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PRINCESS MAKER 1.5: WILD CITY
[ When you insert the key and open the door, you'll find yourself stepping outside your home and into the bustling streets of the city slums. You walk down the street, only to hear the sound of a scream—
You rush to the scene: a young woman lies prone on the ground, having just been hit by a carriage. Her tattered clothes indicate her poverty; upon noticing such tatters, the driver simply moves on, and you know this to simply be a fact of this cruel life. But, you can hear something else—besides the mother's labored breathing, you can hear the sound of an infant. You roll her body over and lo—still cradled protectively is a young girl, though she will not be protected for much longer.
. . . Not unless you can help it. None else will—in these slums no one could care less if another child's life is lost—but you can do something about this. With nothing else on your mind, you pick the girl up, carrying her back to your humble abode.
Inside your apartment is a single living space without any doors—you can hear noises of the bustling life outside, as well as other people beyond the thin walls. The girl continues to cry, as though knowing to mourn, and you rock her back and forth, singing softly to your new charge to soothe her to sleep. ]
-
[ Slowly, the scene changes, fading in and out with various silent scenes—the baby cries, and in turn, the upstairs tenants knock at your ceiling; she finds her first words in your song, voice as fragile as the windpipe that carries the sound; a little toddler, she finds an injured bird and carries it home with her; you disagree on the bird's tenancy, and she storms out to run away for a little while as you regret; she returns sullenly with a secret nest built in the alley and ignores everything you say; then the wall becomes opaque. ]
[ In the corner of the room, a young girl the age of 11 crouches, looking away from you. She hums your song to the bird on her finger, which chirps along with her.
You wish you could have done better for your baby girl. But, this is what you love to do and maybe you'll get a gig that pays well enough that you two can move out of this shithole—hopefully. You tried your best to rear her, but with how infrequent you're in the house, working odd jobs in the day and performing at the pub at night, you're not sure anymore. You know she is capable of anything if she puts her mind to it—even becoming a princess—but you also know it's not easy to become a princess, and she's horribly equipped for any of that. Then again, if anything your little tyke is tough, and if anyone could be a rags-to-riches princess, it would be her. Fortunately, when she goes to the Lost Continent, she won't be alone: you, as her longtime caretaker (her one and only parent, if you may be so bold), may accompany her to her new school. You'll be her ally, her support, her greatest weapon; you'll be the one who determines her success . . . or her failure. ]
[ But just how were you able to be sponsored in the first place? . . . The story's rather funny, really.
One day an old man arrived at your house, seeking shelter. You let him stay the night, of course, and normally that would have been that, right? Evidently he was a tribesman from the vast deserts of New Senteca - you couldn't imagine what he was doing all the way out here, and he wasn't really willing to tell you. Perhaps running from the undead? It couldn't possibly be easy living out there, not at all.
But you always had heard those tribes perform strange acts of witchcraft, and while you never really paid it much mind, what happened the morning he left made you start to think.
He thanked you for your time, shook your hands, and then crouched down to pat your daughter's head, staring deep into her eyes. After a tense, awkward moment, he proclaimed:
"This one is the one who will receive the gift of the King of the Sea, she who's life was cut short, she who brings the rain, she who saw that we will one day be granted safe passage across stormy waters to a better life! The twice-dead, blind spirit of the storms, Dice the Short-Lived!"
And then he left without another word.
The next day, you received a letter in the mail.
Somehow, your daughter would be sent to the Lost Continent, for a chance to lead the rebuilding. And as strange as the circumstances seemed, you were not about to squander this chance for her. After all, it's fate. . .isn't it? ]
You rush to the scene: a young woman lies prone on the ground, having just been hit by a carriage. Her tattered clothes indicate her poverty; upon noticing such tatters, the driver simply moves on, and you know this to simply be a fact of this cruel life. But, you can hear something else—besides the mother's labored breathing, you can hear the sound of an infant. You roll her body over and lo—still cradled protectively is a young girl, though she will not be protected for much longer.
. . . Not unless you can help it. None else will—in these slums no one could care less if another child's life is lost—but you can do something about this. With nothing else on your mind, you pick the girl up, carrying her back to your humble abode.
Inside your apartment is a single living space without any doors—you can hear noises of the bustling life outside, as well as other people beyond the thin walls. The girl continues to cry, as though knowing to mourn, and you rock her back and forth, singing softly to your new charge to soothe her to sleep. ]
-
[ Slowly, the scene changes, fading in and out with various silent scenes—the baby cries, and in turn, the upstairs tenants knock at your ceiling; she finds her first words in your song, voice as fragile as the windpipe that carries the sound; a little toddler, she finds an injured bird and carries it home with her; you disagree on the bird's tenancy, and she storms out to run away for a little while as you regret; she returns sullenly with a secret nest built in the alley and ignores everything you say; then the wall becomes opaque. ]
[ In the corner of the room, a young girl the age of 11 crouches, looking away from you. She hums your song to the bird on her finger, which chirps along with her.
You wish you could have done better for your baby girl. But, this is what you love to do and maybe you'll get a gig that pays well enough that you two can move out of this shithole—hopefully. You tried your best to rear her, but with how infrequent you're in the house, working odd jobs in the day and performing at the pub at night, you're not sure anymore. You know she is capable of anything if she puts her mind to it—even becoming a princess—but you also know it's not easy to become a princess, and she's horribly equipped for any of that. Then again, if anything your little tyke is tough, and if anyone could be a rags-to-riches princess, it would be her. Fortunately, when she goes to the Lost Continent, she won't be alone: you, as her longtime caretaker (her one and only parent, if you may be so bold), may accompany her to her new school. You'll be her ally, her support, her greatest weapon; you'll be the one who determines her success . . . or her failure. ]
[ But just how were you able to be sponsored in the first place? . . . The story's rather funny, really.
One day an old man arrived at your house, seeking shelter. You let him stay the night, of course, and normally that would have been that, right? Evidently he was a tribesman from the vast deserts of New Senteca - you couldn't imagine what he was doing all the way out here, and he wasn't really willing to tell you. Perhaps running from the undead? It couldn't possibly be easy living out there, not at all.
But you always had heard those tribes perform strange acts of witchcraft, and while you never really paid it much mind, what happened the morning he left made you start to think.
He thanked you for your time, shook your hands, and then crouched down to pat your daughter's head, staring deep into her eyes. After a tense, awkward moment, he proclaimed:
"This one is the one who will receive the gift of the King of the Sea, she who's life was cut short, she who brings the rain, she who saw that we will one day be granted safe passage across stormy waters to a better life! The twice-dead, blind spirit of the storms, Dice the Short-Lived!"
And then he left without another word.
The next day, you received a letter in the mail.
Somehow, your daughter would be sent to the Lost Continent, for a chance to lead the rebuilding. And as strange as the circumstances seemed, you were not about to squander this chance for her. After all, it's fate. . .isn't it? ]
DECISION
Re: DECISION
- Encouraging Carrie to spend time with LiliS's child. They point out that she also has a dog, and who could be a better choice of friend than a fellow dog owner??
- Talon is continuing with his princess ruse, attending classes and meals with the students and keeping a sharp eye out for any suspicious behavior by any teachers or other school staff (cleaners, chefs, administrators, etc)
--- He is also staking out the school at night, paying special attention to the classrooms and locker rooms since they were already targetted. He's still using his animal forms to move about unnoticed here—typically mice or small insects.
- Going to meet with school officials to express concern about the heated animosity towards magic users. They will demand that the school take steps to teach the children that magic alone is not a reason to fear anyone, especially when the evidence that has been uncovered is conflicting and supicious on its own.
- As in the solution to the other dilemma, Carrie is being open about her abilities (with the secret supervision of Talon in disguise) and showing the other children that there's nothing to fear from them.
- After receiving a dove from Zrael's child, wild city encourages Carrie to befriend her as well. They'll help her adapt her dog training skills to teaching the dove some basic tricks to show off to her (hopefully) new friend. ]
RESULT
While there's not really anything any more suspicious than usual, Talon can confirm that there are what we like to call in the business "a metric shitton of bribes" being passed around. A lot of money is changing hands, and it seems not all of it can be tracked to the FAMiLY that was rumoured to have been performing bribes last semester (though some of it totally is them).
No, most of it seems to be coming from outside the school.
More importantly though there are now armed knights knocking at your door after your meeting with school officials.
So there's that.
You should probably do something about that.
Re: RESULT
But they'll settle for cracking a window to call out ]
Are the armed guards really necessary? If you explain what this is about, we can discuss this like civil adults.
Re: RESULT
...civil...adults?
And then one of her fellows nudges her, and she nods.
"I see, so they're kidnapping children to turn them into witches now...how disgusting. Ready the torches."
And then, to Talon:
"We have your home surrounded, witches! You are under arrest for the crime of witchcraft! Surrender peacefully and we will have you deported back to New Senteca and assigned to the Plaguebearer Brigades! Otherwise, we will end you here and now!"
Re: RESULT
Is this the welcome you've had in store for us? First you destroy your own classroom and spread rumors about children. You plant a weapon in a child's locker. You seek to spread dissent, you take bribes, you do everything in your power to destroy the reputation OF CHILDREN, and now you are trying to use the city's guard to commit an open murder?
Because our child did some harmless tricks? Because she was honest and kind in the face of torment that you manufactured? The only people I see worthy of penalty here are you. If you have any doubts, go and speak with the houses of Lilis and Zrael. They can confirm everything I have just said.
Re: RESULT
"Witchcraft and obstruction of justice, then."
The knights are now tossing lit torches at and into your hovel.
Re: RESULT
[Grabbing the back of Talon's jacket]
Time for an emergency exit. Frog materia. Out the window. Now.
Re: RESULT
FINAL RESULT
Except...
LiliS is not at LiliS. So that's interesting.