Быть Гладу и Хладу / There will be Hunger and Cold: 19. Я спою ему колыбельную, придумаю для него особую сказку. Сказку со счастливым концом

19. I will sing him a lullaby and make up a special fairy tale for him. A fairy tale with a happy ending

Camrad_RIP 10.02.26 в 21:09

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Camrad_RIP 10.02.26 в 21:09

To her credit, his opponent quickly realized that her mental influence on Ilya was not even knocking on a closed door or a brick wall, but rather into the cosmic void. And so, in less than ten minutes, she quickly stopped emphasizing the mental nature of her attacks, although she did not stop them completely. Madness and suggestion go hand in hand in the talents of Storytellers, often without distinguishing between their own and their opponents, affecting everyone's minds equally. Well, if the Storyteller is completely stupid, and the team is no smarter. If none of them have experience working in a group, which happens quite often, it's worth acknowledging. But no, his opponent is not one of those. She knew exactly what she was doing and what exactly not to do under any circumstances.

Camrad_RIP 10.02.26 в 21:12

The impact on thinking was reduced to the minimum level, below which it simply could not go without destroying the basis of the fairy tale. But the flip side was that Madness, o-o-o-o, brought out this side of her power not in an afterburner, but a noticeable strengthening. In general, the lady quickly got her bearings. Much faster than Ilya would have liked. But he realized much later that he had reached zugzwang, and there was no way out of it, none at all. The Earthling obviously knew very well how to play against the Storyteller, but there, if you didn't have a specific counter-build or simply a convenient counter-class, such as the Traitor, the lion's share of tactics was based on finding other people's mistakes and vulnerabilities.

Camrad_RIP 10.02.26 в 21:15

And there were none

Camrad_RIP 10.02.26 в 21:16

None at all!

Camrad_RIP 10.02.26 в 21:16

Ilya didn't realize this right away, or rather, he didn't believe it right away. He assessed his opponent's actions and tried to calculate her build so that he could then switch to the most productive tactic. At first, he thought she was somehow leading him on. That she was hiding some very unpleasant relics under her cloak, which, according to his calculations, should have been no less than those of his previous enemy, the extremely lucky Occultist. His mind habitually gravitated toward the most rational options rather than the fantastical ones, but his opponent, either deliberately or as part of her usual tactics, tried to present herself as less than she was capable of, creating a false impression of her abilities. Bravo, what else can I say? This is exactly how Storytellers should work and succeed — making you believe what they show you.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 02:12

Ilya had already passed through the constantly shifting mansion three times, following the now clearly intentional signature of the other's heart. She didn't attack, aside from trying to put pressure on his brain. She was merely probing his defenses, and Ilya was trying to figure out how exactly she was evading him. With her feet, or some "Actress Behind the Scenes" talent, which allows her to close the distance between herself and the enemy until she's spotted with absolute certainty. A game with the principle of superposition, where the Storyteller's location doesn't change position in space, but exists in several points at once. Shimmering camouflage fits perfectly here. It's a rather risky tactic, but not without its undeniable and obvious advantages.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 02:16

The sensor sees a fleeting signature and pinpoints the enemy's location. And the enemy is actually there. The signature is real, not a false one. But as soon as you see that spot with your own eyes and cover it with strike talents, it turns out the Storyteller isn't there and never was. Meanwhile, the sensor already sees a new breach in the camouflage, which briefly reveals the Storyteller, hidden several hundred or thousands of meters from the previous point. The main thing is to have somewhere to hide, so that all the hiding spots, all the "Backstage," can't be seen, collapsing the uncertainty principle into a beautiful zero. In today's arena, with its vast and constantly changing scope, talent is close to ultimate, even if you take its primitive version, the four-step "Actor" or "Actress," rather than the five-segment "Maestro" or "Matress."

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 03:00

Incidentally, these talents aren't gender-specific; despite the name, men can take the female version and vice versa. Among Earth Storytellers, incidentally, the "Actress" talent is more often chosen. There, the choice of aspects during development is more stable and more suitable for group work; individual details of the talents vary, despite their similar nature. The Earthman knew all this, but didn't show it, stoically enduring the gradually increasing impact on his Twin, trying to trick the girl into a few new tricks. Let her believe that he didn't understand how and why exactly she "pulls back the curtains" for him, and how exactly she manages to escape each time.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 03:07

He moved quickly. Not at full speed, still in his human form, but swiftly passing through two or three rooms in two breaths, racing through corridors, knocking over furniture and small interior objects. At the same time, he was becoming more familiar with everything his rival's Lot could do. He is learning and becoming more and more stunned with each passing moment. The lady pressed on, constantly and incessantly, irritating, unnecessary, and alien thoughts receding into the background, but her words, a whisper that pierced his bones and kidneys, constantly resonated at the edge of his perception. With every moment, with every second of this otherworldly beast's work, it was as if heavy weights were being placed upon the earthling.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 03:21

At first, the fairy tale didn't cause any direct damage; it made him a little weaker, a little more vulnerable, a little slower, breaking Ilya's resistance with extreme reluctance. Even this would have turned another diver, or even someone simply gifted, into a mere character rather than a living person, and so transformed that you wouldn't even notice. Ilya hadn't even weakened significantly, but he could already sense this weakness creeping up on him, slowly catching up. The asshole acted as if by a textbook, conducting what the earthlings at the Forum called "softening" or, with particular cynicism, "casting." Selecting the role that would best affect a specific target.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 03:27

Ilya is not the kind of actor who easily falls into a role, but he is not facing an ordinary Storyteller.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 03:27

And it's okay if it was only pressure. He would endure that! Having prepared and partially activated the "Event Scene" properties, the Storyteller began more specific attacks. These were downright dangerous. Here was the diver running down a long, elongated corridor, reminiscent of a gut, and a very richly furnished one at that, with tapestries hanging all around, the walls adorned with silk wallpaper and what he initially mistook for windows into adjacent rooms. These weren't windows, but mirrors, to which Ilya reacted in passing, noted his reflection, and ran on. Only to stop ten meters later, digging his heels into the floor, leaving noticeable grooves in the expensive carpet and nearly falling in the process.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 03:44

It's hard not to fall over when your pants are falling off, and your feet are flying out of your boots at the same time! Every mirror he passed seemed to take a few years off Ilya, off his Twin, not by aging him, but by rejuvenating him. Aging would have consumed by his defenses, but the Storyteller took the opposite approach and applied what could be considered a limited benefit. An actively applied "Mirror Trick," five steps, no less, and a highly developed one at that, not the second or even the third step, if it affected him so much. In most cases, this very specific curse either ages with each new mirror contact, or disfigures, or oppresses in the mental field, portraying one not as oneself, but as a character in a fairy tale.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 03:58

Of course, if one escaped the Storyteller's control, a teenager like Ilya would have aged to the standard, or even noticeably more, in a matter of weeks, if not days. But in direct combat, suddenly turning from a grown man into a skinny kid is, let's say, very unpleasant, especially for the melee fighter. That's if you don't become a kindergartener or a baby. Or an old hunchback. Or a magical girl. Or a sheep. Ilya resisted too well to be affected that way, but he still aged, and he had to go back and smash each mirror with a blow, returning what he had stolen.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 04:10

He could use Form, ripping away the influence. He could go into Trancendece and remove even traces of the influence. He could protect himself with Breath. He could try some of the specific pure rituals against the Storytellers or simply start "breaking the fourth wall," even though he's no Jester. But the earthling was still saving his trump cards for the decisive push. He already understood that victory here would only be possible with a sharp, decisive maneuver, like diarrhea, not a protracted battle. Such tactics work almost as poorly against Storytellers as they do against Druids.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 09:03

He'd actually calmed down a bit at this point, having roughly calculated his opponent's build—five in "Behind the Scenes," another five in "Trickery," plus the mandatory "Event Scene" and "Narrative Construction", plus a corresponding number of compensators. Even if she had a couple of relics, extra talents, or other buffs, he'd roughly seen the core of her build and already knew how to deal with her. At that point, he saw the main problem as finding the woman, unlocking her backstage, and forcing her into combat. And then there's the classic: smashing and breaking every mirror, avoiding reflections on every surface, and immediately destroying her tricks before any creeps started crawling out from behind the mirrors.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 09:10

There were still plenty of risks, but it was almost routine, almost too simple. So he waited for a few trump cards, hidden among the classic eleven talents for the first tier of Storyteller. Subconsciously, he was still afraid, disbelieving, unable to believe that she had reached the ninth duel unbeaten, with a somewhat standard, albeit incredibly powerful, build, but lacking some highly toxic, unfair tricks. And he was obviously right. Although he really, really, really wanted to make that mistake in his excessive paranoia.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 11:32

They almost missed the next attack, simply because Ilya was too focused on searching for mirrors. He expected an attack from there. And that's exactly what they gave him—a reflection in the floor, beginning to cut itself raw, leaving a couple of shallow scratches on its frozen skin, as if it had played a mean game with a cat. An Earthling, of course. A glimpse of the mutilated face of an Earthling, his eyes torn out, caught in a full-length mirror hidden behind a curtain, and Ilya himself lost sight of his left eye for a few seconds. Reflected in a sheet of polished steel, a small boy tried to jump out of the mirror, as if blowing a soap bubble in the shape of his body. The diver tore off the creature's head with some satisfaction, nearly splattering himself with mercurial mirror blood.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 11:35

In short, the lady diligently showed him all the possible uses of "Mirror Trick," leveling it up to at least three out of five. She even highlighted "Reification of the Story," which had four levels, or even "Past Fiction," which had all five. Two additional talents, each requiring at least one, preferably a full, package of balancers. This was already quite a serious advantage. Ilya thought so, although he didn't deny the possibility of something else in the wide sleeves of her cloak. But he was still quite stunned when, running through one of the doors, he suddenly found himself in the middle of a richly furnished dining room.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 12:03

"Oh, young man, close the door and get to work, please," said the typical, textbook, rich, good-natured, fat aristocrat, looking up from his lobster or something similar, while Ilya's mind was hit with a pressure that intensified to the point of giving him a migraine. "We're almost done with the aperitif, and we've been waiting quite a while."

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 12:04

Ilya's clothes were already beginning to change into a servant's livery, and his facial features were blurring, incidentally also reflected in the mirror that instantly appeared on the wall. They were blurred because they were reflected. Extraneous thoughts and convictions were already forming in his head, fortunately, easily discernible. Ilya had no intention of accepting the role of loyal lackey, moving on to the main course, which was supposed to be the lackey himself, voluntarily lying down on the table until his breastbone was slit open and eaten out. Instead of lobster, yeah. And if only the mentally insane shit that forcing him into the role, imposing it as naturally as breathing was natural!

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 12:17

A common diver would have struck up a conversation, involuntarily slowing down, trying to sort out his own thoughts, and simply not paying attention to the fact that he was voluntarily stepping onto someone else's plate. And this despite the fact that the mental blow was by no means the main point of the attack, but rather an inevitable side effect, one that the woman hadn't really planned for. No-o-o-o-o! Ilya felt terrible because his Status, his Lot, seemed to flicker, began to recede. Some of the talents he sensed in his mind seemed blocked, as if painted over, obscured by layers of theatrical fabric, makeup, and props. His body spasmed. A servile smile began to creep onto his face. His legs took the first two steps, his back bowed in a deep, obsequious bow.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 12:21

Until Ilya reached his Breath, blanketing the entire dining room in an icy drizzle. The paint peeled from the walls, the beauty peeled from faces that weren't really faces at all, but mannequins, motionless dolls, expendable materials, those damned "Theater Props!" The room itself trembled and collapsed, the abnormally high ceiling snapped back into place, the walls drew closer, mirrors and reflective surfaces that weren't there to begin with burst. All six members of the typical aristocratic family and three more footmen, that damned mixture of summoned and artisanal minions, suddenly and swiftly lunged at the one who had allowed himself to fall out of character, starting a fight for which the earthling, despite all his forethought, was unprepared.

Camrad_RIP 11.02.26 в 13:55

Fuck! This is... Start with "Theatre-Goer's Props," five steps already pumped up, continue with "Genre Choice" at four steps or its equivalent, supplement with "Roleplay Necessity" at another five, polish it off with "Sinister Makeup" and "Lady's Powder Compact" at three steps each, and finish with "Tale of Colors," also at five! No, he doesn't deny that, in terms of synergy, it's an extremely powerful combination, not at all like that of some randomly killed crazy Hunter. But where the fuck did she get the talent for all this?! Even if she forgot about balance talents, even if she herself, like the Earthling, might not take them at all, it still somehow turned out pretty damn good! If we count the balancers, then even with the most favorable calculation for Ilya, she already has almost two dozen demonstrated talents.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 09:13

The fight was short and brutal to the extreme. The Earthling struck immediately after the role that prevented him from using his own abilities was removed. An Icy Breath engulfed the hall, which had returned to its normal, standard size for this cube-like house, weakening the reanimated characters, stripping away their buffs and defenses. A regular, run-of-the-mill Storyteller would never create such constructs quickly, and even if they did, no amount of force would make them strong. In most cases, fresh characters can be defeated by a sufficiently bold old woman with a broom instead of a mace. Their main strength is brainwashing, a highly insidious and difficult-to-control method of drawing the victim into the scenario's concept.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 09:20

Well, of course, these particular opponents weren't exactly fresh. They fought and moved no worse than any newly minted gifted one! The Lord of the House, whose hands had become fused with cutlery, began hurling them at Ilya, who was swinging like a pendulum, multiplying and multiplying their number, firing a fork-and-knife machine gun so fast he thought he was a military-issue needle-shooter. He managed to fire a long burst that pierced the walls and floor, only managing to scratch the Earthling a couple of times, who had been practicing maneuvering against needle-shooters, even though he was more counting on countering the Mechanists.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 09:25

Then the character started to stand, causing the fucking table to rise with him! Because it turned out the Lord was the table, and his body was just a decoy. The massive creature, surprisingly agile for its size, nearly crushed the diver beneath it, but he managed to gain speed and push off the wall. And then the Cald played its part: the spider-like legs of the dining table finally gave way beneath them, depriving the main creature of maneuverability, so the character was of no help to the rest of the family and his servants. Although they had a good chance, they certainly moved faster than ungifted humans and actively used cutlery. In the cloud of Ice Breath, they became dull and seemingly blind, even though their painted eyes, blurred with color, turned out to be not needed for orientation.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 11:17

A step forward, a kick to the chest, almost piercing it, a twisting motion with the entire body, and a lunge with the cleaver, another, cutting off the legs of a third, severing an arm, and multiplying the wooden-wax head of a fourth, a short breath in the face, another at his own feet. The Storyteller's narrative voice struggled to penetrate the cloud of cold and could neither help the characters nor hinder Ilya, not so quickly. Give her time, and she would have crafted a plot in which a valiantly fighting, loving family and their loyal servants would have managed to overcome the hungry monster that had treacherously attacked them. Give her even more time, and this story might even have become reality. But the earthling didn't give her time, acting, if not at his limit, then very quickly, destroying his freezing and crumbling opponents.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 12:18

The last one to fall was the human table. It simply collapsed under its own weight. Ilya could name several aspect options that would allow for such rapid character growth, albeit at the cost of short-livedness. He could, yes. But what he couldn't comprehend was the limits of his counterpart's power. She had already demonstrated, in effect, two full builds, two and a half even. Stealth and quantum undetectability, polished with mental pressure. The mirror theme, quite developed at that, and dangerous even for Ilya. And now, character creation and high-quality makeup, honing into the summoner-minion class tree. All of this simply couldn't fit into a single step I diver; it practically required a coven of Storytellers!

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 13:06

Or he'd have to admit the obvious. His opponent had far more initial talents than the average diver. Or perhaps she could acquire new ones much more easily as she developed. Both, or a combination of both, were only possible if the Storyteller had won her own Lottery. Which, of course, wasn't surprising, but, damn it all, it was incredibly frustrating to have to corner this wretch somehow and defeat her. The arena was literally perfect for her, almost better suited than that rural pastoral had been for the lucky Occultist.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 13:40

If the fight had been on the same terrain as the battle with the Pure One or the first Occultist, everything would have been much easier. The Storyteller, unprepared and unable to keep her distance, would have been over in a few beats. Yeah. And even better if the tournament mechanics had bound her tightly. Then Ilya would have had a blast. But jokes aside, the situation grew more and more unpleasant with each beat of the fight. He had to suppress a rather obvious thought, accompanied by the calm and measured chant of the narrative resounding beyond his perception. The thought that, unless his opponent made a glaring mistake or committed an obvious folly, he would definitely lose this fight.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 15:10

He pushed this thought away. He pushed away the urge to let his arms hang limply, yet he couldn't even blame his opponent for mental influence. These depressing thoughts belonged to him, and him alone. However, what distinguishes a well-trained diver from a talented amateur is precisely the skill and willingness to fight to the end where there is no possibility of either victory or retreat. Because always, always, absolutely always, you must squeeze as much out of the Twin and the next dive as possible. Never count on your opponent making a mistake, that's true. But always be prepared for the fact that they will make one. There are countless instances where a logically hopeless situation has turned around completely because the stronger one believed in their own victory.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 15:25

Believed it too early.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 16:24

The problem was that Ilya believed in his own defeat too much, and the most grievous grief was that he had every reason for it.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 16:29

After the battle with the characters, he had even more potential problems. Now he had to watch not only the mirrors but also scratch every random surface, hoping to remove a layer of makeup and trigger a trap. Progress slowed even more, but Ilya understood that his opponent was also working close to the limit. A constant narrative, a ton of traps, and creating characters, even if using templates rather than from scratch? No matter the number of talents, the energy itself can't handle it! If she were a Warlock like Irina, Ilya would be much calmer, but Storytellers aren't bottomless either. Let their talents be self-sustaining and, with the right acceleration and the right methodology, gradually unfold, taking root in reality.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 18:35

All he had to do was press so hard and sharply, so frequently and continuously, that the Kingdom within the location simply couldn't manifest itself, losing piece after piece. Easy to say, hard to do. But he tried. He destroyed several more mirror traps. He destroyed a closet full of mannequins dressed as noble guards. He did it even before they started to crawl out. It was then, looking at the nearly two dozen rather simple but combat-ready characters created in such a short time, that the earthling felt truly sad. And yet, for the battle, he had had to use Form, simultaneously using "Trancendence" to break through the talent blockade.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 18:53

He was practically forced into the role of a rebel fugitive. Some of his talents seemed to have been covered in a layer of makeup, not even blocked, but rather transformed, more suited to some Assassin, with a crappy build at that. That's another call for a completely different build, yeah. Storytellers aren't Mimes, which are a subspecies of Jester. They can't copy other talents so completely, but in their Kingdom, their will is strong enough that the role was forced upon them even within the Domain. A combination of the "Reification of the Story" and "Unlocking Potential" also of five steps. He could somehow work with the block, but talent swapping? The only thing he can count on here is extreme resistance in combat form, and "Trancendence."

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 21:10

The latter proved itself beyond all praise, literally tearing away the shackles of someone else's Fairy Tale, allowing him to destroy the guards in the closet almost without a fight, quickly overcoming the damn block. He also seemed to understand how she so quickly developed her characters. It couldn't have been done without "Myth Embodiment" and "Fictional Lies" in four and three steps. Or their equivalents, which allowed for the embodiment of stories. In her Broken sector, there was clearly some legend, or even legends, about a gluttonous aristocrat who ate so abundantly that he grew into his own table and didn't disdain the servants' meat, since they hadn't managed to bring a new portion of lobsters. There were stories about a squad of cutthroats in someone's closet, along with hundreds of other jokes, fables, legends, and myths.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 21:13

And it relies on them, amplifying the characters' effects, accelerating their maturation, and turning them into enclosed mini-stories. The tournament arena is unimaginably far from her sector, yet at the same time absolutely close to it, which is why the legendary characters are exactly as strong as they would be in the place where these rumors originated. Ilya would have sworn profanities of the utmost unprintability if he hadn't been in the guise of Wendigo, if he hadn't been busy tearing a new batch of characters to pieces. They themselves ran in from the next room, straight from the door on the wall, an extra door, simply painted, and the constructs themselves were also painted. They fell apart at the slightest touch, but only stopped pushing as a crowd after the drawing of the door was frozen.

Camrad_RIP 18.02.26 в 12:44

Another fifty rooms, another ambush, as if she could already move the rooms themselves, with their prepared stories, prepare them in advance, and drag them closer to the earthling. This time, it was another mirror, which itself shattered into pieces, and from these fragments emerged seven of Ilya's twins. A mental effect, intended to make the earthling himself doubt which of them was the real one, literally stretching his personality across all the decoys en masse, so that they would then tear each other apart, was included. A flash of migraine made them stagger, but all seven instantly lost their human form, not, however, turning into Wendigos, but rather into a hybrid between form and human.

Camrad_RIP 15.02.26 в 08:08

Once again, the ability to transcend limits came to the rescue, a brief transformation and a new incarnation that broke the block on other people's stories, making the Twin truly a Twin. If anything surprised her, it was this trick, literally perfect for fighting the Storyteller. Well, not just against this class, but against him as well. The creatures, the active combination of "Mirror Trick" and "Reflected Enemy," coupled with the previously demonstrated "character" combination, having lost their attunement, became simply quick and fragile piles of glass shards that crumbled with a few jabs from a well-worn cleaver.

Camrad_RIP 15.02.26 в 08:10

It was at that moment, assessing the speed of the new trap's preparation, calculating the ever-decreasing pause between attacks and the growing power of the new mini-scenarios, that Ilya realized a simple truth. He wouldn't lose. He wasn't even losing. He'd already lost, lost in a battle of attrition, which had seemed highly unlikely to him. Either she had another gift from the Lottery, enhancing her recovery and magic reserves, or simply additional power-building talent bundles. The kind they call "turret" talents on Earth, designed for prolonged defense and accumulation of power within a controlled area. Those same Druids, especially the cinematic ones, only play like that, and the Mechanism itself commanded the Storytellers to create Fairytale Kingdoms.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 10:23

Where for them the fairy tale always has a happy ending, but for the enemy, not so much.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 10:24

And simply for everyone who turned up and who was dragged into that Kingdom.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 10:24

How many talents does she have in that combination? Five more, or all seven, if you count the compensators? Or can they be ignored? Whatever the case, Ilya couldn't see a way to claw out a victory, and it wasn't just the constant narrative cluttering his ears. He'd done everything right, he'd made no mistakes from the start, but his opponent was simply too strong, too good; she'd taken advantage of the most important parts of her already-demonstrated talents. He'd defeated the catwoman by provoking her into error, correctly exploiting her desire to play with her prey, which had become too strong due to her blood. He'd taken advantage of the mistakes of the Occultist. Fortunately, he made them in abundance.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 10:26

But now his enemy isn't making mistakes and isn't willing to play, no matter how much she tries to show the opposite. All these games of narratives, the mental pressure is simply part of her Lot. The Storyteller hasn't lost her mind; she's incredibly, surprisingly, pragmatic in her actions. A key and a lock. Try one thing, and if it doesn't work, try another and a third, or even a combination. Choose the means that will achieve the stated goal — Ilya's, uncompromising defeat. Frankly, she acted much as Ilya himself would have acted if he were the Storyteller and not the Wendigo. If he were facing himself.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 10:15

Look as much as you like, but you won’t find any mistakes in her actions.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 09:35

And without mistakes, fighting build against build, strength against strength, she's simply stronger. She was always stronger. It's just that now it's become clear to him that he can't turn the tide. There's no way. Ilya simply freezes over the destroyed mirror images, realizing everything that could have been but never happened, the weight of his mistakes, his glory, and his shame, pushing the narrative that was once again trying to erupt deeper and deeper in thought. It took him about thirty seconds to weigh his remaining options, calculate the cost of his reserves and the speed at which they would replenish, and then finally make the inevitable decision. He didn't have the strength for a long game of tag. Even for a short one.

Camrad_RIP 14.02.26 в 09:50