softened.

"You... didn't have to." Another step closer. There was an inquisitive quality to her gray eyes when she peered up at him for a moment. Reading a little further beneath surface level was not a proficiency of hers, but that didn't mean she never wanted to try. "But, thank you. I have to apologize-- for putting you through the trouble of having to win this for me. I'll make sure to treasure it." Mishiro took the plush, holding it delicately as if it were a precious object made of glass. Its scarf was made out of felt, and it was soft. Her lips quirked into a small smile as she held the stuffed reindeer close to her chest. "This is like an early Christmas present."

She did have a name for this pleasant feeling.

Warmth.

"How about we see if I can win you something, too? Perhaps the fat cat in the corner." Lifting her gaze from her newest addition to her collection, Mishiro tilted her head. She let the words linger in the air before she waved it off as a jest. There was a beautiful lightness to the air that they'd slowly built up since Father Wuotan left them to wander about the fair themselves -- but she could never tell if it was just her. Taking note of the others in their vicinity, she stepped back. "We've spent enough time here, I believe. Shall we move on?"

Edited July 1, 2020 by Mishiro

[Pinball 1]

"Uh. Yeah. That's how it's done." 

Totally intentional.

"Just like in a bowling alley," he echoed, as if he knew exactly what trick she was referencing. Of course, the truth was likely still written all over his face. Again. Totally intentional. Totally. "Uh, but really. It was no problem." Because seeing her clutch that plush close to her chest, a sweetness that had long escaped him - that was reward enough, as embarrassing as it was to admit it. It was hard to look at her. Like staring into the sun, he'd found over the course of their time spent together that he couldn't maintain eye contact for longer than a few seconds at a time. Why was that? Because he felt like he didn't deserve to, still? Or something else? 

"The fat cat-?" Despite himself, he couldn't help but look and see. There was one, sitting in the corner admidst the other prizes, and for a brief moment Pinball considered playing just one more game while he had the chance. But that brief moment was all the time needed for him to shake away the silly desire. He didn't need it. No, he didn't want it, even if Mishiro's suggestion had been a joke in the first place. And maybe if he kept telling himself that, kept disregarding the fleeting images that passed through his mind when she smiled at him, when he took her hand in his, maybe if he stopped dwelling on the "but what if's" and stopped wondering what would have happened if he'd done things differently -- maybe then he'd start to believe it, too. 

He nodded. "Yeah. I think things are starting to close up now, anyway. We should go."

[Mishiro 0]

He'd keep her admiration for another day. The girl was, for a few moments longer than might have been appropriate, a little too preoccupied with fussing over her extra soft and cuddly prize to clue in on his wobbly confidence. But it was his casual remark in the end that grounded her. No wonder the crowds were moving about quicker than before: they were all preparing to leave. Her gaze lifted to the sky. 

And it was her own words that sent cracks rippling through the fragile veneer of the present moment.

"The sun's setting." 

Mishiro tried to hold it all together anyway.

"Perhaps it's better for you with less people around?" The girl casually tucked a hand into her coat pocket. A silence had settled over her earlier excitement, the object of it now kept safe and well out of sight in her inventory. "An orange cursor," she paused, mulled over her next words, then settled on the truth, "does seem to attract disdain. It's not at all difficult to detect when it's so obvious. But if you were to ask me, I think it's foolish to pass those judgments without knowing anything at all. Let's walk."

This time, she was two steps ahead of him. She couldn't resist turning her head up to gaze at the lovely colorful hues seeping into the sky. Sunsets were always beautiful in Aincrad, no matter where she watched them from. 

"Are you still there?" She dropped her gaze, fingers clasped together behind her back. "I don't know you at all, but you don't feel like a stranger to me."

Mishiro didn't look over her shoulder. She turned a corner and kept walking.

"Isn't that a little strange?"

If he knew Taft as well as her, he'd know the narrow street led straight to a dead end.

[Pinball 1]

He tilted his head to the sky, and he knew that no amount of hopeful wishing could ever stop time... much less reverse it. 

Because the sun was setting, and soon the day would be over. 

"Yeah. It is, isn't it?" 

Her words grounded him. Brought him back to reality. Suddenly and abruptly he was again aware of his past floating above his head for the world to see, and he flinched inwardly, his eyes glancing around the courtyard with a ravenous hunger. Luckily for him, though, security was much easier to slip past on the lower floors; and it was honestly nothing short of a miracle. There was no way he would have had enough time to be with her properly otherwise. 

Mishiro went on to say some things that Pinball wanted to disagree with but couldn't. Yes, it was obvious, and yes it did tend to attract disdain - but wasn't that how it should be? Somehow, hearing the opposite from her made him doubt everything he'd tried to stand for, and so he was silent, at least for the moment. Softly, he barely managed to reply as she led him down the road. "Alright. Um... thank you." 

It was as though he were entranced. Pinball walked behind her, but he couldn't stop his heart from fluttering in his chest every time she moved her head even the slightest bit. He'd follow her gaze and look above the rooftops, through the pale and gray clouds, and see the color hidden underneath. Hadn't there been a time where he'd loved watching the sunset over Aincrad? 

Hadn't he watched them with someone? But Mishiro's level cadence once again pierced through his murky thoughts. "Y-yeah, I'm still here. Sorry." 

And his blood ran cold. Mishiro turned the corner, but Pinball felt himself slow down. It was certainly a rude awakening, to have such a warm feeling turning to ice, and so quickly. He probably wouldn't have been able to name the look on his face had a mirror been put in front of it. His fingers felt tense as he clenched and released. Why was he shaking?

There was no way she knew. Right? 

"That is strange," he murmured. He cleared his throat, but the trembling could still be felt under his voice, and there was nothing he could do to get rid of it.

"I... haven't been myself recently. It's why I've been acting so weird lately-? And I'm sorry for that. I--" 

-- But try as he might, he just couldn't find the words. 

[Mishiro 0]

"I'll put it this way."

Mishiro laced her fingers together behind her back, the windowless facades that rose on either side of her cold and bleak and stately in their feel as the light ebbed from the skies above. There was a saying that the walls had ears. She had gone as far as her limited ability could allow to ensure that no one had been looking their way, but she didn't have her brother's eye for the shadows. Was this feeling reserved for only these hidden places or did it follow players like him unto broad daylight?

"I've thought about it a little -- how things like these aren't so uncommon. Whether it's so necessary to unearth every truth of the matter. I'm sure you'll have questions for me too, if you didn't have them already, and..." she tilted her head up slightly, as though she were about to peer over her shoulder then thought better of it, and the clasp of her fingers tightened, "I think I wouldn't be able to answer most of them. In that same sense, you also have your reasons. So, it's alright. Everything as it is now -- it's fine. One can have a little faith that that knowledge isn't enough to destroy the sanctity of the present moment."

She'd never voiced that sentiment before, but she wouldn't have let those words leave her lips if she hadn't believed in them herself.

--So why was it that they suddenly didn't feel enough?

She stopped walking then, when it became obvious to the player following her that the corridor only led straight to a dead end. Shadows draped over the snow-white frame of the girl who finally turned to meet Pinball's lapis blue gaze. The vanity effect must have completely worn off at some point; she couldn't tear her eyes from his face, the clear emotion that met the perfect blank canvas of her expression in turn, and when she finally did, it was to turn her head toward their reflections on the glass of a curtained shop front.

"I won't ask for an explanation."

There was no quieting the traitorous beating of her heart as she closed the distance between them and took one of his hands in both of hers. "And you're still on a wanted list somewhere, so I won't tell anyone about this either. I... won't tell anyone." Mishiro squeezed Pinball's hand; as much as the gesture fulfilled its purpose, it also quelled most of her urges to run past him and disappear into the thinning crowds. If she just left everything about them behind now, she wouldn't need to face the truth that she was turning into a stranger in her own mind. "You know, I was there last year," she said softly. "We were keeping an eye out for you. If we did find you, we would have gone off the assumption that you didn't know how bad the entire situation was and convinced you to leave quietly somehow. But in the end, I wasn't even there to see what happened."

Mishiro slid a small white box out of her coat pocket and placed it on the square of his palm. "I may have mischaracterized you. I thought you were at least a little materialistic, but I'd already placed the order." She lifted her gaze, then dropped it back down, a small white cloud of breath escaping her as she curled his fingers inward to close around the parcel. "Part of what I liked so much about Christmas was the presents. Maybe people only do it as an established custom, but it's a nice feeling to receive something someone else put at least a little thought into. So forgive me if this sounds presumptuous, but--"

The corners of her lips lifted into a small, sincere smile as she released his hand and stepped back.

"I hope this would mend your memory of the season, even if it's just a little."

[Pinball 1]

It was a deadend in more ways than one. 

His reflection in the glass. Her face looking back at him. There was a silence so deafening he couldn't think straight. A cacophony of nothingness. Here, now, there was no running, and there was no hiding. There were no delusional excuses, thinly veiled emotions kept carefully under wraps, and even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to look away. It all came crashing down at once, a crescendo of emotion, furious waves crashing down and boring holes through the icy walls he'd built out of fear. Out of guilt. Out of desperation and madness. 

Why wasn't she angry? Why wasn't she calling out for the guards? Why wasn't she disturbed that he'd approached her in disguise? Why, why, why? 

Why? It was the only word - the only question - that came to mind. 

Why was he lying to himself? Why couldn't he face himself? Why wasn't he running? Why had he ever ran to begin with? 

Her fingers closed around his and they pulled him away from a state of mind that was more than disturbing. It was nice, and it was warm, and it was undeserved. Was she telling the truth? She would never lie to him, right? He didn't care. He'd told her he hadn't cared. He didn't. He didn't want to. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to die alone, unforgiven, alone, and he wanted everyone left behind that he'd gone out like the coward he was. There was no redemption for scum. 

But ever since then. Since her. 

And as she pulled away from him, his hand remembered her touch. In his palm, he clutched a neatly wrapped parcel. Her smile... 

That was when he began to tremble. It was uncontrollable. He willed himself to stop shaking, to hold back what felt like a tidal wave of pressure building up in his throat and skull, his face turning red around the eyes. "Oh," was the only sound he could manage, and it was choked. If he hadn't-? Would he--? 

"Thank you." 

Pinball pocketed the item but kept his grip there, refusing to let go of that precious thing. He forced a smile and tried to look her in the eyes but he knew if he did, even for a second, he wouldn't be able to help what happened afterwards. And he was still shaking. He'd never stopped. With his freehand he adjusted himself, but his lips quivered in a way that was more than recognizable to anyone. It was deceptively easy to shatter ice. There were always weak spots, and for him, Mishiro was one of them. She could very well have been the only one, too, but when it happened, he'd broken down completely. He wanted to reach out for her, but he didn't want to risk scaring her off. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he would never do it again, that he hadn't meant the things he said. He wanted to go back to the way things used to be. He wanted to feel comfortable. He wanted to be happy. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted to make things right.

He wanted to make things right?

That thought alone made it feel as though his head had been cleaved in two. 

"I don't know what to say?" His voice came out much more unsteady then he'd wanted it to, and much more than it had been previously. Nevertheless, he continued, repeating the only thing that came to mind that felt sincere, from the very bottom of his very being. She deserved no less. 

"Thank you." 

[Mishiro 0]

Her eyes followed the parcel as Pinball tucked it into his pocket. The hand he held it with was trembling — terribly, Mishiro realized, as though a particularly cold draft had swept into the alley at that very moment, but she didn't feel the December chill was any different than it was before, and besides, any slight drop in temperature wouldn't have bothered him so; he came back to her wielding a weapon forged from ice like it was nothing, and as she often dwelled on his growing finesse, she just as often had to face her own foul envy.

"Then, we should leave separately." An uncertain smile flickered over her face; if he hadn't been looking then, he'd have easily missed it. She didn't understand such complexities. "I'll go back the way we came. And... I don't think an orange player should stay here any longer."

If it were up to her—

It would be impolite, to ask Pinball to open the gift right then and there so she could tell him all about how the trinket was meant to be opened and that the empty space between the glass was for the owner to drop in little charms of selection and how she had something similar back home, and throughout all four years of owning it, it held nothing more than a dulled orange glowstone carved to resemble an oak tree. Gifts were traditionally meant to be opened on the twenty-fifth, and maybe the possibility where she thoughtlessly talked his ear off about her jewelry anyway lied only in the past. Mishiro tucked her hands behind her back, trying to think of something else to end with. She spoke the first thing that came to mind.

"Thanks. For staying." 

And she was pushing gently past him on her way to the narrow street's exit, saying the rest over her shoulder.

"I liked your company."

[Pinball 1]

"I liked your company."

"I... liked yours." 

And she was gone. 

Like snow melting in the summer. Fireworks in the night sky. A shooting star. You blinked and you'd miss it. 

Fleeting. Sand was falling between his fingers. The sensation of warmth leaving him and the cold creeping back up his arms as he watched as she went, as she turned the corner, as he thought about what words to say but couldn't bring himself to until she was gone and well out of sight and he was standing by himself at the end of an alleyway clutching a present he knew in his heart he didn't deserve but so desperately wanted to cling to. 

He stood there for longer than he cared to admit. But after he'd mustered what little strength he had left, Pinball stood up, pocketing the present to look at later, and dabbed the corners of his eyes. "I liked it a lot," he said to himself, a long sigh shaking his thin and gangly form. The ill thought out disguise left him cold, especially now with nothing there to keep his mind off of it. 

"A lot more than I should have. Agh." He swallowed. "You make me so weak." 

But was it weird to enjoy that sense of vulnerability? To long for it? He'd been acting so weird in front of her -- and why? Pinball grimaced. He knew exactly why, but he didn't even want to begin to think about it. Not now. Not yet. But soon? 

"I've gotta get out of here first." The gloomy young man lingered for just a moment longer before he too exited the alley, a different way than Mishiro herself had. He took to the rooftops, a shady blur leaping from edge to edge, racing towards the city's borders. Faster and faster he went, until the cold numbed his face and he couldn't think about anything else. Not about Mishiro, or her smile, or the words they'd shared and the countless things he wanted to tell her and apologize for and share with her. His grip, however, remained firmly affixed over the small parcel nestled within his pocket. 

Gently above the quiet city and the lives of those within it, the last snow of the Holidays fell.

Edited April 8, 2021 by Pinball

[Mishiro 0]

::: ::: :::

It was still snowing in [Delilah].

White dusted the outside of her windowsill, and the black cat that haunted the corridor outside her room pawed at the door until she let it in. She lowered a lamp to the floor beside her desk and stroked its head with the back of her hand as it curled up next to the warmth and stretched its mouth open in a soundless yawn.

"Staying here again?"

The feline's eyes blinked up at her, twin circular flames, one after the other, then it bowed its head, tiny pink nose tucked snugly beneath its tails.

She returned to her sketchbook. Fingers skimming through the binder's pages, she caught glimpses of her own compositions and the oft faceless people she drew within them as passersby to her carefully rendered scenery, the distance between the dates of each entry growing further as she went from one to the next. She didn’t owe it to a lack of leisure time. Five years bereft of a typical player's burdens, too many more awaiting her; she had a silver spoon in her mouth and she thought of biting down on it until blood dripped past her lips, yet she also thought she had gradually turned indifferent.

She found the last entry, began months after its previous.

'DEC 25, 20  ' had nothing but a few faint lines to its name, a portrait of her own scattered thoughts as she rested beneath the branches of that mistletoe. She didn't remember any of them. Discarded drafts had no place in her binder, and as easy as it was to erase the penciled outlines, she had written the date in ink. But once the girl lifted the page, ready to tear it off from the rest with a slight tug, she paused -- a picture stubbornly forming before half-shut eyes.

Cold day. Snowflakes falling onto a quiet street.

Him.

Their aimless stroll had taken them to almost every corner of the winter fair, hadn't it? She'd had her gaze sharpened, a couple paces between them as she walked ahead (close enough to reach him if they had any trouble), and she respectfully withheld any questions when he disappeared at one turn only to reappear at her side the next. She couldn't turn her thoughts back to the time between noon and sunset of December 25, 20   without seeing him in her periphery -- and when she had him in the corner of her eye, months after watching him turn his back and walk away from her, she found that she was still chasing him despite standing perfectly still.

The page fluttered back into place. Candles at her desk blown out. She pulled a glowstone out of her inventory and settled it on a ledge above her.

He had been so close, and she had greedily committed too much of it to memory.

 

Late into the evening, Mishiro began to draw.

The light from the crystal flickered, the warmth from the lamp at her feet disappeared, the black cat hopped onto her desk and rubbed its head against the back of her hand and gave a soft questioning 'mew?' of concern when she picked it up and set it down on her bed where it made a small nest among her pillows but refused to sleep; the cat kept silent vigil throughout the night, until the light from the crystal burned out an hour before the crack of dawn, and it pawed at the door until she let it out, and she returned to her desk and found another glowstone to light.

Morning came, and she gently closed her sketchbook. Mishiro rubbed her eyes and rose from her seat, almost expecting to feel a dull ache in her limbs from staying in one position for so long. Yesternight's lack of sleep shouldn't interfere with her work for today -- turning down vanity craft requests made for the purpose of celebrating the holidays meant her commissions winded down around the days between Christmas and New Year's Eve. Still, she had her own little list of things to do in her free time, and she didn't like lazing about in her room. She tidied up her bed, dropped the dulled glowstone into her hoodie's pocket, and made for the door, pausing briefly midway, a hand rested on the knob.

Torn shreds of chalk white paper, vanishing one by one into the sunlight.

---

thread summary

Spoiler

@Mishiro

• 436 EXP
       | [thread progression:] 7278 words, T1. [doc]
• 800 Col
       | [thread progression:] 400 * 2 = 800

@Pinball

• 5761 EXP
       | [thread progression:] 7341 words, T4. [doc]
       | [event:] 5 SP = 5 * (200 * 4) =  4000
                        
• Misericordiae
  TRINKET, Vanity
  [ref] "A beautiful round locket finely crafted from sterling silver. Within its crystal glass face are small, colorful charms shaped from precious metals."