So I guess I'm coming back here, what with the uncertainty of other social media platforms. Also, I just kinda miss doing longer form posts that let me ramble a bit. It also gives me some place to direct people who are interested in what I'm doing.

Speaking of, I'll probably write something a little longer at some point. For now, I just wanted to dust and what not.

Quick Author's Note - This is pretty much in raw draft format, and I know there's probably typos that need to be taken out. I was also starting to wear down toward the end, so I suspect the last section of this chapter is going to need some work. Feedback, critiques and suggestions are all welcome, particularly since this is my first time really writing Argo and Yuuki.

Night descended on the Town of Beginnings like a blanket thrown over a child, the vibrant colors of sunset giving way to an inky black. Stars flickered into view on the faux sky projected onto the ceiling of the first level of the flying castle, the second floor above both tantalizingly close and insurmountably far away.

Torches along the streets sparked to like of their own accord, bathing the city in a warm, gentle glow. The background music loop shifted from its usual boisterous brass and percussion symphony to a gentle piano version of the same song. The roar of activity from the street side vendors quieted to a hum, with only a handful of NPCs still manning the booths. Along the streets NPCs and players mingled, but the two were easy enough to tell apart. The computer controlled cast bounded down the street, full of pleasant small talk. Though a wide range of emotions was present among them, most laugh. Almost all of them smiled.

Almost every player, on the other hand, could only stare into the middle distance, their faces masks of horror and disbelief as they trudged along the city streets.

The knowledge that a mere game had become a struggle of life or death did that to a person.

( Read More )

Why would the inmate return to the prison?

Asuna Yuuki looked into her computer screen, and the question stared back, daring her to answer. She drummed her fingers atop her desk, thumbed through the pages of a magazine on her desk, rearranged her pens for the twentieth time in the last ten minutes and finally picked up Kuroshiro, the stuffed panda bear that always sat on her bedside table. Yet every time she looked back, the question hadn't disappeared.

The cursor blinked in anticipation of the response she'd been struggling with, not just for the last half hour but for several days now.

"It might be good for you," one of her counselors had told her at the school. She was referring to a request from an American journalist who was chronicling the Sword Art Online incident for a feature story. Participation was optional, of course, but the journalist pursued her relentlessly. The price for using her actual name as her avatar, she couldn't mask her identity like Kazuto and the others.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard once more, but inevitably she leaned back in her chair and let out a loud sigh. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, scrolling through the contact list. It lingered on Kazuto's name for a time, but for all he meant to her, he often stammered his way through advice. When swinging a sword at a problem wasn't an option, he could flounder. He's also been against the idea of her talking to the reporter in the first place.

She looked through the other names, then finally settled on one. Over the course of a dozen messages, she explained the whole situation, including her fears of saying the wrong thing, having to represent how every survivor who returned to the digital world might feel, offending those who lost loved ones. She concluded with a sincere apology for sending so many messages, and a lingering fear she might be annoying the recipient. What came back was a simple three word answer.

[Shino Asada] Tell the truth.

"Leave it to the sniper to get right to the heart of the matter."

Yet her hands didn't linger over the keyboard this time, nor did she distract herself by picking up random items from the side of her desk. This time her fingers flew across the keys as she finally offered her answer.

Though trapped, she'd found herself there in a way she wouldn't have anywhere else. She forged new friendships and discovered parts of herself she never knew existed. No longer bound by the life her parents chose for her, Asuna had been able to forge her own path, a path she was determined to follow even after she escaped.

To Asuna Yuuki, Aincrad wasn't a prison. It had, in fact, freed her from one.