*Damn son... been a while, right? Time flies. I'm alive, all good. Took my math exam, gonna have more exams in a month or so. For now, I'm trying to get my shit together (got a little series on YouTube & Instagram w short videos where I low key brief yall on the shi I do during my day) so I hope to get into writing shape once more. Maybe not as many chapters, but still some coming out (and maybe other goodies I hope to make over the summer). Without further ado, enjoy. Peace out and Deus vult*
The show had ended, or so Mark declared to himself while walking out the bathroom, face clean, adored with a rosy tint that he's grown familiar with. Trying to hide it would only go so far, yet no one was around to see it. Himeko had gone ahead and left right before him, placing just enough distance that he felt confused.
'There is some kinda chemistry, I'd say... yet it's like the both of us keep dancing around it. Whatever, I guess...'
Familiar with his own habits and still rested from his nap, he chose to explore Penacony a little, just a solo walk to clear his mind. It brought back memories of lonely nights spent in the company of a dead city, the sounds muffled by darkness and artificial light. None could see him during those times.
'Hmm, I guess I could take a look around the hotel. I haven't done so in quite some time, so I guess the experience wouldn't hurt. Hell, as tired as I am from seeing the same place, there's always something hiding away in some corner.'
Thus, he walked. First steps guided him through reality, lacking flashy lights and advertisements that hungered for attention, be it his or that of strangers who drowned their sorrow in dreams.
He had grown alienated from it, like listening to the original version of a melody after enjoying a remix on full blast for a couple of days. It was tranquil, homey in a way lost to him. With a sigh, the bar became his place for respite, followed by a drink, the first in a rather long time.
The transparent liquid danced along the rim, following the gentle twirl he gave it, drawing his eyes deeper and deeper into space.
'It's so familiar... memories with this place...'
The surroundings asked him for a glance, yet more so did the memories, images of people he knows who are no longer present. The violet eyes still called out to him, hiding eternal shadows of depths unknown. Space itself would probably sink inside of it, becoming one with the nothingness.
The barman, a guy named Anderson, threw a few glances his way, subtle but not unseen. Mark couldn't care less, since looking was normal for everyone—not staring, however, something that the person who just materialized by his side was doing.
"Came here to bother me again, Swan?" he asked calmly, taking a sip of the strong alcohol, letting it go to his core with a soft sting.
"Always quick to push me away, aren't you, Mark?" she chuckled softly, cheek resting in her palm as she studied him. "I sensed some memories coming back, and I found it within my authority as your self-proclaimed 'therapist,' let's say, to come and have a chat with you."
The tiny quip did make his lips twitch, the same half-assed twitch that only the left side of his face performed, leaving the other part inert.
"Heh, you're hungry for my memories, aren't ya? Welp, at least you're not bad company. Still, I'm fine... just need some alone time."
With a nod, she patted his shoulder before vanishing into thin air, leaving poor Anderson in a momentary stupor.
Mark took one last swig of his drink, letting it flow down his throat before he stood up, aiming right for the hotel room where the chaos began. It felt like yesterday, but it had been a while. Perhaps time passed too fast, yet he barely realized it.
'The events took a bit longer in between, if I'm not wrong, yet somehow things fell into place... Perhaps it's Meritas' doing; who knows? At this point, I doubt I'll get answers even if I ask that thing, whatever he may be'.
The stairs came into view, the same old steps where the crew met before to discuss when the Penacony crisis had started, the steps where Himeko did get angry at him for a reason he understood, but trying to gauge why it affected her that much went beyond him.
'Guess it's just in my hea-'
He quickly stabilized both himself and the tiny figure that somehow bumped into him.
"Oh, my apologies, sir, I—"
Mark looked down, only to notice the boy apologizing like he had ruined something priceless.
"No worries, stuff like this happens. I should be looking where I go too, unless I want to risk bre-"
His voice stuck in his throat. Mark stared at the boy, an impossibility that lived and breathed. It wasn't in the dream... hell, even there the boy shouldn't exist any longer, and yet... he's right in front of him.
"Misha... HOW?"
Misha stared up at Mark, a tiny jolt of pain in his shoulders from the man's sudden grip on them.
"I don't know," squeaked the boy, unsure of what Mark even wanted from him.
"How come you're real? I can just..."
Mark patted the boy, ruffling his hair, tugging slightly on the strands. It was no trick, and it certainly felt as tangible as the word could describe.
"I don't know either, but it just... happened at some point. I woke up alongside Mister Gallagher, both of us in reality. He was even more confused than me at the time, but he said that you did something and that's why we're both here now."
Mark blinked once, then froze, his grip softening as a million thoughts came crawling up his back, stabbing right through his skull. What is it that he had done to keep them alive? When did he even do that?
The memories were there of both complaining about Mark's touch being off the first time it happened.
'Hell, let me think... I touched them long before, but then they came back after I nearly died in the battle, and then there was the flash of Light, mixed in with everything... could it be an effect of that too? I've seen it heal, but I'm not sure... heck, when did this even...'
Misha saw the confusion written on his face, so he took a quick moment to try and defuse some of his tangled neurons.
"You could go to the Reverie and find Mister Gallagher at Dreamjolt Hostelry. He usually hangs around there. Perhaps he knows more."
Mark nodded, quickly fixing up the bellboy.
"Got it, Misha. Got it. Thank you, and keep your head high. Now that I know you're here too, perhaps one day we'll go on an adventure together."
With a quick brush of his index finger under his eye, the tear remained hidden as Mark took off to his room, ready to enter the dream the 'normal' way. He didn't know of it; no one had told him a thing, and perhaps it made sense why. The entire scene after his return was chaos, all thanks to his phone and the secrets it bears.
'I need some answers, or at least to know that something did happen related to it. Hell, it's huge news the more I think of it... Altering memories, making them real— this shit is insane. Hell, maybe the Xianzhou has a chance if I find a way to alter memories, memoria, whatever...'
The door slammed open, and Mark shut it close with a chunk of ice that was gone as quick as it materialized. He leapt into the bathtub, closing his eyes and letting the sleep grab a hold of him, feeling the pull take him to the dream world.
He barely found himself by the Clockie statue that he took to the skies, fire blazing behind him as the man propelled himself as a rocket for the millionth time. It was one of his favorite things to pull, but in that moment it wasn't about the ride, but rather about the speed and his urgent need for knowledge.
It took him a few moments, but the rush was gone and he realized that he'd have to use a space anchor.
'Damn me and my stupidity when I'm in a rush.'
Thus, there he was, in the somewhat twisted version of the dream, the place that once again brought memories of past encounters. SAM, Acheron, Black Swan, Stelle... the way his mind had been turning against himself.
With swift moves, he chose to dash this time around, running around silently until he reached it: Dreamjolt Hostelry. Siobhan was there, talking with the man himself. Mark simply stared at him, shaking his head slightly.
"Son of a... I guess the others forgot to tell me you're alive, or else I'd have come find you sooner," chuckled Mark, walking further inside.With a nod, he saluted Siobhan, focusing once more on Gallagher, who enjoyed his drink in peace.
"I was just as surprised when it happened. We met, and you did something, whatever it might be, when you touched me," he said curtly, looking rather nonchalant as usual. It was his attitude in general, and Mark liked it. "Judging by your obvious surprise, I take it that you also have no idea what happened."
"Right on the money. I came here hoping that you'd have SOME sort of answer, or at least some description to how you felt and what happened."
During their talk, Siobhan worked a drink for Mark, placing it on the bar in front of an empty seat.
"This one's on the house. It's you I have to thank for still getting to enjoy a drink with Gallagher."
"Well," hummed Mark, sliding himself into the seat, resting on the stool as he took a sip of the sweet drink. "I don't think I did anything by myself, but... hmm..."
The two stared at him, watching Mark rub his chin for a few seconds while in thought.
"I did want to save more people, so it might have to do with that... I guess it happened passively, not actively."
"Passively? How so?" asked Gallagher, taking a swig of his drink as Mark tried to come up with an answer. "And to answer your question, I only remember that slowly I felt myself change, but I couldn't quite pinpoint what was going on until that flash of light struck and I woke up outside this dream."
Mark blinked slowly, nodding along while piecing his own ideas like a puzzle.
'It's not like I can tell 'em about my Will. I suspect it played a role in guiding my power and what not, plus what can merely be described as divine intervention... I should study this more, but in private. For now...'
Fist placed against his lips, the sound of him clearing his throat erupted louder than expected.
"I can't exactly discuss much on the topic, but I think that some of my power just found its way out and somehow worked with your memetic form or whatever it was to create an actual being. It's just a theory tho..."
'A game theory, heh.'
"I see... just power that slipped out," mumbled Gallagher, staring at Mark for a couple of seconds before nodding. "You were oblivious to it back then too, so I understand. Whatever the reason, I'm here now. Despite all that's happened, I guess I still have a duty to fulfill, a promise made to someone."
Glancing to Siobhan, Mark nodded with a slight curl of his lips.
"And perhaps a new promise to be made. But hey, who am I to talk, right?" he laughed, downing the drink. He stood up quickly, somewhat scared that she'd reach out to grab him for speaking like that.
"In any case, I'm glad to know Penacony still has someone like you here. I'm sure you two actually care for things, so... I'll go my way knowing that the Planet of Festivities remains in good hands. Peace out, and who knows when we'll meet again? I guess it'll happen when we least expect it, but whatever."
With that, he waved and stole one last look over his shoulder, nodding in response to the raised glasses. Words weren't needed in abundance with them, or at least that's how it felt for him. Bartenders are the type to understand much from little thanks to working with people of every possible sort.
'At least I know that he's just as clueless for the most part... or maybe he's hiding shit from me. Heck, he's a follower of Enigmat... meh, whatever. So long as, if he's actually hiding the truth, he's keeping it a secret in front of others too, I'm good.'
With the matter settled, he took one look around before closing his eyes, allowing whatever process took place to send him back to the Golden Hour. The place was nauseatingly loud in that moment, a transition rougher than rocks from the quiet bar to the intense cacophony of senses.
'Since I did come out for a walk, I might as well keep going here and there. The game has some time before release, so it's fine...'
Mark fell dead in his tracks, looking up before sighing.
"God... I forgot the advertisements... I forgot I have to promote it..."
Reluctantly, Mark acknowledged the mistake. In his craze for whatever his brain showed him, he had totally forgotten to promote the product.
'Promote, promote... I guess I could pull something, but I'm not sure how much I want to... hmmmm...'
The people around him walked past while shooting him some glances, not daring to disturb whatever he had going on. Mumbles left his lips in heaps, but none made sense to anyone but himself. Determined glint in his eyes, Mark took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.
"I might have to contact Owlbert. He might be interested in stuff after the shenanigans I did... but I'll screw myself over with these things. I wanted to keep a low profile, but at this point I'm sure I did all BUT KEEP A DAMNED LOW PROFILE..."
"Fuck it, I'll just try to contact him for an interview and I'll make sure to promote Markcraft once it's almost done for the release date."
That was his plan, a simple exchange with the IPC that was quite the gamble: he might end up being a hot subject for them with no one caring for the game, or he'd end up snatching the public as customers... or maybe Owlbert didn't care about interviewing him anymore since it had been a while since the Xianzhou competition or the situation in Penacony.
"Whatever happens, happens. With God we go."