🏝️ dulces sueños group excursion! 🏝️

[hearthwarming]

🏝️ who: intrepid adventurers (vacationers?) and more!
🏝️ what: ori organized (origanized?) a group trip to the resort! mass memshare ensues.
🏝️ when: fall 9-10
🏝️ where: dulces sueños resort
🏝️ warnings: threads will be marked as needed for memshares.

[ Hopefully everyone had fun on the Arco Lunar! The morning after the boat departs from the docks, a letter arrives to your mailbox: ]

Hello, intrepid adventurer!

I am excited to have you along for a group excursion to the mysterious new island! In two days' time, let us gather in the town square and set off from there! Please be prepared to stay the night. It will be so fulfilling and memorable for everyone to spend a night on an adventure together!

If you have any questions or concerns, please come find me at my flower shop in town or at the forest farm where I live!

Sincerely,
Oriphi

[ If she accidentally delivered it to a few wrong mailboxes, then... Oops!

On the promised day, once everyone (and likely a few surprise tag-alongs) has gathered or been gathered, Ori distributes little paper bags of snacks to everyone. Inside are cookies, oat snacks, and a freshly-picked apple from her and M-21's orchard. Do with them as you please... Just don't let her catch you throwing it into the sea or something. 🥺 ]

Alright. I think we should head out, then! Thanks for coming along, everyone! I hope it'll be a great time. Oh, and please don't forget to drink plenty of water and use this incredible ointment I discovered on this island! It's called "sunscreen!" Tieflings don't really get sunburnt, but you should use it!

[ And with that our intrepid adventurers set off to the mysterious, dangerous, unknowable... resort island! ]

( This is the ill-fated mass extinction memshare event. Please refer to the event for details on the resort and the plotting post for any specific details for characters' memshares! There are toplevels for each area of the resort (and for the memshare). Enjoy! )

Comments

[hearthwarming]

[ It's not the same, she knows, as the long life she's bound to live. Though she knows her aging is starting to slow, she also knows... She has agency. She knows that she's not going to be locked away in one room for hundreds of years. She knows that, if she can help it, she can keep doing what she's doing.

(She won't be. But she doesn't know that yet.)

Ori also knows that the answer to his question doesn't come easily to her. When one lives for a long time as Otegine has... Can you truly forget? You'll always be the one that remembers. The one who remains when the others that remember have passed on. But then... who remembers the one that remembers? What happens if she outlives all of her friends, even the ones who will live long lives, themselves? What happens then?

What becomes of them?

Her fingers tighten around his. ]

I think... I'll remember. I'm the kind of person who always looks back on the past... But of course, the past for me means things that happened a few years ago, not...

[ She trails off. Not hundreds of years ago. At least, not yet. Maybe not even ever. Her natural lifespan may be prolonging itself, but it's still entirely possible that the light of her life will be snuffed out by unfortunate circumstances anyway. That doesn't escape her. She wonders if it's the same for Otegine. ]

So... Being forgotten, that worries me more. Is... Is that selfish of me...?

[passthrough]

[A moment of silence passes.

Carefully, he takes her hand in both of his. There is no true warmth, not like a physical body. But the presence lingers regardless.]

If it's selfish for you, then it's selfish for me, too.

[1t's 1939. There is talk of another war brewing. You can hear the far off sounds of aircraft.]

Being remembered means you really meant something, right? That your existence was cherished. And to not have that... is frightening.

[It's 1942. You hear thundering noises from time to time, far off rumbling. The papers talk of b̸̜̄̏̓̓͠ỡ̴̧͉̹̙̪̫͍̼̺̳̊͒̄͋̿ͅm̷͍̯̅́̇͋̂́̇͝͝ḃ̸̧̰̱̫̫̜͐̍̋̏͌̇̌̕͜ỉ̵̛̮̥̫̺̰̀̉̉͆̀̀̏̌̉̍̀̚͝͝ͅn̸̦̭̆̿͂̚g̷̡̜̙͈͓̰̥͕̪̖̤͒̽͆̓̀̈́̚s̵̢̧̤̳̱͍̪̗̲̠̤̩͑̉̃̓͑͐̇̾̓̏̅͐͋̿͐͠͝]

But you're a memorable heart, Ori. You really are. You're kind and honest and generous, and you're doing so much for the people around you without asking for anything in return. There's not much a spear like me can do for you... but I know someone like you will be remembered dearly. Just like I remember Hideyasu-sama.

Please believe in yourself that much... for your own sake.

Okay?

[hearthwarming]

[ Despite the tenderness of the moment, an unsettling feeling sits in the pit of her stomach. War. They have been in and out of war, by now, but... It feels different, this time. Though she's seen her fair share of conflicts and combat, she has never been rightly embroiled in an all-out war.

That feeling makes what Otegine says feel all the more somber. She cannot escape the feeling that it feels like a goodbye, just like when Sian...

"Do me a favor, Ori. Just... keep being you, even after I'm gone, okay? If you can make your way into the heart of just one more person who was so alone just like me... That would be enough." ]

That's not true, Otegine. I'll remember you. Even though we come from different worlds... There's always going to be somewhere out there in the universe that remembers you. So, please...

[ Just like with Sian, she can't bring herself to say it. Don't go. ]

1/???

[passthrough]

[His smile is quiet, but something in his eyes breaks at the sentiment, forcing him to look down for a moment to regain his composure.]

Don't worry about me, Ori. We're still here.

[1943.]

[His lips thin, and with both her hands in his, he folds himself down to his knees, bowing respectfully to her. His hair drapes like a river. The furs on his shoulders are starting to tinge with age.]

Just let us enjoy the time. However long we have. I want to enjoy it... now that I know how. Even if it's scary to think of the past, or the future.

[1944.]

[The smell of the charcoal around you is comforting. Comforting. Comforting. It's protection. They're removing more items. They never remove you.

Otegine squeezes her hands tight...]

It'll be okay. You'll be okay.

[...and abruptly lets go.]

2/

[passthrough]

[1945.]

3/?

[passthrough]

[M̸̠̹͂̌a̶̯͂y̴̜̬͙̠̼̗̋̈́͊̍̕ ̴͍̙̂̓̓2̷̪̞̖̗̃̀͂̇ͅ5̴̺͐t̵̜͙̱͝ĥ̸͉̒̈,̶̮̜͇̠̋̓̈́͊̿͒̚ ̴̫͖͓̝̲̰̒͛̓1̷̹͍́̂̈̂̄̑̕0̵͇̋͊p̶̨̥͋͑̿̚m̵͖̠̠̞̮͊͋͊̽̋͘͝,̵̬̞͍̘̄̓̍͠ ̷̡̲̦͌ͅO̶̯̝̜͚͖̽̾̌͜͜k̸̳̼̤̍û̸̟̄͊̋b̵͙͒o̴͎̼̯̟̻̅̓̉́̇,̷̢̨̦͍͕̦͖͐̾ ̵̟͚̟̻̫̜̫̓̿͒͌Ţ̷̝̲͋̋ȍ̵̱͍̳͚͛͋͂ḱ̷̪̱̻̠̗̺̼̉̈y̷̳̋̂̒͝õ̶̝̹̇͋͘̚,̷͙̤́͑̅́͗͘ͅ ̵̨̮͙̆͒͠͠ͅJ̶͎̬̘̼̖̮̃͑̊á̴̙̄̄͛͊͘͠ṕ̵͎̰̩́͝ă̶̡̠̖͓̤͚̻ǹ̴̲͎͔̍̒͊́̚͝.̶̤̘̲́ ̵̪̘̘͚͕̖̿̏͒́̀̚͝F̷͔̣̱̜̈̈̏͂͝͝o̸̗̗̔̈́͋͗̽̾r̷̨̧̗̙͍̽͒̒͐ê̶̦̦̔͘i̴̲͎̦̪̟͛͆͛͗̀̌ğ̸̨̞̠̭̒̈́̓̉̕ǹ̴̨̧̺̭̮̥̃́̎̒͠ ̸̱̫̰͖̗̮̆ͅa̷͓͓͕̪̫̔̑̈́ḯ̴̥̖̍̓̒͐̋́r̵̡͕͙̱̙͙̓̀̂ ̷̮̋r̵̯͇̦͓̈́̃̎͝a̸̡̭̳̖̐́̾̈́͛ĩ̷̱͔͇̻͔̝̣̑̍͝ḑ̴͖͎͉̥͔́̈͒͝ś̶̢͙̜͔͍̼̈́ ̸̙̦̮͗̒p̸̞̯̂̊̐ä̴̧̲͓̘́͒̏̂̎̾̉s̵̨̠̯̲̣̈́͗s̵̰̘͋͊̑͂ ̵̭͈̺͊̐̑̏ȍ̴͓̩̜̔̒v̴̳̤̈́̀̽̚͠è̵̡͍̦̭͖͒̀̑̓͘͘r̸̎̊̑͂ͅ ̸͉̹̤͉̳̊̾̈́͛͂ť̵̤͐̀h̶̰͍̞̼̣̙̏͌̄̄̉e̴̤̺̊̏̒̅͝ ̷͖̋̑͂̓̂n̴̢̤̥̦͙̉̂̊̕͝i̶̻̓͜͜g̸̜̉̄̂͠͝h̷͍̙̻̹̥̿ͅt̸̥͙̞̟̰̫̄́̏̏̿̕ ̵͚̬̐̑a̷̳͕̓̍͆̈́̽̿n̴͕͈̯̠̪̐̀̈́̈̍̑d̷̬͓̩̲̳̽̀̐͌͑͝ͅ ̴̖̮̏͛̌͊͋̈b̶̢̙̭̼̯̭̜͊ǫ̸͎̥̯̱̈́͂͗̃͛m̸̺̒b̸̝̖̹͓͍͠ ̶̞͙͍͍͚̑̂̄̀̀̊t̸̳̳̟͒́̀̈́͘h̴͇͖̖̉͊̒̇͛̉͝e̵̛̥̟̝͚̖̠̅͊̀̎̕͝ ̸̛̟̝̲̉͑̂͗̎ċ̷͔̰̣̗ͅí̸̛̱͖̘̦͉̰̬̇̂̽͂̈́t̷̢̛͍̥͍͚͓̍̋̎́͘͝ý̴̪̫̣̫̅̑͒̑.̵̖̥͍̮̈́͝ͅ ̵̢̧̟͓͕̮̠̾Ṭ̵̥̗͌͗͑̀͒͌h̷̙̊̾̊̕͝ę̷͈͇̜̭̄͗̈́͗͒̇͘͜ͅ ̷͕̲̗͖͓̥͑̊̉̍̈́͝M̶̱̬̽́͆́͠ą̸̨̦̮̼̮̤́͊ţ̸͔̻̦̔s̴̳̺̤̮̰̮̾͐̆u̵͉̐̈ḑ̶̤̰̄́a̶̛̬͎̺̔́͛̾̿͘i̸̭͒̓͋r̴̬͎̭̪̣͎͗͗͌̐a̸̹̯̳͖̭̓̍̑̏́̑͘͜ ̴̢͙̹̗͒͐̽č̴̢̦̫à̷̹̜̊̓̉̾͊͝ś̶̢̛̥̟̹̖͙͗͂͐ť̷͇̝͍̦͎́͐l̶͉͚͍̙̘̕ẽ̶͔̙̗̱͚̒̏ ̸̙̟̝̣͖͇̋̏̇͌͌̚ͅá̵̟̱̼̳͖̓́̚ͅͅń̸͉͉̯͍͇̘̗ḏ̵͐̌̂̊̈́͝ ̵̫̤̿̔͝i̸̮̮̘̥̔̽͌t̷̢̯͌̅̕s̸̬̬͖͓̮̒̀̓̅̾̕ͅ ̵̥͈̙̜̅̒̈̄̍̌͘͜ͅǵ̸̛̯̜͉̩̺̆͝r̷̢̨͖͈̯̝̃̀̃̉̎̀̚ő̸̦̲͕͉̒́̚u̵͕͓̗̪̞͇͕͑ņ̷͉͎̤͇͌̒̅̂̏̓̓ḋ̶̪̥̩̝̝ͅṣ̵͍̈́̂̆̈́̈̀̚ ̸̼̝̱̩̗̉̈́̔ä̷̹̹͉͎́̈́̏̔͛̽r̶̛͕̼͈͍͆̆̄̇͜ẻ̵̢̨͍͇̹ ̵͓͚̪͕̪̑h̵̟̺͉͋͆̓̎i̶̳͍̜̣̻̬̦̓t̵̫̱̹̹̿̎̐̊̚̕̚ ̴͇̥̰͉̪̜͘a̶̢̛͓̰̤͇͎̯̍͒̾n̵̢̖͕̖̠̊̃͗͒͂̈ḑ̴͔͚̐̉͘ͅ ̵̣̦͔̮̟͎̟͐̀̈́̓̓͐h̶̦̭̜̠̻͑͊͋̽̈́e̵͚͕̓̉̄̂́̈́͑à̷͔͈̹̭̫̘̄̄̃̏̓v̴̡͈̜͖̒̂͆̿ǐ̵̢̬̠̚̚l̵͕̊̏͊̿͛́͝y̴̻̹̬͆͒̏̓̈́͒ ̸̡̧̗̲̳̈̒̈̿̑͌d̴̡̠̯͍̓̑̿̓̑͋͝ͅa̷͙̱̞̓͆̔͋͝͝m̶̲͎͉̞̀̾ͅa̶̧̠̗̻͈̱̽̒͆̔̇ǵ̵͇̳̽͝ȩ̷̞̻̀̆̚̚d̷̹̗̟͖̣͐͐͑̅̌͛.̸̜̮͍͎͕̑͑ ̸͙̲͙͐͊̈́̏͜͠Ẃ̵̢̡̛̦͈̭͇̯͒̈́͝î̶͘ͅt̴͙͕̠̖̎̄̍̀̋ḣ̵̤̪͖̫͈̋̄̄̚ ̴̢̟̲̃c̷͔̼̍̌͗̓̐̅͜͝ͅͅh̵̲̖͕̻͙͎̓̕a̷̻̼̻̦͊̀͑̀͋r̴̲̞̟̙͔͛͜c̶̢̧̗̰̲̰͑͊ṍ̵̧̢̳̥̬̼͆͗̓͝ͅḁ̸̺̂́̅͜l̴̳͔͉̟̈́͜͝͠ͅͅ ̴̛̜̤̌̈͘͘ͅͅǎ̷̤͎͇̤̝͜s̶̢̮̬̱̺̊̽̉͒̌͐̀ͅ ̷̨̭̭̙̝̙̽́́͛̽́̓ḯ̴̖̘̰̳̊ṅ̵̞̦͎̝̮̱̪̏̿́͠͝s̸̡͉̞̜̝̓͝ṵ̷̡̜͇̪̯̼͐l̴̡̯̞̜͉͇͖̑̿̑a̸̬̹̎̈́̽͑̈͛̓ţ̵̘̫̲̩̹̹̎͌̄̒̆ĭ̶̧͙͈͉ơ̴̭͉̩̥̮̎͛̈́̚ͅn̷̫̭̲̞͓̿̑̀ͅ,̸̧̧̻̪̹̺͇̋̑̓̈͗́̕ ̴͔̥̮̺̥̘̀̑̅̉͒t̸̛̤̩h̶͙̀̋̂̚e̵̘̼̜͉̽̄͑̌ ̵̧̥̠̻̀͐̊̈́̉͋̚͜s̷̢͇̓̔͘ṯ̴͎̯͙̽̈́́͝ǫ̸̺͉̀̓͝ȓ̶̗̩͕̌̎́͝͝e̴̢̢̮̤͍͇̍̾̽͜h̵͍̖͓̮̮͎͒̽͂́̽͝ȏ̸̻͙̖ͅŭ̸̗̦̀̚s̶͓̳̤͇̣͎͝ḛ̸̲̩̖̅̂̄̏s̸̟͕̝͗͌̈́̈́ ̴̢̱̣͓̀͂̇̽h̶̭͙̮͎̺̔̿o̷̹̘͕͈̓̽̈̐ͅu̶͈͑s̷͍͈̗̰̲̊̈͛̓͜ͅe̴͎͕͚̐͊̅͒̈́͜s̶̢͚̘͙͉̾̈́̎̚ ̶̣̳̗̈́͌q̶̢̹̇̆͋u̵͍̪͙͆í̷̖̦͍͕̭̙̅̿̈́͝c̵̥͍̝̹̮̊͒̇̈ͅͅǩ̶̮̦̌̃̍͑̕l̵͇͇͉̿͊̎́̚ỷ̶͎͇͛͒̍̌͊͘ ̷̢̩̞͑̂t̵͓̾̾͂̄͝ü̵̡̯͖̤̪̒̐͆͝r̷͙͖̦̙͇̮͓̿̑͌ṉ̴̩͂̕e̵͍̼̙̙̮̱̟̍́d̴͕̎̔̿̕ ̶͉̦͊̚t̴̪̱̦̓̂̊͛͑͗͝ó̴͎͙̰̄̒͝͝ ̴̮̣̺͍̘̍͛ö̷̺͓͚́̈́̎͂͝v̶̡͇͇̬̼̈́̋̓͐̔ę̶͈͈̦̈́n̸̼̖̫͎͒̊́̑͘ṡ̸̟͎̳̣̊̄̃͛̚͜ ̵̢̻̈́̌̄͐̈͆t̵͎̋̔͋̆̿ơ̷̳͓̹͔̟̥͜ ̷̢̛͓̺̯̯͐̆͆͝͝͝f̵̥̤̠͗u̵̧͇̚e̶̡̘͇̩̟͆͜l̴̥̳̖̎̈́ͅ ̶̨̲͚̱́̔̂̔ẗ̸͔̔h̷̞͎̣̼͔͗́̊̄̎̇e̴͈͕̖̦̊̒̒̄̄ ̷̳̽͆̆̊͜l̷̙̰̦̗͎͔̐̓̏̂͋͌į̷͎͕͎͇̠̈̆̈́̚n̶̡̫̟̪̭͐̈́̔̈͂̕͜g̷̠̒̑̿͛ę̶̧͓̜̗̜̂͋́̿̿̚r̶̲͓̺̯͉͌̓͌ȋ̶̠̱n̶̨̪̫̟͓͌g̸̠̘͇̐̊̋́̉̓͝ ̸̭̦́͝f̴̪̙̱̟͂̃͒͠į̴̢̛̛͙̝̞̓͒̈́̊͊r̵͍̟̳͚̈́̍͑̄̈́̎ė̴̥̦s̸̢̢̛̞̮̙̿̓̅̂͌,̵̢̡̬̻̳̏͗ ̵̢͙̬̭̹̻͂̍͐r̶̛̛̛̳͆e̸̜̫̜̲͋ä̴̫͎̗̃̋͒ç̸̝͇̞̘̙̳͌̌h̸͚̬̦͚̱̮̒͆̀͝i̵̧͙̪̣̞͌̑̊͜n̵̢͓̐̔̈́̏͠g̵̡͙̪̀̾̿͌̀͝ ̶̲̔̀ͅṫ̷̜͎̬̬̮́̕͘ę̴̻͍̽̾̐̓̚m̵̛̹̺̫̳̗͚̓̓̈́͝p̴̡̨̰̜̜͑̿̉̓e̸̗̍͠r̷̩̈́̾̕͠ä̵̛̮͍̖͂͒͆͝t̸̺͎͑u̵̝̜̖̟̱͈͗͋́͑͊̊͊r̶̨͔̣̀͋̑e̸͉̠͐̈ș̴̞͙̥͎̣̳́̍̒͆ ̸̬̯̭̔̂̅́̉̔ê̷̝̈͒̆̚͘s̷̢̡̡̛̫̔ţ̷̫̞̰̠͋͛͝ḯ̵͉̜̻̐̕m̵̛̞̩̭̤͓̭̖̊̀á̴̭̞͈͙͗͐̂͝t̵͉̭͕͚͇̆̈́̃̆e̶̻͙̠̲̯̗͇͛̓d̶͈͔̻̒ ̵̘̩̙͎͒̏̊͋͗̚͝ǎ̶̢̛̛̪͒̊͋̋t̶̡͚̲̗͙̰͆͛̇͊̐ ̴͖͈͕͍̗̱̺͌̋̀̐͑1̵͉̠͚̑͛̔͘͝4̴̨̛̮̻͒͐͊͝0̷͕͛̅̂͂0̸̀͑͊͜͠ ̶̨͓͌̑̿́̊̉d̶̪͔͖͈̮͂͒ͅḛ̴̹̭̥̘̳̍̆̑͜g̵̡͔͎̓͋͛̏r̸͖̗͈͔̂͜e̷̗̒̒è̸̡̲̠̗͇̾š̶̨̻͎̠̣ ̸̠̬̗̄C̸͎͙̝̹̲͛e̷̢̥͉̞̰͎̋̂̏̅̈́͑̕l̷͎͆̾̉͋͂̒͝š̵̫̾̃̓̏ì̵͔͉̞̳u̴̯̺̪͖̻͓͒̀̀́̓͗s̷̪͎̘͍̜̭̥̊.̷̬̲̰̝͚́̉̄̿̇̋̄ ̷̨̠̗̬̿̉Ǎ̶̢̨͚̟̖͚̥̀̓l̵̹̘͈̇̀͐̌̍̋͛l̶̝̣̰̓̽̅̄͒͑̒ ̶̨̱̖̗̮̽́̑̚h̴̢̼̲͉̑̄̈́̑͒̏̕í̵͎̜̙̺̘̾̓̐̓͜ͅș̵̺̈́̽̚ẗ̵̰́̊͗̊̀̑͘o̷̗̣̗̗̻̒̀r̷̡̼̗̺̲̗͓̎̊̋́̍̈́i̵̼͚̼̺̎c̸̤̦̙̟̈͐ȧ̸̡͍̦͇̉̇͋̀ļ̷̻̟͎̪̬͗̈̌͌̑̋ ̶̱̀ṫ̶͔̲̙̈̓͜r̵̰̍̌́̈́͘͘è̶̖̦̇̉̕a̴̺̦̳̫͚̞̾̍͂s̶̟̳̳̩͚̄̄̃ư̴̮͉̻̗̹͗͊͜r̴̬͛̓̈́͒̕e̴͔̮̱̟̺̅̋́͑͑͘s̴̡̛̩̖̠̤̥̈́̈́̐̆̃̇͜,̵̠̮̩͙̗̀ ̶̼͓̄i̸̭͓̩̳͋̈̑ͅn̷̰̾͒̑̓̚ç̶̨͉̉̈́̋͘͜l̸̙̠̱̤̰͇̑̾͛͂͝u̶̡̺̝͆͛͌̽̀ḑ̴͍͈͖̇́̾͊̆̈́̉ͅî̷͚̗̰̤͎͓̪̉̈́n̷̙̭̝͓̉̀̃g̵̢͚͎͎̾̈́̽̾̕ ̸͉͎͝t̸̞͔̬̲̳̫͈͊̈́ĥ̶̩͙e̴͍͔͓̗̜̋͋̋̈̐̏̀ ̴̢̛͎̥̝͍̌̏͗̆͊̉ͅƠ̸̥͓͓̿̋͑̈́͂͘t̶̛̘̖̝̤̙̍͜ͅę̸̜͎̼̀͗̅͛͠g̷̡̝͘ị̶̢̯̱͕͖͌̈́́ṋ̴̢͈͖͉͕̤͂̓̀́̅̀e̵̡̲̮̟̅́̆̈͝ ̶̌͐̀̉̚̚͜ẏ̸͌͆̇̑͜͝a̴̫̳̝̤̘̩͗ŗ̷͇̪̹̳̓̽͐̀̕͜i̴̢̝̬̳̾͐̎̐͘͝,̸̧̺͇̭͉͓͈̋ ̵̛̠̻́̋̈́͘͠w̵̢͆ȩ̴̘̪̻̈̊͗͐̚͜ͅṟ̵̛̻̹̼̗̱̣̀̑ẹ̸̪͚̹̞̿͗̉́ ̴͖͉̼͉͍̍̓̐̿̊͘͝ͅl̸̥̊o̸͎̺͈͔̘̍̈́͛̎̉̑̕ṣ̴̱̝̫̤̱̎̃͒͘̚t̴͕͕̤̲̄ ̴̬̜̓͋͒̒̒̽̌i̶̬̖̞̼̋͗̽͘͝n̷̢̢̝̮̙̱͒̀̆͝ ̸̱̈́͆̏̒̐̈́t̴̪̙̬̙͗ḩ̷͉̫̦͍̮̔̏͘ȩ̸̲̈́̍͠͝ ̶͓̜͉̫̖͙̀͐̐̂͑b̸̤̣́̈́̆̚ĺ̷̙̲̖̪ȃ̵̤̥̞͕͔̻̲z̵̡̲̮͐̌͌̓é̴̖̫̃͒̈.̶̟̘̔̐̈́]

4/4

[passthrough]

[It's a snap, brief and sharp, with nothing to say for it. And suddenly, there is no spirit. There is no storehouse. There is no spear on a shelf.

There's nothing.

It's dark. You're alone. There is no up, no down.

...

And yet, time still moves on.

What... can you do?]

[hearthwarming]

[ One moment he is there, hale and whole, if not a bit worn by his long, long life - but he's there, alive—

Until he is not.

The flame takes him in a flash, and she's unable to help it. Why does this happen? Her magic can heal people, can restore forests, can do all sorts of wondrous, amazing things... But it can't bring people back from the dead. And despite her best efforts, there are some things that are simply beyond her means. Sian. Otegine, too.

It's not fair. It's not fair. Why can't she save everyone? Why?

What can she do? The space where Otegine once was beside her, now an endless void that surrounds her. She falls to her knees, the enormity of everything she's seen finally, finally crashing down on her.

And she grieves. She doesn't care if he was the spirit of a weapon. He was just as much of a person to her as any other. He was her friend. And so she grieves. ]

[passthrough]

[You grieve. And grieve. The void stretches forever. Years and years. Decades fold over into a century, then another, of nothing.

You don't remember what happened. You knew, once. Who you were, what you were. You're not sure that you even are anymore. Because if you were... there would be no reason for this void.

You want to rest. You... have to be able to do that much... right? But something that is nothing can't rest, nor can it be awake.

Time moves. You don't. Maybe this is all that's left.

...

You hear the distant, sharp pang of metal again metal, a pinpoint of warmth that sits in the expanse of nothing like a fishing lure in the depths of the ocean. It repeats, over and over, like a voice of its own that you can't quite make out.

It's a call. A request. A plea.

You are nothing. It can't be for you. Can it.]

[hearthwarming]

[ The feeling surrounds her again, like she's not quite herself. And if that's the case, that means... It's not the end for Otegine. Right now, she's feeling what he must have felt once. And that means the fire... wasn't quite the end for him.

Which means... That feeling of metal striking metal, the warmth that she now knows to be the feeling of being forged into being...

It has to be for them. It has to be.

And if there's anything she knows about Otegine by now... he'll heed the call. Answer the plea. Rise up to it. Because in a way... it must be all that he knows to do. She understands this, now. ]

Otegine... Come back.

[passthrough]

[You acknowledge the point of light. The warmth of it spreads, and even though you have nothing left, you still reach out with all your strength.

The call answers back, the slams of the hammer rattling your ears.

Please fight for us. Please fight for us. Please fight for us.

It's a contract. You're not being forged, not a new life... but summoned. The hammer pounds, and so does a heartbeat you've never had before, a warm rush of blood --

There's a weight manifesting behind Ori, a warmth, a body that inhales with new pain as his outstretched hand clasps over hers, wrapping his free arm against her shoulders, pushing them forward, eyes that barely know how to see still keeping locked straight.]

I'm trying-- I'm trying, don't let me go--

[You're not entirely what you were. It hurts, so deeply, to be given a human body. And hundreds of years of memories, in a fragile form with an even more fragile heart, pour in like a flood.

You feel like you could crumple from the weight of it. Even Otegine has to press his forehead into your shoulder at how vibrant and painful it is, to feel.

But he does not let go. You're almost there. They're waiting for you.

...

It's 2205.

You are... or perhaps, you were... six hundred and twenty five years old.

This is temporary. You know it is. So does your new master. Clad in robes, their face covered. Your body is a gift from his magic. A gift made of your history.

Time won't stop for you. But at least, in this body, with feelings that weigh every memory that stitches you together like a paper doll... maybe the moments won't move so fast.

Maybe you'll truly have one more shot to be useful.


...

...

The memory ends. Ori is Ori once more.]

[hearthwarming]

[ She has never known a feeling like this. The feeling of not feeling, only to come into it with such force, such vigor. The feeling of not feeling at all, and then feeling so much.

It's painful, all-consuming, and yet... She knows. It's wonderful.

Without pain, one cannot feel happiness, either. Her hand comes up to grasp at the arm of Otegine's that's wrapped around hers, clutching tightly. She wants him to know. Feelings can hurt so, so much, but it's only when they can feel the pits of despair that they can appreciate how wonderful it is to feel anything else, too.

Ori is Ori once more.

And there is nothing more that she wants than to help show Otegine what a precious gift he's been given. She hopes she can. ]