In Search for the Light (Open)

[Akagi]

The light is blinding. The sun shines bright in all its glorious, but Crimson hates it. It burns him, inside and outside. Physically and emotionally. He's tired of that artificial sun, tired of having to see the same scenery, tired of seeing the sullen looks on players on the street.

He is getting tired of this game, of his life, the never ending cycle of pain and despair.

Crimson wander aimlessly on the streets of Town of Beginning, having no proper destination in his mind. His long hair disheveled, his clothes in a tattered mess and dirty from all the tripping and falling. He feel tired and heavy, the lack of sleep does not make his condition any better. Although he is not hungry or thirsty, the lack of food for him to eat makes it even worse for him. 

But that does not matter anymore. He give up on everything. Even breathing the air right now is torturing. His lifeless air of eyes reflects the emptiness of his heart, his lacks of soul. The will inside him have long gone, added with him trapped inside this world and he is no longer 'living'. Like a living dead, he would continue walking on this street for the days to come.

Suddenly it strikes him.

It would be better to just end everything, right now.

The sound of Death calling to him, it is a soothing melody. It is tempting, it beckons him towards Death. A sweet, beautiful harmony that lures him towards eternal bliss, free of suffering.

"Ah....I should have just done so in the first place...True freedom does not exist in this life...."

"But in Death, in the eternal embraces of Darkness shall I find true peace to this eternal damnation called life and reality."

Crimson walks, in trance, this time having one destination.

The edge of town, where he can 'fly' towards his 'freedom'.

[Scheherazade]

"My faith is seared into my skin; burned into my worldly flesh with ink as a reminder that I can never give it up. It is a burden that is worth nothing and everything. It is my pain." ☒ Akagi ✐ 000 ✉ Jumping in. Scheherazade Lv1

Scheherazade let her fingers drop to her sides as she entered the town, a little tug at her skin alerting her that she had entered a safe zone. It was familiar and comforting, and she relaxed minutely, her lilac eyes scanning over the vicinity. It was a warm and sunny evening, as the days were inclined to be in Sword Art Online, and the familiarity of it all made her smile slightly, a twitch of her lips that made the blonde startle slightly before relaxing further with a self-depreciating hum. She walks through the streets, her boots clicking against the cobblestone, when she spots a river of worn hair, dirty and messy. The sight startles her, the sight of poverty expected on the second floor, but not the first. She makes to approach the player, and she can feel the gentle weight of her braided hair touch her back. Her hand goes out slowly to lightly touch the player's shoulder, but before she makes contact, she hears a mutter that makes her slow. Her eyes widen slightly as she listens to this...male player. "Ah....I should have just done so in the first place...True freedom does not exist in this life....But in Death, in the eternal embraces of Darkness shall I find true peace to this eternal damnation called life and reality." "Are you...alright?" Scheherazade asks, her voice a soft contralto. She gently touches his arm, and hopes he doesn't startle. The blonde brushes her own locks of hair back, which have strayed from her braid, and knows that she doesn't look frightening-at least, she hopes not. Scheherazade tilts her head and lets her hair drop over one eye, ignoring the loss of her sight there. This player is green, and so she hopes that he will not hurt her. She clears her throat lightly, unsure of what to say next. Her fingers tap against her pale skin, a rhythm that calms her. The blonde looks on, concerned, gaze light. She can't help but feel as if something is off, but she merely dismisses it to the odd statements. She doesn't want this person to die. She doesn't want anyone to die. But that's...out of her hands. If they want to die, she can't stop them. It's their life, their wish, not hers. But Scheherazade can't help but feel that she's responsible for this. It's selfish, but even if the person dies anyways, but by just asking this one question, she can alleviate some of that guilt. It's selfish. She knows. But Scheherazade's always been a selfish person, and it doesn't mean that her concern is any less genuine. Naive, she might have been called by another. She internally smiles at the thought, bittersweet and wistful. Perhaps.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG

[Akagi]

It felt like an eternity has passed since he had any contact with someone. Just the mere sight of him would scare people, the state he is in would make people question his sanity. Like a beggar he looks, or much more worse than that. Alas, he prefers it that way; this solitude is peaceful. He could just disappear without any trace, without troubling anyone.

That's why...

"Are you....alright?"

The sudden, gentle touch on his arm sends him into confusion, the smooth voice wakes him up from his trance. The thought of someone approaching him is not possible. And yet, it happen. Why would someone trouble themselves to talk with this soulless person? Slowly he face backward to meet this person. 

The lilac-blue eyes looks straight at him; if one were to focus they could see themselves reflected in those eyes. The long, blonde, braided hair sways gently as she brushes it; the big, blue ribbon kept her braid in order. Her expression shows worries and sympathy over someone.

Could she be sympathizing him? Worried about him? Why would she shows concerns about this stranger? He would rather walk away and be done with her, as he would like some peace. Besides, he never met her before and does not have to answer her questions.

And yet...

"I....I'm not alright...I'm tired, of this world. Why should I suffer this bad? Can't I live like a normal boy, to run free with his friends? To laugh with them? In that real world? Why can't I have that simple wish?"

The words flow out from his mouth, voicing dissatisfaction. It surprised him as to how he just decided to talk to her. Why would he complain to a stranger? Was he feeling alone? Does he crave for attention? Was he waiting for someone to hear him out?

"Tell me, why should I bear this large responsibility at such a young age? Why am I FORCED to learn so much thing, even if there is no chance for me to used them? Lead my siblings? Become a great example to them? WHY CAN'T MY PARENTS JUST DO THAT STUFF BY THEMSELVES?! I just...I just want to....

Crimson keep his face down and stare at the cobblestones. After that sudden outburst he does not have the strength to show her his face. He almost cry, no doubt his face looks ugly now. He is ashamed of himself, to lash out on someone who worries about him. He returns that kindness of her with an undeserved ramblings of a child.

The passersby were startled by his sudden shout and would glance at their direction once in a while. There is no doubt that he had attracted some unwanted attentions. The whole ordeal is one big mess.

And it was his fault for doing so.

[Scheherazade]

"My faith is seared into my skin; burned into my worldly flesh with ink as a reminder that I can never give it up. It is a burden that is worth nothing and everything. It is my pain." ☒ Akagi ✐ 000 ✉ Ooo, time to talk. Scheherazade Lv1

The blonde's eyes softened minutely once she understood, or at least had a vague idea of what was happening. Tired of the world, of suffering, wanting to have a normal life...to have responsibility, to be perfect, to be a perfect child. People looked at them strangely, but Scheherazade disregarded that fact, and merely blinked at him. She could relate to that. The green player hesitated before bringing the boy over to a empty chair and table, pulling out a chair for both of them. There was no point in getting worked up. She recounted his words quietly in her had, and then closed her eyes, thinking. What could she say? Pity, empathy, sympathy, care, concern...those emotions swirled within her, an aching, jumbling mess of emotions. She didn't know what could drive this boy to want his death, but she had...she had once wanted such a thing herself, or wanted to make herself believe that she did. Her fingers shake inside of her lap, and Scheherazade can feel the cold prickle of fear drip down her skin. Her throat closes up. Is she really going to do this? She closes her eyes for a second and opens them in a languid blink, trying to calm her uneasiness. Scheherazade has never been calm around the topic of suffering. She doesn't know what to do. She watches other people collapse and die inside and rot away, piece by piece of their soul, a process she thinks she might have undergone, once. She can pretend that she understands a situation that's too abstract for her to understand, can share her story and make them feel sympathy for her instead of the other way around. Scheherazade, for the umpteenth time in her life, feels lost. She doesn't know what to say. Her eyes are soft and warm as always, but her mind is racing behind her mask of impenetrable steel that even her mother would be hard-pressed to see through. She wonders, idly, when she became so cold, so detached. She pulls her dark cloak more firmly around her shoulders, a cape-like thing with a silver clasp at the middle. It's simple, almost outrageously so, and she absently studies the pattern as she allows the other to retain their dignity and composure. She's left with so many questions that she doesn't want to answer. Her blonde hair hangs like a rope behind her, smooth and silky, and she finds herself taking out a warm, damp cloth that she hands over to the other. "Here," She says gently, but she doesn't let pity slip into her tone. That would be rude. She closes her mouth and doesn't say anything else, allowing them to clean their face and their hair to the best of their ability with such limited supplies if they wish. Her lilac eyes are still open, and she watches the other with a quiet empathy. She thinks about the other's questions and decides not to speak. She simply quiets and waits for the other to continue on. She has no doubt the male will do so. The mood is quiet and subdued, and she offers nothing but a warm, quiet smile tinged with a bittersweet melancholy and a warm listening ear. That should be all he needs. There's nothing else she can offer, anyways. Scheherazade can acknowledge that truth.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG

[Akagi]

Crimson stand there motionlessly, waiting for some sort of reaction from the girl. What would she do after hearing his story? Would she feel repulsive? Disgusted? Would she hates his guts after getting shout at by some random stranger who she have no connection with? If she would hit him and then leaves, that would be fine. In fact he deserves so. 

However, his expectation went way out of mark; what awaits him was not a slap, but instead he was guided to  near table and chair that is empty. Questions filled his head as to why she acts so. Does she not feel anything after what he had done to her? Crimson would look at the girl, trying to judge her expression as she offers the seat while she takes one. He did the same, making sure he didn't sit on his long hair. He continues staring her for several second, but he could not read her expression well. That kind face of her was all the expression she make from the beginning.

He turn his gaze on the cobblestone instead. He was unsure as to what he would do next. Here they are, sharing a table and yet not a single word have been said. He looks to the players around them; the crowd that gathered just now had already dispersed. It was as if the event that occurred just now had never happen. They would carry on with their business, not interested with the charade of his. That did not bother him though, it was a true fact that what he had done just now does not need any warrant for attention. It would be for their best to just walk away, and that is what she would expected from that girl. 

But she did not do that. She listen to him. Someone actually listened to him, for once. To top it off, it was a stranger who done so. He would cry, no, he already cried but he hold back his tears. A crying man would be the last thing people would want to see. 

"Here."

The party in question hands him a damp cloth, as gentle as she can. Unsure of what to do, he accepted it after hesitating for several seconds. Realizing the reason as to why she hands him the cloth, he proceeded to wipe his face thoroughly to remove any dirt and smudges. To hold a conversation while having one's face dirty can be seen as an act of insulting the other party. He would have to let his hair in disheveled though because the cloth would not be enough to clean it.

After having done cleaning himself, he folds the cloth neatly and place it on his lap. Head still down, he does not have the strength to meet her gaze directly after all that shouting. He choose to let himself to sink into is own thoughts for a little.

As he had finally calm down, he could actually think clearly for once, something he had difficulty to do so when he arrived at this world. The silence between them is getting uncomfortable tough, no doubt about it. It was the first thing he realize after regaining his thought processes.

He took a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He could not let this silence to continue so. Therefore...

"I...I hate my life. From the moment I was forced to learn so many things until the day I trapped inside this game it has been nothing but sufferings for me. I would see the same scenery every, single, day as I walk to the school, it replays like a broken tape. Going out is something that I was not allowed to. I would be sitting through lessons from expensive tutors on things that I really would not care about. Where do we get all the money to hire these people in the first place? Our household is just an average one, and my father is the only person to work, and yet his income is average too. Why would they go through such length to do something that I have never asked for? Are they redeeming themselves for the mistakes of their past? Are they pursuing perfection through their children?"

"I suffer through all that, but I would still go on. I would continue living like that, but not because I'm doing it for them. It was for my siblings. If I were to fall along the way, they would replace my spot and would suffer the same thing that I have been through. That is the one thing I would not allow myself to see. If they were to taste that kind of life, their smiles would disappear just lie that. It's the only thing that have kept me going."

"But now that I am trapped inside here, there would be no one to protect them. I could no longer see their smiles. I don't even have the strength to fight a mob, let alone the entirety of 100 floor. I don't want to live through, I had enough of everything...It would be better for me to...."

"It's only fair. I lost my Light after all. Two Lights to be exact...It's a shame but...what I wouldn't do to see them one last time..."

After he finished rambling he lets out a sigh.  For some reason his chest feels lighter after having spilled it all out. He wonder how long have he been holding it in. It does not matter, for now he just wait for the other party.

[Scheherazade]

"My faith is seared into my skin; burned into my worldly flesh with ink as a reminder that I can never give it up. It is a burden that is worth nothing and everything. It is my pain." ☒ Akagi ✐ 000 ✉ Don't hate me~ *hides* >.> -10 COL FOR THE TEA Scheherazade Lv1

"I...I could say a lot of things, I think." Scheherazade sounds the words in her head before uttering them. They slip out of her lips as she thinks, as natural as a clear stream running through river-smooth rocks, sparkling in the sunlight. "I could say that your parents are trying so hard because they want you to have an easier life then they did. That you should be grateful. That they're only working so hard because they love you and that you should be so more thankful for what they've done. Because they've done a lot. It sounds like they have." "But that's what you know, right? All too well. Have you heard those words rephrased throughout your life daily? Heard them echo inside of your head, talking about how you should be ashamed, the way you throw away their efforts? Because...you know. You know that they do so much for you. You know that you should be so more grateful then you are. You know. There's no need to tell you. But you also know...that you're greedy. That everyone is, and why should you be different?" "It's my guess. I'm being presumptuous, I suppose, and rude beyond compare. I'm butting my nose in where I don't belong, pretending that I understand when I might really not. I'm sorry for that. But...you want to have friends, stop studying, stop trying so hard and actually take a break. You want to fit in and laugh with your friends, to actually have friends, to let down your perfect exterior. Because you're not perfect and you know that. No one is. So why, you might reflect, do you try so hard?" "It stings. It stings so much, when someone laughs about how you're naturally smart or good at something when you've tried so hard. How they disregard your efforts, the time and sweat and blood and tears that you've poured into it. The way that you would do things until your mind ached and your soul was hollow. How they whine about their issues, which seem so petty. How you hate yourself because you're complaining while people starve and die from sickness and murder and selfishness and pure chance." "I'm projecting, I suppose," She says quietly, staring into her teacup, where lemon tea stares impassively back. Scheherazade had ordered tea for the both of them and paid already, and she set down the cup and watched the liquid ripple quietly, unsure of what to say. She had already imposed enough. "And I apologize again for that. Because it's not my business." She inclines her head in a slight-half bow movement, and her cheeks pink with shame. But then she presses on. "I suppose...it's only fair to let you listen to my story, then. If you don't mind." She glances over at the other, and then guesses it's okay from his expression. The green player stares at her tea. She shouldn't feel obligated to speak, but she does. It weighs her down like a literal burden, and then, she couldn't take it anymore. So she began to speak. She tells the story, and it bubbles out of her lips, taking a path that makes her sound as if her words carry weight, are backed up by power within each vowel. "My parents were linked to old nobles in Cairo. Pharaoh's blood, my father called it. I was actually the second child of my family. I had an older brother, but he died of a neonatal death. That means he died during the first 28 days of his life." She stirred her tea absently, letting the cream swirl within as she raised it to her lips. "I lived my first year in Egypt, until my mother begged my father to bring her back to Sweden, her homeland, since she couldn't bear to deal with the memories of my brother. They moved, and I was homeschooled until I was old enough to go to school. My parents wanted me to have an early start. From then on, I was enrolled in a private all-girl's school." "When I was nine," She said softly, her words dropping to a low whisper, hair falling into her eyes as her hands began to shake around the china handle of her teacup, the warm liquid almost spilling over the sides, "I confessed to a girl who was one year older than me. I'm Muslim. She was the oldest girl of a Christan family. She started screaming at me. She told me that I was going to rot in Hell, that I was a demon, that my father was going to stone me to death because I was gay." She sips her tea, hand shaking. It's the only sign of distress she has. "The girl-the one I had confessed to-she was popular. She had told everyone about my bisexuality. Well, they thought I was homosexual at the time. I didn't tell my parents. I started having panic attacks. I took up smoking, got a tattoo, went to parties and drank until I threw up and my insides turned into ash." She sips her tea again and blocks out the memories. Her mind is blissfully blank. She could be talking about anything-the weather, sports, literature. It feels like watching a movie, like that wasn't her life. She pours herself another cup of tea and stirs more cream inside. "I brought a girl home one day. Well, not on purpose," She said solemnly, her voice a low monotone as she spoke. Her form was detached, and her voice was distant, as if her mind were on a different topic altogether. "It's funny. I don't remember her name, just stumbling home, and then my mother and father were at home, which they weren't supposed to be. I remember my father screaming, me breaking into a panic attack, alarms, my mother crying-I can remember that, but not her name. Kind of sad, isn't it?" "And then...it was over. My mom and dad didn't do anything. And then...my father kept on trying to make me perfect. I loved dance-it was my life. He made me quit, checked up on my health, made me do check-ups every half hour. I must have joined like ten clubs, gotten amazing grades, sat down every day to study straight for three hours and then ran, did self-defense, learned how to cook, sew, studied some more, helped my mom, did my homework, did some more sports...but the funny thing was, I was still bullied, no matter what I did." "Bullied. It's a funny word. I always thought it would mean death or something. But I didn't die. I was slammed into lockers, my textbooks were stolen and probably burned, I was thrown to the ground and hit with doors, slurs were said to my face and behind my back, and some teachers even turned a blind eye. Because of my religion, maybe, and then my homosexuality. It's my fault, I must admit. I made myself up to be a hero. But I'm not. I glorified things." "And then, my grades began to drop because of that. My father was scared. He recited passages from the Qu'ran all day, and then he turned to something else. In his family, when you caned someone, it was because you cared about them and didn't want them to err. So he caned me more the worse I got, and the worse I got, the more I was teased. A poisonous cycle, maybe. And then...I ran away. To university. I was a coward. I knew I could never set foot back in Sweden, because I didn't feel safe there. Facing my fears sounded like a crazy dream." "I went to school in England. And then I was accepted for the beta test. I was part of a guild-Angel's Requiem. I thought...I could be accepted. Because no one knew who I was. I was an unknown. And I liked it that way. And then...I fell in love with a NPC. I'm not very clever, you know. I knew she was just a program. She was designed to pull at our heartstrings. A tragic heroine. I could have fooled myself into thinking that she was real. And then...she died in front of my eyes. Because of a monster event. One casualty out of a hundred. She should have respawned. But she didn't. And that leads up to now." "I'm sorry I put all of that on you," She said quietly, setting down her cup. Once she's gotten everything out of her, she just feels empty. Like there's nothing left inside of her. "It was not in my place. And I never even gave you my name. Um, Scheherazade. If you want, I'll leave now. I didn't mean to be rude." She stands, setting down her empty teacup.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG

[Akagi]

His story did not hold a candle to her story. He feel small, terrible, miserable, and angry all at the same time. His eyes wet, tears flow alongside his cheek and fall into the cup of tea, forming ripples on its surface. He wants to punch himself right here, right there, in front of the public without any care of himself. What a weak person he was, and he did not realize it all this time. Shame on him, to rely on a stranger to make him realize that fact.

"N-no..it's fine. You can stay, and you are not being rude. -sniff- My name is Crimson...nice to..-sniff- meet you."

Scheherazade, such is the name of the girl. Her lilac-blue eyes were gentle, yet it hides sadness. Her gentle, kind expression hides her true emotion. She is strong, way out his league. Crimson, one who escape to this world, and Akagi, one who tries to escape that world. Both of them runs away. But from what? They hate their life, hates the very concept of reality because they were 'suffering'. But was it truly that case? Are they blind to the truth of this reality they were having? If so, then what are they truly running away from? They were coward, Akagi and Crimson. However the things they went through, in truth, was just a small matter. It was small, but it was enough to make them fall into the false reality that they perceive. And so they become a coward because of that false reality.

Akagi created Crimson to run away from that reality. Crimson fulfill that desires of his. But it was just a misunderstanding of theirs, their greed, their selfishness. They were chasing a false freedom, and for that they run. And so they receive their punishment; to be jailed, to spend their live in this game. 

Crimson eyes went wide. The fog in his mind slowly disappear but not straight away. He still had his doubt, but if he were to reason with himself, to think of his situation thoroughly he can clear it up within time. Slowly he will do that, as time is the luxury he had in this world, even if it come with the price of lingering, cold embrace of death. If he were to slowly reach out to the truth there will be no doubt that he could reach to a better conclusion of his life.

He still need to recover himself, he was still shaken from hearing her story. He lament and wails, he truly thought that he was having it worse. But even then his situations was better than this girl. He wipes the tears off his face and drinks the tea; the hotness of the tea provide warmth to his body. He put the cup down. Doing so brings up a buried memory he once it was a lesson he had received regarding table manners during school holidays. He smiles, the lessons were tough but it was not a bad experience as he got to taste all sorts of tea. Darjeeling was his favorite, and he would look forward to it whenever his tutor promised him to bring that tea. Crimson breaths calmly as he organized his brain and finally open his mouth.

"Thank you, Scheherazade. At the same time, I'm sorry because of my sudden outburst just now as well forcing you to listen to my story. What you said is true. There must be reason as to why my parents make me learn all that stuff. I would not straight away accept that fact because I still have my doubts, but I will think it through. I must say though, I could only understand half of your story because I did not experience such thing before and I do not think I wanted to. But what you went through, after hearing it all, is even heavier burden to carry than mine. I don't have the rights to pity nor sympathies with your story because that will be insulting you. How I act like brat all this time, cursing and blaming my fate because while I haven't realize the true face of reality itself; there were people out there who suffers more than me. No, I think I realized so but I turn away from it."

"But even then, I do not think I could make it through this game. I lack the strength, the conviction to break free from this game, from Kayaba's hold. How foolish of me, I finally grasp the truth, but it seems that I was too late. Haha...I think I have to apologize to my ancestors once I reach them."

Crimson lets out a small laugh. A dry and sad one. He thinks back to his sisters at now. By now, they must have found that Crimson played this game. The sad face of theirs stabs through his heart, it pierces him so hard he clench his chest around that area. That painful feeling of making them sad in his last moment was the deepest regret he had.

"Haha, sorry...just thinking of my sisters makes my heart ache. I wonder if they can take care of themselves once their brother gone..."

[Scheherazade]

"My faith is seared into my skin; burned into my worldly flesh with ink as a reminder that I can never give it up. It is a burden that is worth nothing and everything. It is my pain." ☒ Akagi ✐ 000 ✉ Inspirational Pep Talk 101 -10 Col for the wafer cookies s Scheherazade Lv1

Scheherazade startled at the sound of his tears, and her eyes widened slightly before she subtly averted her eyes, allowing him to retain his dignity. "You don't...have to pity me. It doesn't feel real, not really. It feels like...I'm watching a movie. Like I'm in a game." She smiled wryly, her expression tinged with bittersweet nostalgia. "Ironic, isn't it?" And then he began to talk and apologize. Something tugged at her heart. The blonde sat back down, the folds of her skirt rustling quietly as she did so, thinking solemnly about how to respond before she did so. There's a lot she wants to say. "I forced you to listen to my story as well. But...I don't want you to think that my life is sadder. Sadness is sadness. I...I choose to pity myself. I am weak like that; cowardly, even. Perhaps I even told you my life story because I...because I wanted to make you feel guilty. Because I wanted your sympathy. Because I wanted to destroy your confidence and make myself feel better in return. That is my weakness. It is a truth. I can never improve it, because I have acknowledged it is the truth of my soul." "And what a sad soul it is," She murmured quietly into her tea, pouring them both another cup as she then methodically selected the cream pitcher and stirred some in, clouding the color as she lifted it to her lips, listening to him talk about the strength that he lacked, the empty space where conviction should have lain. She could relate, and a small fire of spirit bubbled up in her, something that she usually didn't have in her reserved, solemn state. Her eyes flashed silver before reverting to their normal state. "I...I also lack the conviction and strength. Oh," She laughed dryly, the sound warm and low, ironic and bubbling up in her. It's light and airy, but she doesn't much care for laughter. How could you, when you never had someone to laugh with in the first place? "I don't care much for sympathy. It's always there, you know." She smiled down softly, her lips upturned in a slightly with a nostalgic air. "Wherever you go. Maybe that's just me, but sometimes, when you're sad and you acknowledge it, and someone is there to reassure you, I feel like...it's just because they don't want to acknowledge the fact that some suffering is too great to be alleviated." "But there I go again, being all depressing..." Scheherazade's head tilted before she realized where she was, eyes lighting up softly as she sipped her tea, patting her lips delicately with the white cloth napkin provided by the outdoor cafe that she had stolen a table from without even noticing. "But where was I? Right...conviction and strength. Yes, I lack that...no matter what everyone else says. Why am I here, again? To find a lost love?" Her lips twisted into something rueful, but she merely took a wafer cookie from the plate in front of them, biting into it softly before she patted her lips again, wiping off any crumbs. "I'm hiding, out of cowardice or something else. Who knows? I've been trying, though-or I've begun. It's a feeling of lingering fear, I think. So far, I've only run away from my problems. Maybe it's time I face them." She paused before giggling sweetly, the unexpected laughter making her eyes widen, eyelashes separating from their slight tangle as she did so, cheeks flushing pink. "I'm sorry. But what I just said...it sounds sort of cliche, doesn't it? But bear with me." She focused back onto her tea, and then ran her fingers over the china. "I lack conviction and I lack strength," She repeated, letting the truth of the words seep into her skin, reminding her of her weakness. Her eyes turned soft. "But that means that I can improve. Without this, I cannot improve. And I...I think that is sad. Because I can improve and I will. I will find my strength. That is my conviction. It is weak. It is based on sheer nothingness. I am not thinking ahead." "But that is my freedom, perhaps," She murmurs, lost in a world not her own, eyes distant as she tucks a long lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Her lilac eyes shut for a fraction of a second in a slow blink, eyelashes glinting in the warm light. "The ability to recklessly create and not think about the consequences. And there will be consequences. But...Inshaa Allah kheyr. God willing, good will come out of it." And then he spoke of his sisters. She merely smiled again and sipped at her tea, reaching for another thin cookie, the delicate wafer design slipping past her lips.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG

[Akagi]

Crimson took a deep breath once more. He lost count of how many times he had done that in the past few minutes, not that he care of it. It helps him, emotionally speaking. Sharing stories like this, to tell of their bitter past, it was a hard thing to do. Scars, ugly memories, painful wound that they get from what they have gone through that were concealed deep inside resurface once more. This breathing routine he had learned helps him at times like this. He could not act tough; he does not want to act so, at least, not now. They were two souls who try to find salvation in their action, and still try to search for it. Although they have different definition to their salvation and their freedom, they could still open up to each other. And so they could not understand each other’s suffering, but they do not have to. Sympathy and pity was not what they were looking for, it was comfort in becoming their true selves with the people around them. That was the conclusion he reached to after hearing her story, after sharing his own.

He relaxes his grip on his cloth and tidies it up, the mere thoughts of his sisters suffering would often throw him into a state of panic. If he had time to worry about them, that means he had time to find a way to actually reach them once more. And to do that he must…

It was thanks to Scheherazade; she open up his eyes. Doubts, still lingering in his head do not affect him so much right now. The path he once saw, the one he thought was filled with darkness and thick fog, and with him in the middle of it all, was now pierced with one ray of light. It shows him the way forward, the way out of his so called ‘suffering’. All he need right now is the strength, to move forward, to follow the guidance of that light. There should be no problem for that though, as his source of strength, coincidentally, was the same thing as what he wanted to protect.

But that would be enough about him for now. He might feel better, does not feeling suicidal right now. The girl in front of him right now is suffering. He racks his brain, thinking of what to say. All his lessons on English language would not be enough to properly convey what he was about to said next. However, to stay quiet would imply that he actually does not care of her feeling. No, he could not let that happen. At times like this he wished that he was born with English as his mother tongue.

Might as well say what was in his mind.

“I do not blame you for sharing your story. It was the opposite actually I’m glad that you would tell me of your past, even if it is painful for you. I do not mind if you find comfort in making me feel guilty about your story in truth, I do feel so. I feel guilty of acting like a spoiled child and tell you of my problem when in truth you suffered even more. Hearing your story, I could not do anything, I could not even sympathized or feel pity of you. That seems heartless of me.”

That is why, if you were to find comfort in making me feel guilty about your story, then I do not mind. Because that is the only thing I could do for you. I would not hate you, and I do not think I ever will.”

“We both lack conviction and strength that is true. But if that were to be the truth, then why are we still here? There must be a reason, deep within our heart. It was there all along, it just up to us to find it and make it ours. It was thanks to you I manage to discover it. However, obtaining that strength and making it my own seems to be a hard thing to do. Ah, but do not worry, I think I could handle it as long as I stay sane…and I don’t feel the urge to jump off the edge again.”

“And what you said is true. It’s time to face our problem. No more running away from our past. Your lack of strength and conviction helps you improve further and I think that there is truth in doing so. For me, my lack of conviction and strength will push me forward from now, as I try to find them. Who knows, maybe at the end of this all I would finally be able to gain my true freedom? I guess it’s up to me to see through that.”

Crimson stirs his tea with the silver spoon of intricate, flower design. The aroma of the tea stimulates his hunger, and so he would reach out for the wafer. Savoring its flavor, it was a small moment of happiness as the sweet taste of that baked goods lingers in his mouth.

“Although I must ask you a question and I might look like a fool for this but…what does cliché mean? I do not think that I have heard of that term before in.”

[Scheherazade]

"My faith is seared into my skin; burned into my worldly flesh with ink as a reminder that I can never give it up. It is a burden that is worth nothing and everything. It is my pain." ☒ Akagi ✐ 000 ✉ Happy stuff now, okay? s Scheherazade Lv1

Scheherazade blinked slowly, and then she let out one of her rarer smiles, not one simply of goodwill, but something brimming with infectious cheer and pure, untainted happiness, wide and curving, slipping on her lips like a well-worn sweater. It disappears, but she can feel the effects of it, and it makes her skin tingle and eyes sparkle from temporary radiance. Maybe she shouldn't be so thrilled, but she is, and that-well, that's that. The blond sips at her tea again, and then notices with some alarm that her braid is falling apart. She pauses to respond about his comment, the one about not wanting to jump anymore, the very statement she had smiled at. "I'm glad," She states softly, before ducking her head down and beginning to undo the ribbon that holds her braid. She tugs at it softly, and the blue satin unfurls onto her hand, but her braid is still somewhat in place. The green player has to unweave her hair, carefully pulling each section apart. It's a slow process. The young woman then began doing a thinner braid than before, leaving sections of her hair purposely out, mostly on the sides, and then finished up her thinner braid. Using the sections of the hair that she didn't braid, she carefully twisted it around the braid, creating a curl-like effect. A lobster tail braid. She had done this primarily at home in the real world, a casual, pretty hairstyle that her mother said looked nice on her. She tied it off with a simple knot with her ribbon, and then looked up in time to catch the brunet's last statements. Her eyes widened in understanding, and then she gave a small nod as she carefully picked up her china cup, the handle delicate in her grip as she gifted him with another small smile. "I understand. My native languages are actually Arabic and Swedish, but I had learned English when I moved to England for my university." "Cliche...in the terms that I used, it would be stereotypical. Like I was some overdone character in a superhero movie or something. It feels like that, now. Like we're supposed to be these heroes. I tend to glorify things...but it feels like that, sometimes. We're not ordinary people anymore, I don't think. We're one out of ten thousand. We're supposed to be heroes now, saving people and fighting and getting stronger. Feels odd, doesn't it? Something different." She takes another cookie carefully, letting the thin crisp break against her teeth, and then finishes it off delicately. There's a companionable silence that she enjoys before a thought strikes her, and she merely hums internally and wipes her fingers off on her napkin, before swiping down with her hand midair with two fingers, and then sideways, until she finally reaches her friend menu. There's a couple of familiar names there-Starlight, Angelo, Rue, and so on. She opens up yet another menu, and then swipes some more, the movements coming easily to her. It's never been that different from the beta game in terms of controls, so she's now mastered the skill of doing the actions without looking or thinking about the buttons she's lightly touching. With a quick swipe of her hand, the blonde sends a friend request to Crimson, and then makes to pull her hand away. She pauses, suddenly. Her attention's been caught by the log out button, which's colored dark gray, meaning that it's broken, she supposes. She sends it one last lingering glance before swiping up, closing up the entire menu and returning to her tea.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG

[Akagi]

The smile she had on her face, out of pure joy and happiness as he talks kind of refreshing to look at. For their subject that they treaded upon generally not one would discuss in their daily conversation. Seeing that smile, he could not help but to smile along with her. After having to face the announcement made by yours truthfully, he could finally smile a genuine smile. He could not thank Scheherazade enough for that, although it could be embarrassing to say that to her, at least, to say it directly.

Voicing her gladness over him not thinking of jumping, Crimson could not help but smile once more. Indeed, he falls to temptation too easily. Too shaken and confused at what to do, he chooses to opt for the easy way out of his predicament without thinking of the consequences. His ancestors on the land beyond would not be pleased to meet him if he choose to do so, and instead he would wander the place as a lost soul, searching for nirvana forever to not found it. The mere thoughts send him shivering. He shakes his head, dismissing that negative thoughts of him. His hair sways left and right, following the motion of his head.

The gentle sway of his hair reminds him of his own condition. For the past few days, after that massive, shocking news yours truly deliver he did not take care of his own wellbeing. He did not have the time or energy to think about himself, physically. A quick check reveals that he needs some time to actually tidy himself up. As someone who learned the well importance of taking care of ones appearances in public, the urge to take care of his physical aspect gnaws on him. Despite that, he endured; he could always do that after this.

While he busy contemplating his own wellbeing, the girl takes her time redoing her braid. Skillfully she does it, taking the utmost attention on smallest detail. Her silky smooth hair would attract the attention of any male player. Just a glance on the passersby proves his fact; some of them actually stop on the roadside, enjoying the sights their seeing while getting yelled at by the person behind them who looks busy preparing them. Crimson chuckles a little, covering his mouth with his left hand to hold himself from laughing out loud at the spectacles. She changes her hairstyle a little after finish redoing her hair; a braided hair with somewhat different style. He had no idea what kind of style she had chosen, but it suits her look better.

Quickly he pays attention to her once she begin her talk, taking care that she did not notice he had been eyeing her for a while. She begin explaining in full details of what cliché means, providing example of the word In some context at the same time so that he could fully understand the usage of that word.

“So you’re saying that we are saving people because we have become somewhat heroes in this game…huh. I guess if we manage to fight our way to the uppermost floor then we will, ultimately, bring freedom to all the players inside here. Even if we have our own personal agenda when we fight, we could not help but save people that way… If that is true, then we are superheroes in this game, especially those who fight in front.”

“Excuse me.” Crimson take the handle of the teapot and lift it up with his right hand and carefully brings it over to his cup. Then, while his left hand on top of the cover he slowly fills his teacup, making sure he did not spill the content. The vapor from the tea rise up, just like the real thing. Crimson impress, yours truly sure goes all out, fully utilizing his intelligence in making this game as close to realism as possible. After filling his cup, half full, he returns the teapot to its respective place.

He enjoys the aroma once more before sipping the tea once more. The warmth of the liquid truly is enjoyable. He caught sight of Scheherazade swiping her hand midair and skillfully does so for a few times. No doubt that she used the menu, and seeing that she had done it with no hesitation in her movement indicates that she must have been used to it. The story of her being a player before the official release of SAO can truly be seen from this simple actions of her. Perhaps the term ‘Beta-Tester’ fits this group of player here. A notification appears midair once she finished doing whatever she had intended to.

‘Friend request: Accept? Yes/No’

If he could jump, he would do so. But as someone who has been educated, a proper gentleman, Japanese who upholds integrity, he would not act so. Nope. Having his first friend makes him happy but he would not act unrefined as it is not proper for him to do so. Nope. With his right hand, he touches the yes button with a finger and confirms the request.

“Thank you…You’re my first friend in this world. I...hahaha…I don’t know what to say…I’m too overwhelm. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I will never forget this for the rest of my life.”

Crimson did a full bow; his head almost hit the table. Feeling that words are not enough, he will show his sincerity through his action.

[Scheherazade]

"My faith is seared into my skin; burned into my worldly flesh with ink as a reminder that I can never give it up. It is a burden that is worth nothing and everything. It is my pain." ☒ Akagi ✐ 000 ✉ *embarrassed Sche* O/////O s Scheherazade Lv1

"I...thank you, I suppose." Her eyes widened in surprise, and his head bowing was something truly unexpected. She inclined her head slightly and took his hand, smiling quietly, a smooth, flashing thing. It was one of her ordinary smiles, but she felt flattered nonetheless. It was very kind of him to say so. After they had settled back down, she sipped at her tea, and the world turned on. It was fine, though-she hadn't really expected much different. Her fingers ran over the smooth porcelain, analyzing, thought hidden in her lilac eyes. Her fingers delicately slipped under a curve in the cup. Wedgewood design, delicate flower pattern, golden rim, white base. New, definitely, not an antique. Or was it just the design of the game? Did things never age? But no matter. She carefully examined the rounded scallop-design rim, which had a set of entwined daisies float around there. Clean, flowing lines. She remembered that much from her lessons and chats with her mother, her dark hair against her mother's pale hair. Golden and bronze skin, gently curling over each other. Come to think of it, her mother had taught her how to braid flowers together. A small smile played on her lips at the thought. On those days, it would be spring or fall or summer, and her mother would knock on her bedroom door. Scheherazade would get up and sit quietly at her bedroom vanity while her mother brushed her hair and then plod off to the bathroom. She would emerge from upstairs and her mother would lead her to the small room that they turned into a place to pray, and she would murmur words in Arabic and bend her head down. Her mother would stay in the corner, quietly reading the Bible in her own little section, while Scheherazade finished up and watched the verses of the Bible slip out of the little navy book with the glittering gold font, watching her mother's lips run over the words as tenderly as she imagined her mother would be to her father, holding hands or kissing. Her mother would startle when the clock chimed, and apologize for holding them up. Scheherazade would giggle, and then they would troop downstairs. Her father, a tall, solemn man, with skin as dark as burnt caramel and with secret hidden tones within, a man with golden-amber eyes that shifted in the light from pale gold to liquid fire, would be sipping his tea at the table. Scheherazade would join him, murmuring a quiet prayer with her mother, as she picked up her utensils and ate. And then her mother would bring her to the park after they finished and cleaned up. Privately, it was the best part of her day. Her mother would find a place for them to rest, underneath the branches of a willow tree, by the stream, where daises littered the grass-it didn't matter. Scheherazade's mother had a penchant for picking the most beautiful secluded spots. She would set down her purse and take out her scissors and a cleaned, thin, strong loop of wood, and bend it into crowns that would fit her daughter's head and her own. And then they hunted after flowers. She would tell her daughter about fantastical things. Things about witches, like a faery witch, a beautiful being who sought to find faeries and understand their connection with nature. Witches who freed their souls from flowers and whispered in near silent bell-like languages, ones who became fire and flame themselves and chose to burn others or warm their souls. Witches who weren't evil, but truly sorceresses, proud of their craft and the magical blood that flowed through their veins, pure magic, no matter how diluted others thought it must have been by common humans. Her mother would praise her for her clever weaving, admire the dew-streaked blossoms and smile gently, ghosts of forgotten memories lurking in her eyes. Scheherazade would wait patiently, blinking her dark eyes at her mother, before she startled, the petite woman glancing at her rosy-cheeked child before kissing the crown of her head and placing all their flower crowns onto her head, stacking them one by one, biggest on the outside, like a floral version of Russian dolls. Scheherazade blinked, bringing her out of her reverie as she poured herself another cup of tea, the pretty liquid filling her cup as she poured it, hands arranged in a natural fashion, the careful, smooth motions coming to her as easily as water flowing through a river. "Excuse me. I seem to have allowed my thoughts to wander off," She apologized, ducking her head in an apologetic manner to the male.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG

[Akagi]

"True freedom is to liberate yourself from..." ☒ Scheherazade ✐ 000 ✉ Revenge? Crimson could not handle this kind of stuff >.< And yeah, this is embarrassing... Crimson Lv1

Crimson lift his head up after she thanked him. He did not do anything mentionable to actually receive her gratitude. Just as he wanted to express his gratitude once more, Scheherazade bows her head, mimicking his action just now. Her hairs fall to the side now, hanging in the air for several seconds before she lifts her head once more. “You do not need to actually bow…I’m the only one who should be doing that for you kindness…” After he said that, she hold his hand instead, her head slightly inclined. Flustered, flabbergasted, speechless, nervous, shy, lost, confuse, his brain went into a spiral of error as he could not comprehend her action, nor can he think of what to do at that moment. With that gentle smile of her with this soft sensation on his hand, accompanied by her little gesture of her head, his heart beats so fast, it could probably explode on any moment. His face... actually shows no emotion whatsoever, his eyes went blank, staring far into nothingness. Too much stimulation for him, he could not handle such stimulation any longer. Luckily she draws her hand away after a few seconds. Crimson slowly regains the look of his face, although he looks like a fool for a moment there. He drinks his teas in one go, and burn his tongue in the process instead. He closes his eyes, enduring the pain in his mouth. Emptying his cup, he doubts that he could taste any food for the next few days, but he cares not. The tea serves as a temporary reliever for him. His face beet red, his cheeks flush. He could not handle any direct touch from people of opposite gender, and he just found out about this particular weakness of him today. He curse himself for his inexperience in this particular subject, he curse himself for not taking seriously the lessons of social interaction when his parents arranged one. Finally, he curses himself for not being able to calm himself right now, despite him being able to act rational all the time. He rubs his chest with his right hand, especially around the area of his heart. Slowly it regains its normal tempo. Crimson release a small sigh of relieves because she did not hold his hand longer than he could handle. A few more second, and he would no doubt run away from her. He look to his hand; he could still feel the warmth there, a feeling of loneliness around his hand. He feels missing, he would grip his hand twice, trying to make sense of his feelings right now. It’s mysterious; he did not know why he would feel such way. In the end he could only pass it as a ‘trick of his mind’. The loneliness in his heart and the sudden situation he was placed in would force his mind to find a some sort of solution for this problem. Her kindness must have triggered some sort of false emotion, a false solution for him. At least that’s what he thought. He has no idea why he would form that kind of conclusion. Apparently his brain’s a mess right now. Refilling his teacup, he would slowly sip the tea inside. No longer could he enjoy the taste, and he only had himself to blame for that. At least he could enjoy the aroma, but his stomach could never eat ‘smells’ so… He had no choice but to just drink the tea and say nothing about it. The burning pain still lingers around his tongue, which makes him remember that he could actually feel pain in this world, this time it was the result of his reckless action. He shakes his head. Well, this time he could not control his behaviour thanks to the girl in front of him. But it would do him good to actually be careful for every little decision he would take. After all, he only have one life, and so many things that needs to be resolve starting with this game. Dying from food and water would be one thing he would avoid at all cost. Scheherazade voice grabs his attention. He’s been out of it for the several minutes and did not realize himself doing so. Feeling apologetic for letting herself lost in thoughts, she apologize with a polite gesture of ducking her head towards him. “Ah…Umm…No…No need to apologize. I do that kind of thing all the time, in fact I just did so earlier. I’m the one who should apologize.” Crimson follows the same gesture the girl use so that he could truly express his apology. “We could apologize to each other all day if we continue doing this.” Crimson laugh a little. This kind of atmosphere was what he dreamt for, to be able to talk freely with his friends and laugh at little things. Coming to this world would be a blessing in disguise. It looks like there is some hopes for him left. And so he would question himself at that moment. Did he truly regret going to this world?

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG

[Scheherazade]

"My faith is seared into my skin; burned into my worldly flesh with ink as a reminder that I can never give it up. It is a burden that is worth nothing and everything. It is my pain." ☒ Akagi ✐ 000 ✉ *more money is spent* -20 Col s Scheherazade Lv1

Scheherazade giggled as well, noticing that there were others lingering to watch them out of the corner of her vision. She self-consciously looked herself over and her companion, before noticing that her companion didn't clean themselves yet, most likely because of herself. She flushed in self-consciousness before swiping her HUD open with smooth hand movements, checking up on an orange and white option that listed her current Col amount before she hummed to herself internally and appraised it, the figures burning into her vision. Then, with one quick swipe, the whole thing disappeared, no doubt sending her companion in some sort of confusion. The blonde blinked delicately, her slim wrists flexing to allow her to stand up, her lilac eyes fixed on the other. She walks over to his side of the table, and then gently offers her hand, and then, taking his response into account, links her arm through his, a soft, gentle touch. Her wide eyes blink at him, providing a warm, soft touch, and she shies away from being too close, merely guiding him. Her eyes are fixed before her, eyebrows narrowed in intense focus. She lets her eyes sharpen before she notices a short block in front of her, obviously the mark she's been looking for. She guides him into a small room, where a woman is working. Her hair is a strange, brilliant green, though it goes well with her pale skin and willowy frame. It's an almost-neon color, and she has a tattoo running up her face, a sprawling rune, one in glittering gold. She smiles at Scheherazade, a smirk growing on her face before she waves them in. There's a rickety step, and Scheherazade untangles their arms, pointing out the wooden step as to not let Crimson trip. The wooden structure is hastily thrown together and the architecture is awful. The walls are lopsided, as is the roof, but it's incredibly clean and neat. The woman opens the door, and Scheherazade thanks Lianne with a smile, inclining her head politely. Lianne's a florist, an odd occupation in Sword Art Online, no doubt, but she does her work well, even if most of her sells go to NPCs. Her fingers are flexible and cunning, and she used to be a decoy for their guild. Someone who drew in monster's attention, a cunning sneak, one who could slip past monsters or draw attention, letting the others easily pick off the distracted monsters. Her fingers are smooth and movements fluid, having used to be a lock picker. In the real world, the blonde had learned that she's a designer who tailored her own clothes, which explained her incredible precision. Sort of. Her eyebrows climb up at the sight of Crimson, and then she stares expectantly at Scheherazade. The blonde knight-like woman sighs before summoning her menu again, opening up her menu before transferring 20 Col to the woman. The green-haired youth smiles as her Col balance climbs and then gives her a two-fingered salute, disappearing into the back as the blonde was left to her own devices. As glittering arrays of flowers surround the brunette and the blonde, the girl pulls out a stool from some random corner and hands it over to Crimson, standing herself, eyes scanning over the room. Her fingers rest upon her hip. Her lilac eyes finally land up on a half-finished flower arrangement, and she approaches it. There's a rough wire outline, to guide Lianne, no doubt, and it's a huge, spiraling iris, one that's more of a sculpture than anything, rising up into the air, almost defying gravity. It's beautiful. Each "petal" is made of artistically intwined flowers, beautiful colors that make her blink in shock. Lianne comes back in, her hair pulled into a strict bun as she raises a brow at Crimson, her eyes expectant and voice blunt as she talks, hands on hips. Her eyebrows raise at the other. Lianne's actually rather pretty. She's Korean, from what Scheherazade remembers, slim and willowy and feminine, her eyelashes so long they can brush her cheeks and soft bone structure delicate and utterly lovely. She worked part-time as a model alongside her designer occupation, which was why she was allowed to participate in the beta test-she was a star, to put it plainly. She had been wildly successful, too, known for her demure grace and soft charm, but in private, she's bold and brash and clever, honest and true and loyal and intelligent. "You." Her soft voice wafts through the room, quiet and unassuming, but her aura is commanding. "Scheherazade told me to leave a basin of hot water for you in the back. There's also a simple change of clothes. A white t-shirt and black pants. Don't take too long, the water'll become cold and you'll catch one. A cold, that is. I don't know if we can get sick, and I don't want to find out. And don't thank me. Thank Scheherazade. She's the one who's paying for this." Her gaze flickers to the other, and she gives her a sigh, walking over. "Always picking up strays, hmm, knight?" She whispers into Scheherazade's ear, her teasing, gently feminine tone pleasing to the ear and melodic. "I can't say I'm surprised. I'll be in the merchant district if you need me. Message me then, okay?" She gives one last glance to Crimson and points to the door-the only door, except for the door they came in, and says, drily, "I hope you can find your way to the back." And then she leaves, giving Scheherazade a smile and a pat on the shoulder before her green hair whisks away, door shutting quietly behind her.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG

[Akagi]

"True freedom is to liberate yourself from..." ☒ Scheherazade ✐ 000 ✉ ...Time to clean myself Crimson Lv1

The white-pale, glossy lip and her pink cheeks, completed with her cheerful face was a sight to behold. Crimson could not stop himself from smiling as he looks at her bright smile; somewhere deep inside his heart he would feel satisfied for making her laugh. A sad face does not suit her, not with everything she had been through. That's the only thing he could do for her right now. But even then, that would not still be enough. A true gentleman...no, any human who have a sense of gratitude inside them should be repaying the favor they recieved. Improving her mood would be far from enough for everything she done for him. As someone who have a big sense of responsibilty, it would be his second task in this world to do anything whatever she asked. As long as her request did not go beyond the boundaries of his principles; doing good deeds, and do not even think of doing bad deeds. Although Crimson almost waste away the life his parent give...but that time was an exception. He would never do something like that again, yes. He swear upon his honor. Scheherazade would do two, three swipes in the midair with her finger; confused at her action, he could only guess her motion just now would be hr operating the menu. For what reason she did that, however, intrigues him. He let his curiosity dies inside his heart slowly, asking her to clarify the motion just now would be rude of him and also disrespecting her privacy. He woul reach for his cup of tea, only to see that his companion slowly stand up and went to his side. Before he could ask anything, Scheherazade offers her hand. Surprised and loss at what to do, he just take his hand and slowly stand up, careful not to pull her down with his weight. The soft and smooth sensation of her hand could be feel once more, sending heat to his face.  This time, however, Crimson couldn't be flustered more as his companion link her arm with his. His heart already beating fast threatend to burst anytime. His poor, weak heart could not stand the brash action of this girl. Did they do this all the time in her country, could this be some sort of tradition. If so, he would rather spare himself from such tradition, no matter how fun and stimulating it is, especially for the male counterpart. If I pull my arm, I will hurt her feelings. If I stay linked like this, I fear that I would die from my heart beating too fast. Fuu...calm yourself, Crimson. Think of this as nothing but a friendly gesture. You should focus on the road ahead, yup. And so he did; he strain his eyes and focus his sight towards the road ahead, only to be met with painful gaze from the people passing by them. Their painful gaze is nothing compared to the soft and smooth sensation on his arm right now. Enduring was all he could do. I should have take my social interaction class more seriously... Their trip in that condition did not last long as they enter an establishment. Disentangling her arm, Crimson rub his chest and pace his breathing. Doing something outrageous with telling him, he could not help but sigh. Sould he call himsself lucky or not? Whatever it is, he would be grateful if something lie that would not happen again for the third time. Cause if it did, he do not have a choice but to excuse himself. Interaction with the opposite gender should be done with consideration, especially does who have no relationship whatsoever. One should take care not to blemish their name for doing so would invite nothing but trouble. From another perspective, however, as a man he could not help but being happy. However he can't let her know that. Still, he have no idea where his companion have taken him to. Crimson looks around the room; flowers of assorted arrangements fills the room. The bright and colorful tulips, roses and some flowers he has never seen before, it's like stepping into a garden of flowers. It's a small room, and in the center stands a woman. NPC? Player? There's no way he could tell these two apart, but the crystal on top of her head more or less give away her identity. Her green hair, her pale-skin and her beautiful curve, it's rare to see a person like this in real life. Her look would attract unwanted ttraction, no doubt. She could be famous in the real world if she decides to do so. As to why she decided to indulge herself in this game, however, would be a question he would like an answer to. There are many things to be discovered out there, and since this world gives him the opportunity to learn stuff he would not experience if he did not go outside, he would not waste any chance that was laid before him. Or so he thought he will do, before the tone of the girl quicly shut whatever question he would like to ask her. Gesturing to the room behind her and telling him what to do, he exit the room leaving them both inside. A basin of water and a pair of cloth? Does that mean he have the opportunity to clean himself? That would be great, but again he had to rely on his companion to do that. Can't he do anything by himself? He could only think himself as a pathetic person. "Thank you for the offer...Since the two of you went to a great trouble of preparing the means to clean myself, it would be disrespectful of me to reject the offer given. Please wait for a while as I clean myself. It won't take long for me to do so." Entering an even smaller room through the door he was pointed to just now, he could see the basin of the water and also the cloth described earlie on a shelf close to the wall, just to the left of the wll. Closing the door behind him, he approach the basin and sit on the small tool. He dip his hand into the water; the temperature's hot but within acceptable range. He would remove his cloth through his menu.  His long hair takes prioity first, as it stands out more. Carefully he run his hand on his hair, removing any dirt or sand that stuck there. The water helpss quicken the process, altough a shampoo or soap would be helpful in this situation. But as they said, beggars can be choosers. He should be thankful that he even recieve an opportunity to do this. Finished with his hair, he continues cleaning his body. Long story short (there's no way I'm going into detail in this part >.< ) it took him around  7-8 minutes to remove himself off the stain, making sure he did so as fast as he can while being careful not to left behind any dirtiness. Taking the new pair of cloth, he add it into his inventory and equip it from his menu. The warmth from the water and the new set of clothes makes him feel better. His long, black hair regains it smoothness and his pale skin regain its color. He let his hair fall straight down as he feels uncomfortable of tying his hair. He check himself once with a mirror inside the, and satisfied with his refreshed looks. After making sure that everything inside the room is in order, he left the washing room and found Scheherazade still waiting for him. "So, how do I look. I must say this simple white T-shirt is more comfortable than tat beginner equipment."

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG