A drop of moisture stung hot at the corner of Camille’s steel grey eyes as a harsh white light enveloped her pale body. The light felt sterile and for a moment the flutter of her eyelids reminded her of a scene from one of those doctor programs on the television that her mother’s friends so adored. It had come as a shock after hours spent in the pale grey solitude of the character creation room. Millie, dressed only in the simple undergarments the game provided, had taken painstaking efforts to sculpt her image into something presentable, kneading her skin like clay she’d stretched and smoothed her imperfections until she was almost good as new. She became aware of new surroundings as her pupils constricted. Camille was standing, statuesque in her mauve mini skirt and lace camisole, at the heart of an ancient forest. She shook a shaggy mane of brittle black hair that brushed against her shoulders. She had to keep reminding herself that the forest around her was nothing but lines of code. As a diligent scholar, she’d never had much use for distractions like video games. Her mother felt they were a waste of time and money; a philosophy her dorm mate found cruel and unusual. The girl had given her old headset to Millie as a hand-me-down after she received the newer model on her birthday. After weeks of collecting dust in the back of a closet, Millie had succumbed to her fate. This was her first time experiencing virtual reality and she couldn’t help being more than a little impressed. Everything looked and felt so… real. She wondered if all the games would be similar. Camille sauntered down the path, scraping the rubber soul of her boot against the rough bark of a gnarled old tree as she passed by. “My word!” She exclaimed, taking in the weight of it beneath her kick. She stood back a little to take in the full picture, taking in a staggered breath. An earthy scent lingered in the air around the moss draped trunk, rousing memories of blanket forts and stick swords in the woods behind her childhood home. Camille reckoned the game had to be pretty expensive if this was the starting zone and, out of curiosity, she lifted her palm towards her face to reveal a futuristic display. Mesmerized, she scrolled through the menu in search of a map. Finally, she admitted defeat and brushing her dark bangs aside, she ventured still further down the path. It wasn’t long before a swiftly flowing river came into view and she headed down towards the edge of the bank. She stooped to gather a sip of water in her cupped palms but froze as the leaves on the far bank rustled ever so slightly. She stood, peering cautiously into the dense underbrush for one heart pounding moment before hurrying back to the path. tag: @Izavelle Rocherre and @Zakari Amaretto
Eventually, Izavelle found a very obvious road: cleaving through the forestry was a broad dirt track, run through with innumerable rivulets as of wheels, such as it had acquired a gnarled sort of character, which made it comforting: it was a road often travelled. The brunette set off down it. Here in incorporeal reality, she was whole in a way that had been lost to her in life. Her steps were no longer afflicted with a hollow effeteness that pricked her brain with uncharacteristic dread. When first her condition of weakness had begun to creep in, Izavelle had driven herself to collapse; only after a few obstinate repetitions had she finally resigned herself to her fate. It was a guilty pleasure, this. Still, such thoughts worried her little, for she had forbidden them from her mind: it was with a joyous and spritely step that she trekked. The path was winding, somewhat, so that what was upcoming was rarely in view; soon the road threaded close to a river, which ran parallel to it thence, tightening the path in its adherence to a due direction. Izavelle was only just beginning to think it odd that she had as yet encountered no others when a woman rustled in from the west side of the path far up ahead, seemingly distracted, as she did not at first notice her white-robed fellow player a little ways back the way she had come. Unless she possessed some very small weapons and was expert at concealing them, the stranger seemed, to Izavelle, to be unarmed. The mild bristling of her movement, in contrast with her lack of hurry, painted her as probably of a circumstance with the German, who could easily imagine embodying such anxiety having been dropped in an all-too-real forest in the middle of nowhere - were she prone to such emotions. Izavelle rushed somewhat to catch up, as seemed only natural. Perhaps she could assuage some of the stranger's apparent nervousness with her presence. "Excuse me," she politely hailed from behind the woman she knew not to be named Camille, once within earshot. Adopting an amicable expression, she raised her hand in a lofty wave. Hoping that the other female would notice her and pause in her stride, Izavelle eventually settled back into her pensive, arms-folded pose once she was close by. "You are a new player, yes? I am as well." Her voice was soft like cotton wool. She extended a doll-like hand towards the other, whereupon her smile became only sunnier. "I am Izavelle Rocherre. So glad to meet you."
Further upstream of the winding river, a man with silver hair held back by a blue bandana had retired with his back against a gnarled tree. The area around him revealed the stumps of several trees that had been fell, as well as a messy assortment of makeshift trees. At the edge of the river nearby, a small raft made up of uneven planks and a patchwork sail bobbed along the coast, hanging onto a stone by rope made from plant fibers. Next to the raft was a smoldering campfire and several barrels that had odds and ends such as low level clothes and weapons that had been hastily placed inside. Beads of sweat poured down the blue clad man’s face, which he wiped away with the sleeve of his jacket as he panted with his mouth open and his eyes closed. His hands had evidence of grime from toils of hard work as he regained his stamina under the merciful shade of the tree he had spared. This rather mundane scene was interrupted by the sound of rustling from the brush behind him. His eyes quickly opened, but by the time they were open he was already too late. A group of six creatures, no bigger than children, ran from the bushes towards the fruits of his labor. Wicked little creatures with devilish pointed ears and ruddy pot bellies had scurried towards his raft and began dragging his barrels onto the raft as well. They spoke in shrill voices, in a language that he could not comprehend, rushing quickly to cut the poor quality rope that he had made and unfurling the patchwork sail. He stood with a look of dismay on his face as his ship began to float down stream before his vary eyes. Pulling a long slender blade with a pointed tip from its sheath as he stood, he rushed towards the riverbed, but he was too late to stop the goblins. The creatures sneered at him and made foul gestures at him as he approached. “Stop, damn it!” he called as he began chasing them, following the riverbed on foot. He was able to keep pace with the rickety raft, but the creatures weren’t content to only mock him as he pursued them. The lot of them seemed to be carrying small pouches at their sides full of stones, which they began to pelt towards the frantic man. One of the stones made impact with his arm, and he let out a frustrated grunt, but he would not relent from following them. (I left distance from you all up to you guys, so if you want to go another round of talking to each other before I am in your line of sight feel free!)
Camille sloshed through pools of dappled light as she hurried down the well worn path and away from danger. She reckoned this was as safe a place as she might find inside the game, being a usual stomping ground for new players, but it wouldn’t do to let her guard down. She still didn’t know where she was supposed to go, so she raised her palm so she could reference the map and followed the path a little further along the river. She considered turning around to confront whatever had been making such a ruckus in the underbrush earlier. She’d been fixin’ to holler if something jumped out to grab her! It might have been a giant spider. She thought with a shudder as her mind automatically jumped to the worst case scenario. If that were a possibility than going back wasn’t an option… no matter how desperate she might get. Then again, it could be another player. They would probably be more experienced than Millie regardless of who they were. She didn’t have an idea how games like this usually worked and while having someone around who knew what they were supposed to be doing would probably be an asset, there was no guarantee they would just see her as easy pickings. If it were a monster or a player mattered little now. She’d heard that video games often brought out people’s competitive side and she knew better than to rely on the mercy of others. Without a weapon she was sure to meet a swift and painful end. Camille stumbled through the forest, her attention fixed upon the holographic map. She hardly noticed the faint pitter patter of a woman rushing to catch up. It wasn’t until someone called out to her that she slowed her pace, glancing around wildly. It was a brunette woman with kind eyes and skin like a porcelain doll. A white robe draped across her diminutive frame making it hard to believe she could be hiding any malicious intent. The girl’s hair was shoulder length, same as Camille’s, but it poured down like molasses where her own protruded from her scalp like sharp wires of varying length. She was willowy and graceful, in a mature sort of way while Camille was long and flat. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, dawdling for a moment before offering a response. “Um… Mil- I’m Camille Hawkins.” She blushed, “Is it that obvious? It is my first time... and I haven’t got anything worth taking yet, if you wondered.” @Izavelle Rocherre @Zakari Amaretto
The blackette had been rendered a little abashed by Izavelle's approach, which was a fair response: immersed in an entirely different world, all common manners had to be called into question, leaving one extremely vulnerable, particularly if they had not even a rudimentary weapon to defend themselves with. It was an unpleasant predicament that the German was eager to allay, even if she was similarly novitiate. Her hand remained extended, unreciprocated by the woman who revealed herself as Camille Hawkins, though that could easily be explained by caution and nervousness, for she immediately struck as a politic, agreeable type. Thus, Izavelle's smile remained. "I'm not that person," she reassured Camille in simple terms, more lucent than airy now, yet still entirely cordial. "In fact, quite the opposite one, in truth. I'm not very defensible myself, for the moment - but there is still strength in numbers, wouldn't you agree?" She addended her query with an encouraging smile. The offer was a little verbose, but still plain. (I was considering adding a tie-in to @Zakari Amaretto at the end here, but I couldn't figure out how to do so without assuming too much of or ignoring @Camille 's response.)
The man continued down the riverbank along the coast as the goblins themselves were sped along on the makeshift raft that he had built. He could feel his avatar beginning to slow as a little yellow bar on his hud began to disappear rapidly. The green skinned creatures themselves had gotten far enough ahead that they could no longer pelt him with rocks, and had instead turned to making unpleasant gestures at him and laughing wickedly among themselves. The man grimaced, until his face turned to a grin as he noticed that they were coming upon rocky river rapids. With none of the lot of hooligans paying attention to the river ahead of them they were none the wiser until it was too late and the craft crashed upon the rocks. The raft was unable to keep form from even the minor blow and began to splinter, with several of the creatures falling into the river while others held onto the barrels containing his loot. In a panic, most of the creatures scrambled to the shore on the other side of the river. The man with the blue bandanna spat before jumping into the water and forcing himself through the tough torrents of water. When he emerged, he could see that five of the creatures had gotten quite a head start on him and were running with an assortment of his items plundered from the barrels before they had been abandoned. The goblins themselves soon raced past a group of women chatting near the river, ignoring them as they passed beyond yelling out shrill language in a strange tongue at them. The man would follow several moments later, panting as he barreled past the pair of women before being forced to stop and catch his breath only a few feet in front of them.
“Oh! I reckon you’re onto something there.” Camille responded, straightening up with a sheepish grin and extending her fingers towards the woman’s outstretched hand. Her mother would have been ashamed to see her acting so ugly. She’d allowed Izavelle’s gesture to linger unreciprocated for much longer than was polite. “If that’s the case, than I sure am glad to meet you too. I could use a friend.” It was hard to judge how people would react in such a strange environment. Any sudden movements on her new friend’s part might have resulted in an involuntary flinch from the raven haired artist but so far the brunette had shown no signs of deceit, something for which Camille was extremely grateful. A series of whoops and hollers echoed up from the river, causing Camille to glance around. Her jaw dropped as a crowd of devilish creatures came tottering through the underbrush, an assortment of loot held aloft over their awkward little bodies. The new player stood dumbstruck as they ran past, only remembering herself as the man following after the thieves stopped to catch his breath. “Are you alright, Sir?” She asked, stepping forward to place a hand on his shoulder before hesitating. He looked like a swashbuckler and the blade at his side was a sure sign of danger. Even so, she admired his tenacity in chasing the little scamps as far as he had and she wasn’t one to turn a blind eye to someone in need of help. “Those things got all your stuff...” tag: @Izavelle Rocherre @Zakari Amaretto <3
