- Invitation Status
- Preferred Character Gender
- Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Romance, Magical
Feather
Location ~ Devius Inn (Day 10 Morning)
If one could get headaches in Quest, Feather would have definitely woken up with one. A dull ache spread through her little body that still sang of the battle scars from Floor 1. She twisted and turned in the too-hard bed, trying to punch some fluffiness into her pillows but failing miserably without the strength of her dominant fist. Sunlight filtered through a small gap in the window curtain, streaming a patchwork of gold onto the blankets around her feet. Although groggy and sore, there was a bright side; at least the light wasn't rude enough to glare into her clockwork black eyes. But any sunlight this early was too much, and soon enough she found herself stumbling from the bed to snatch the curtain closed. Too rough. It ripped to one side too heavily, opening an even larger gap of sunlight on the opposite side of the window. A low snarl settled into her lips, punctuated by a frustrated breath as she carefully fixed the rough clothe over her window frame. It took an immense amount of fuss to block out all traces of light, and by the time she closed everything out there wasn't much point to keeping it closed in the first place. She was already awake, and increasingly becoming aware of the dull pain that pulsed through her still-damaged body. A muffled curse slid through her body as she threw herself back on the bed.
"Oh, how I hate this game..."
Laying there on the unforgiving mattress wasn't helping anything. As the minutes ticked by another ache bloomed in the pit of her stomach, protesting the lack of proper sustenance. On her way in she had take just enough care to assure the inn had a dining hall. Already her mind was far away from the crappy room, seeking the glorious scent of semi-masterfully cooked food. It took a small while to motivate her groggy muscles into movement, but soon enough the eleven year old girl was sitting upright in the bed, searching mindlessly for clothes to put on. It took her a few minutes to realize that her outfits - and all of her items for that matter - were stored away in the digital inventory menu. Stupidly she fumbled through the pixel screens, skipping straight to her outfit section. It occurred to her only after she summoned her normal outfit that it was too far gone to salvage. The sleeves were encrusted with grime and shredded from battle. The overcoat's tails were singed and decrepit, a miserable getup to be wearing after such abuse. Dismay sobered her sleepy expression into a pensive thing. The only other outfit she had readily prepared was a strange, flowing collection of black fabrics that would hang down her arms with wide sleeves, cross over her chest and stomach like a kimono-flavored corset, and billow below her waste in a short skirt that gave way to black leggings. It was a beautiful outfit... One she adored, truly, but could not wear in this state.
It costed her a fortune, not just because of the outfit itself, but because the outfit was sized to fit a much older body. Before officially starting the game she purchased it on a whim, along with the proper items to transform her body should she ever desire to do so. Originally she hadn't even planned to make that an option for herself. Going in as an eleven year old girl - her true age - hadn't been imminently dangerous until the death penalty had been announced. In the past few days she had experienced enough verbal flogging and glances to last a life time - simply because she was a little girl, pretending to be some mature player. And she was surviving... while others were dying. Not just pride was at stake anymore. It was probably the smartest idea to use this outfit and remake her body to a new image... but using this outfit for such things seemed almost a sin. For a short while she summoned her only other outfit and looked over it with a troubled expression. Could she really change? Was it better to wait until she washed her hands of Klugh? But waiting meant putting back on her dirty and torn-up outfit, and she didn't so much favor doing that. Now was probably the best time... she'd decided the night before that Devius would be the home of her recreation, the new slate upon which she approached this game. What was the sense in waiting?
There was none, really. Not that she could see. Maybe it was a wounded pride that made her so eager, and yet so opposed to changing. The one unconquerable trait that flawed Lira's system. She was forced to fight a two-sided internal battle of wits for so long that eventually the little girl banked on her frustration and pushed herself into doing what had to be done. Withdrawing the proper item from her inventory, Feather tapped in to the character-customization system and got to work. Her head bent meticulously over the screen as she adjusted things - height, weight, age. All of her fundamental features remained the same, but when she finally accepted the change, her avatar appeared to nearly age right before her own eyes. Dimensions of her face elongated and carved into more defined and beautiful shapes. Her chest filled out a little bit, still considerably small but definitely enough to show curves. Hips bloomed much the same way beneath her waist, and were scathed by a new length of long black hair. A glance in the mirror confirmed her decisions. She now looked like an older, more matured version of the little raven that originally stepped foot in Quest. Growing from 11 to 18 in a moment. It was a marvelous and startling thing... something she tried not to fuss about as she carefully pulled on her new garments Several layers went into the composition of her outfit, but once everything had been carefully put in place her black wears flowed seamlessly into one solid picture of beauty. So quickly things could change in this game... Yet still, her mind remained the same hardened and sensible system; expression taught into straight composure with no hint of childish insolence.
It was a big change, but somehow she felt more comfortable this way. More like herself, despite having aged her avatar to be much older than reality. This was a body deserving of faith rather than ridicule. She could only hope, as she gathered her items and slid out of the room toward the dining hall, that things would really change now in this Game.
Location ~ Devius Inn (Day 10 Morning)
If one could get headaches in Quest, Feather would have definitely woken up with one. A dull ache spread through her little body that still sang of the battle scars from Floor 1. She twisted and turned in the too-hard bed, trying to punch some fluffiness into her pillows but failing miserably without the strength of her dominant fist. Sunlight filtered through a small gap in the window curtain, streaming a patchwork of gold onto the blankets around her feet. Although groggy and sore, there was a bright side; at least the light wasn't rude enough to glare into her clockwork black eyes. But any sunlight this early was too much, and soon enough she found herself stumbling from the bed to snatch the curtain closed. Too rough. It ripped to one side too heavily, opening an even larger gap of sunlight on the opposite side of the window. A low snarl settled into her lips, punctuated by a frustrated breath as she carefully fixed the rough clothe over her window frame. It took an immense amount of fuss to block out all traces of light, and by the time she closed everything out there wasn't much point to keeping it closed in the first place. She was already awake, and increasingly becoming aware of the dull pain that pulsed through her still-damaged body. A muffled curse slid through her body as she threw herself back on the bed.
"Oh, how I hate this game..."
Laying there on the unforgiving mattress wasn't helping anything. As the minutes ticked by another ache bloomed in the pit of her stomach, protesting the lack of proper sustenance. On her way in she had take just enough care to assure the inn had a dining hall. Already her mind was far away from the crappy room, seeking the glorious scent of semi-masterfully cooked food. It took a small while to motivate her groggy muscles into movement, but soon enough the eleven year old girl was sitting upright in the bed, searching mindlessly for clothes to put on. It took her a few minutes to realize that her outfits - and all of her items for that matter - were stored away in the digital inventory menu. Stupidly she fumbled through the pixel screens, skipping straight to her outfit section. It occurred to her only after she summoned her normal outfit that it was too far gone to salvage. The sleeves were encrusted with grime and shredded from battle. The overcoat's tails were singed and decrepit, a miserable getup to be wearing after such abuse. Dismay sobered her sleepy expression into a pensive thing. The only other outfit she had readily prepared was a strange, flowing collection of black fabrics that would hang down her arms with wide sleeves, cross over her chest and stomach like a kimono-flavored corset, and billow below her waste in a short skirt that gave way to black leggings. It was a beautiful outfit... One she adored, truly, but could not wear in this state.
It costed her a fortune, not just because of the outfit itself, but because the outfit was sized to fit a much older body. Before officially starting the game she purchased it on a whim, along with the proper items to transform her body should she ever desire to do so. Originally she hadn't even planned to make that an option for herself. Going in as an eleven year old girl - her true age - hadn't been imminently dangerous until the death penalty had been announced. In the past few days she had experienced enough verbal flogging and glances to last a life time - simply because she was a little girl, pretending to be some mature player. And she was surviving... while others were dying. Not just pride was at stake anymore. It was probably the smartest idea to use this outfit and remake her body to a new image... but using this outfit for such things seemed almost a sin. For a short while she summoned her only other outfit and looked over it with a troubled expression. Could she really change? Was it better to wait until she washed her hands of Klugh? But waiting meant putting back on her dirty and torn-up outfit, and she didn't so much favor doing that. Now was probably the best time... she'd decided the night before that Devius would be the home of her recreation, the new slate upon which she approached this game. What was the sense in waiting?
There was none, really. Not that she could see. Maybe it was a wounded pride that made her so eager, and yet so opposed to changing. The one unconquerable trait that flawed Lira's system. She was forced to fight a two-sided internal battle of wits for so long that eventually the little girl banked on her frustration and pushed herself into doing what had to be done. Withdrawing the proper item from her inventory, Feather tapped in to the character-customization system and got to work. Her head bent meticulously over the screen as she adjusted things - height, weight, age. All of her fundamental features remained the same, but when she finally accepted the change, her avatar appeared to nearly age right before her own eyes. Dimensions of her face elongated and carved into more defined and beautiful shapes. Her chest filled out a little bit, still considerably small but definitely enough to show curves. Hips bloomed much the same way beneath her waist, and were scathed by a new length of long black hair. A glance in the mirror confirmed her decisions. She now looked like an older, more matured version of the little raven that originally stepped foot in Quest. Growing from 11 to 18 in a moment. It was a marvelous and startling thing... something she tried not to fuss about as she carefully pulled on her new garments Several layers went into the composition of her outfit, but once everything had been carefully put in place her black wears flowed seamlessly into one solid picture of beauty. So quickly things could change in this game... Yet still, her mind remained the same hardened and sensible system; expression taught into straight composure with no hint of childish insolence.
It was a big change, but somehow she felt more comfortable this way. More like herself, despite having aged her avatar to be much older than reality. This was a body deserving of faith rather than ridicule. She could only hope, as she gathered her items and slid out of the room toward the dining hall, that things would really change now in this Game.