A red light broke the darkness. It illuminated nothing but the surface of the large vat of slowly bubbling blue liquid that appreared black across the chamber. A voice range out to annouce it's arrival.
+ATTENTION DUNGEON MASTER+
A mind within the vat stirred.
+ACKNOWLEDGED;REPORT+
+EXPERIMENT 377; TOTAL FAILURE; REQUESTING ORDERS+
+INITIATE LONG RANGE SCANNERS; SEARCH PARAMETERS:<70%GENETIC MATCH; BEGIN SCAN+
+ACKNOWLEDGED; BEGINNING SCAN+
====
The sun was just beginning its lazy odyssey across the lilac sky. Cirin had a wonderful view from his place walking down the street. The dull orb of light cast a purple haze on the brass bottomed ships along the mass of berths and docks. It glinted rather beautifully across the shimmering surface of the harbor. The bright blue ooze caressing the bottom of each ship bobbed gently, more viscous than water. Cirin shivered as he looked at it. He had seen firsthand what it could do to a man overboard.
The quiet street he strolled along was a mercantile one. Soon enough hawkers and tradespeople would be filling the empty space, as indeed they were already in the process of doing. A multitude of shops and stalls lined each side of the street, going all the way to the harbor and back towards the main town plaza some half mile behind him. Cirin barely spared any of this more than a passing glance. He saw the same shops in the same state every morning, though he did spy that the coffee shop across the street from his work had finally opened.
He exhaled, slowly walking down the cobblestoned streets. Hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. His small backpack hung heavily on his shoulders. He trudged towards his destination, a large two story restaurant at the end of the enormous commercial avenue. The leaning two story building sat right upon the edge of land, tucked just behind the corner of several small single story warehouses. It stooped precariously toward the sea, threatening to fall at any moment. As it had for the last decade, if what he heard from the other chefs was true. As he approached, he slowed. Checking the sun on the horizon, he decided he had just enough time for a cup of coffee at the new place across the street.
He approached the newly constructed building, which did not, he noted, lean. Pushing open the door, he walked inside.
A redheaded young woman greeted him enthusiastically.
"Hello and wel...come. Cirin? Cirin!"
Her smile lit up her face.
Cirin started. His sister was standing behind a podium just inside the shop. He hadn't recognized her. Instead of her curly red locks flooding around her as he was accustomed to, unbeholden to any comb or styling product, it was in a rather professional looking bun. Besides that, her uniform was nothing like what he would expect from Ira. Somewhat more professional than her usual messy aesthetic. She stood taller as well if his memory was to be believed, the top of her head level with his chin. She would be what, seventeen by now?
"Ira. Hi."
"How are you, it's been so long!"
She shot out from behind the podium and tackled him in a hug. He squirmed, attempting to resist, but she held him at such an angle that escape was impossible. She finally relented after several long, suffering moments. He shuffled back awkwardly. 8 months wasn't that long was it?Evidently she thought differently.
She looked up at him expectantly, pale blue eyes meeting his of the same shade.
He scrambled for something to say.
"You... got a job? Why? I thought you were supposed to be starting at Manakeep by now."
She stared at him, her smile turning into a pout.
"I, uh..."
She sighed and shook her head.
She looked back at him, smile back in full control of her features.
"I take it you're fine then. I'm doing great, and I start at manakeep next week."
"Oh, nice. So, the job?"
"I need money for school. Supplies specifically. A good brass matrix is pricey, you know?"
"I thought that... dad... left more than enough for you to attend Manakeep? I know he did, actually."
Ira's face changed slightly when he mentioned their father. Her smile was no longer so bright.
"He did."
"Then why the job?"
"I saw how much was actually left. Mom left the bank statement open in the kitchen, and I took a little peek."
She added after a moment, "And mom is doing well, thank you for asking."
"Oh, good."
"She really wants to see you, you know."
He averted his eyes and stayed quiet. Her smile lessened again, but she made on obvious effort to sustain it.
"Anyway, how about it? Where did you want to sit? I can take a quick break and have some coffee with you! We have a lot to catch up on!"
He couldn't look her in the eyes. Shame, guilt, and anger all tugged at him. He violently shoved them away.
"I was actually just checking the place out, I need to get to work."
He turned, pulling the collar of his jacket further up to cover the back of his neck, resettling it on his broad shoulders.
"Oh. Okay then."
Her voice wavered.
"Happy Birthday."
He froze. Glancing back, already halfway out the door, he saw her expression. The same emotions he had just hurled into the depths of his mind instantly resurfaced, more intense.
He stood frozen, traitorous words caustic in his throat. He bit them back and quickly walked to the rickety structure across the street.
=====
Cirin warily approached the building that housed some of his misery, his mind alight with thoughts and feelings that he had long since considered conquered. Stuffing them back in their box for now he walked through the front door of his personal hell.
The restaurant was empty for now. He knew that as soon as they opened it would be a real shitstorm. He hurried back into the kitchen giving a hasty "Hello" and "Good Morning" to the waitstaff pulling down chairs from tabletops and settling embroidered white cloth upon them. As he entered the kitchen, his boss, Eric, shouted over at him.
"Cirin! Actually on time today I see! Good."
Cirin mumbled a reply to the tune of "Yeah, Yeah."
He quickly slipped on his white double breasted jacket, rolling up the sleeves carefully to just about halfway up his forearm. This done, he put on his silly hat and a black apron. He tucked a white cloth towel into the fold of his apron. Properly outfitted, he retrieved the linen wrapped knife from the backpack he had been wearing. This particular knife was his pride and joy, razor sharp and with a walnut handle, imported. The blade gleamed in the kitchen light. He retrieved a cutting board from the long line of them underneath the dish pit.
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Knifework was always relaxing for Cirin, just turning vegetables into neat and tidy cubes and strips one a time until you fell into a rhythm. It was the perfect time to think, and he needed time to think. He sighed, slumping his shoulders. He needed time to think about something besides his sister's words.
Grabbing another bundle of long green stems from next to him, he slapped them down onto the board and forced himself to take a deep breath. Around him, the sounds and smells of a busy kitchen flowed, smooth and calm, lulling him back into a trance of a kind. This was his environment, where he felt at peace. He quickly fell back into a steady rocking chop, mind slowly beginning to wander. His left hand slipping under his rocking knife, he deftly sliced through the first knuckle of his index finger. Blood from the cleaved appendage began to pool on his cutting board and the table underneath. He snapped into focus and shouted in pain and shock.
“MOTHERFUCKER!!"
Grabbing the towel from his waist, he tried to stymie his rapidly draining blood. Eric hurried over with a handful of towels and began hurriedly helping with the wound.
“What the fuck happened Cirin?!” Panic was plain in his eyes as they took in the fingertip amid a pool of blood and chives.
“What does it fucking look like?!” Cirin’s voice was nearly as sharp as his blade, and his head began to swim.
“Somebody take him to a manamedic!” Eric pointed at a timid assistant, who was staring at the scene numbly, and commanded him, “You! Run!”
As the assistant sprinted out the back door with Cirin in his grip,he moaned in pain, unsucesfully holding back tears.
“Fuck today.”
=====
The clinic Cirin found himself being escorted to in short order thereafter was a squat one story building at the mouth of the street he had gone along that morning. The medic herself was older than him by some 30 years, yet still she had an air of youthful energy about her as she bustled about the crowded clinic. She mothered over him, salt and pepper hair covering her eyes before being brushed away, hemming and hawing as she bandaged his severed appendage.
He gritted his teeth as she applied it. She pulled a casting matrix from her belt, slightly larger than her palm; the device looked much like a compass. It was round, with a dial in the middle pointing to one of several symbols adorning the edge of the thing. Attached to the side were 2 small vials. One contained unasped filtered mana, the other ice aspected mana. She turned the dial several times, from one symbol to another and back.
The ice aspected mana flowed from the vial to a small chamber embedded along the face of the brass surface, while the unaspected mana flowed from its own vial to meet it. The two met in a larger chamber in the center. The medic closed her eyes for a moment, a look of intense concentration overcoming her features. Icy coolness overcame his pain. His finger went from sharp ache to numbness. He heaved a sigh of relief, marveling at the process.
The Manamedic looked relieved after the beam left the device. She wiped a nearly invisible droplet of sweat away with her long white sleeves.
“Well now, that should do you for a while. Should wear off sometime tomorrow. You come back then, and I'll go ahead and help you again.” She winked at him.
He fidgeted uncomfortably, unaccustomed to the direct attention.
“Or whenever you feel like. Don't get many men like you around here.” She indicated to his white coat. “Culinarily inclined, you know.”
He offered a strained smile, hoping that she would soon avert her attention. She apparently noticed his unease as she offered a more disarming smile and explained in a less amourous voice.
“It should start to heal on its own after a few days. Just come see me again when the pain starts up.”
Cirin gently poked at the mass of white bandages on the end of his finger, grimacing. It was totally numb up to the edge of his palm.
“Thank you ma’am. I imagine I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Good. Now get on out of here. I’ve got other patients to see too.”
She waved him on, as she simultaneously motioned for another injured man to move to the curtained off area they currently occupied.
=====
Cirin left the clinic in a strange mood. He considered his options. He could just go home to his cozy apartment and drink the night away, as he did many nights. Though the words his sister had spoken earlier that day echoed in his head.
“She really wants to see you, you know.”
He closed his eyes. Breathing unsteady, he made an effort to calm it. He opened his eyes once again and determined his course.
=====
It was a large building, his family’s manor. Three stories that stood proudly above a carefully manicured lawn and small garden. He took this in from outside the gate that stood just away from the stone walkway drawing a line to the front door.
He braced himself, and pushed the iron gate open.
A chime rang near the front door, indicating to those inside that they had a visitor.
Irin burst out, hair just as wild as he remembered it always being. She tackled him with a hug.
“You actually came! I’ve been waiting!” She squealed happily, arms wrapping around him in a vice grip. Her hair flailed chaotically, no longer bound by a strict bun. Her clothes also reported towards her lax attitude.
“Mom is going to be so happy to see you!” He struggled valiantly, but this time her grip was vice-like. No escape as he had enjoyed this morning. She relented eventually, not quite letting go but putting some space between them. Her hands still held his sides and her eyes demanded his attention.
She took in his newly altered finger.
“What happened?! Your finger!” She looked concerned. She shouldn't have been. He was fine. It wasn't like it hurt right now.
“I’m fine. Just a little accident. Missing a little more finger than before, that’s all.”
“That’s all he says! You’re missing a whole damn fingertip!”
“Well, yes.” He muttered.
“MOTHER! MOTHER GET OUT HERE HE HURT HIMSELF AGAIN!”
Cirin winced, he hadn't wanted to concern them so. Especially after not seeing them for so long. That was blown, as well as his tentative plans at controlling the conversation.
His mother emerged from the manor. She was dressed in fine silks, vibrant red overtaking the dull blue outlining the flowing dress. She took a handful of measure steps for him. Always in control, even when obviously distressed.
“Goodness son, what have you done to yourself? I don’t see you for a few months and you manage to damn near cripple yourself! This is exactly why I said you should still be living here! We could have had Meridith save your damn finger!”
Cirin ground his teeth hard. That voice she summoned when scolding him had always angered him more than damn near anything else ever had. An ember of rage burned inside his chest even as he spoke pleasantly.
“Hello mother. It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”
She snorted.
“Oh I can tell by the tone of your voice exactly how much you missed me. Now come here. Let me take a good look at you. It’s been a little while after all.”
Irin disengaged from him, finally, and he hesitantly walked towards his mother.
“Now then.” Her eyes took on a gentle look as she gazed over him.
“You’ve lost weight. You look good.” She said after a long moment. He shrugged. He hadn't noticed.
She suddenly strode forward and enveloped him in a hug that barely encompassed his torso. He hesitated for a moment, then returned it. She felt small. Frail. Older than he had considered possible for the old stone.
Eventually his mother separated from him. He took a step back, towards Irin.
“Now then, I have a gift for you!” Irin stated, pulling an envelope from her back pocket.
“I was just accepted to Manakeep, and my teleport ring came in a couple of days ago. It looks nice, don't you think?” She brandished the golden ring towards him, then slipped it on her left middle finger, showing it off to him.
=====
+ACCEPTABLE GENETIC MATCH WITH RANGE; ESTIMATED 90% MATCH;BEGINNING LONG RANGE TELEPORT+
=====
She slipped the ring back off, and handed it to Cirin.
“I know you always wanted to go and see Manakeep, you talked about it nonstop as a kid. Now you can! I will need the ring back of course, but you can borrow it wherever you want to teleport over for a quick visit.”
He stared at the ring.
=====
+ERROR; SIGNAL LOST+
=====
He took it gingerly, not speaking. Not daring to speak. Words swelling up he did not trust himself to order properly. Speaking them would only confuse the situation. He chose them carefully.
“Thank you. I will go see it. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He put on the ring.
=====
+SIGNAL REACQUIRED; RECALCULATING; 75% GENETIC MATCH; WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS; BEGINNING TELEPORTATION+
=====
Cirin turned into slime.