A/N: Neither of us particularly knew what to write for the intermission (in fact, ideas would be welcome, even though we're not likely to use every one), so she just got me to ramble incoherently at some ungodly hour of the night. For about a thousand words. So do pardon us if this bores you! This chapter isn't exactly filled with very plot-pertinent information, so you won't miss out on much if you end up skimming through.

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INTERMISSION II: Don't bleed on the Suits.


You stand in front of a door. It is painted scarlet and etched with ornate carvings that are quite literally, not from this universe.

What do you do? Push it open, of course.

And so it does open, silently swinging inside at your slightest touch. Beyond it, there is a room. Furnished quite tastefully, you admit with some measure of awe. But after a while, your eyes begin to hurt - everything, all the aforementioned furniture and draperies and even the dim glow from lamps placed around the room, is red. You don't want to know if the dappled patterns on the couch are suspiciously crimson stains, or simply part of the design. The red fur carpet in one corner is flecked with more red. The mahogany hardwood sidetable swirls with mother-of-pearl inlay dyed scarlet.

It unnerves you somewhat, but you don't have time to pursue this train of thought as another door opens, and someone walks into the room.

It is a woman, a very shapely woman. A very shapely woman with a face of porcelain, a face of porcelain devoid of features. No eyes, no ears, no mouth, no nose. Her lush locks are a brilliant crimson, stark against her pristine white suit. The first few silvery buttons are undone, and you can see a red blouse underneath.

"You rang?" The woman inclines her head politely and you stare, not sure what to do. There is a slight pause before she chuckles. "Oh, I forgot. I don't have a doorbell~"

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. You've never met her, you're sure. Who is she?

"Welcome to my humble apartment. Do take a seat, my dear - as an excellent host, I certainly wouldn't want my guests to tire themselves out standing!" She gestures towards the velvet couch. You eye the stains suspiciously, walking over as per her invitation. The patches seem dry and part of the fabric, but you still choose the most stainless portion you can and perch yourself there.

"I hope you don't mind being left alone for a while; I am expecting two more guests, and the preparations are rather exhausting. Pardon my lack of manners, and feel free to make yourself at home." You feel curious about the guests, and her identity in general; but she waves her hand dismisively at your mystified face. "Don't look so awkward, you may make yourself at comfortable in the most literal sense of the term. However, try not to touch the candy on the table. That is reserved for another of my guests, if you don't mind."

You nod.

"But before I return to my previous preocupation... you are here to enquire why the narration has been abruptly interrupted, am I correct?"

You nod again, and hold out an envelope weighed down with a disc you know is inside. The woman takes it from you.


Ahh, a scratched disc. A common problem, nothing I can't fix. Though by the way it has been marred - an arrangement of four squares in a rhombus configuration, with a fifth smaller one somewhere near the centre - I know who committed this paradoxically trivial crime.

It will take time, though I can safely assert that the disc should last until the Critical Event - what is it, you ask? It is fate itself. The fate of so many beings, the confluent strings of so many aconcurrent circumstances that bring things to the way they are today - and bring things to the way they will be when everything comes together, as meticulously arranged by myself.

You've helped, of course. To a lesser extent, but the influence is there. And lastly, we have our heroes, their wills exercised on this timeline in an almost negligible degree.

If you don't mind waiting here while I complete my repairs, I will tell the rest of the story. I will show you as well, as I recover data from the disc. But the visuals I supply will be nothing more than abbreviated snapshots, and my telling will be abridged. I am, after all, no substitute for actually being there to witness things. However, that is a privilege you can't afford, so I will have to suffice.

Let's get on with it, shall we?

Immortality notwithstanding, I'm not going to live forever, you know.

And for once in my life, time is at a premium. Now, where were we?

I'll remind you that the pacing of my account will be characterized by a reduction in detail from what you have come to expect by way of an undamaged disc. You will imagine the remainder of the duel to be sensational, and I will continue my steady distribution of facts as if they were pieces of candy, poured from a bottomless white hemisphere.

The duel ends. The Slayer falls. The Seer departs. The Heir grieves.

Where will they go next? It is not up to their whims, but the whims of the captain they ride with. There will, of course, be a funeral for the slain, and mourning will delay their journey. There still remains the problem of how they will continue on the next leg with a substantial lack of both funds and a group member, presumably dead. The Veil has consumed her, and the Seer will be out of our story. For now.

With the Noble Circle fully occupied, the Knight will finally gain his long-anticipated entrance to the Medium. The Dark Kingdom will welcome him, as per the customs, but there will be no celebrations this time. The Black Queen has been assassinated, and her murderer is on the run. The Black King has the foresight to appoint a new regent, but not enough to select one suitable for governance. The Knight will be allowed to live - as long as he does not interfere with the regent's affairs. Knowing how feisty the boy is, I doubt he'll be in Derse for long.

The Heir, still in shock over the death of one dear to his heart, will step back from his designated role as leader of our little group. A character once in the background will then take his place - but the Witch still requires guidance. And perhaps protection, something a Knight would willingly provide. The three of them will soon be joined by a fourth member to complete their party, one called from the Medium by none other than the Witch herself. This act will bring comfort, but a First Guardian without an omniscient form will bring trouble, as you should be well aware of.

But I'm sure you've heard enough of these children, as fascinating as they are. The adults around them...twelve of them will have an important journey to make, although their trials will be a story for another day. In fact, there is another set of twelve who we haven't heard of in quite some time. I'm sure you must be anxious to know about their future.

On hindsight, telling you their future would be quite silly. After all, you're going to know sooner or later, right? We're heading towards their grand reappearence even now. What seems like years in the past would only be seconds in the future, and as we move into the Fifth Act, you'll get more than your fair share of those younglings. Perhaps...a little on their history would be more apt?

The Twelve come from vastly different backgrounds, almost as different as that of the twelve...predecessors, if you may call them, whom you see right now. The City of Night is as heavily segregated as the City of Light - even more so, in fact. Classes and colors mean so much more in the kingdom of the Night, which could almost indeed be called the City of Light's darker twin. Castes are assigned at birth, rather than trialed at thirteen - the most privileged are able to don a royal purple and wait in line for the throne. Down and down the spectrum goes, cooling into blues and green and then reddening again into a brown; from Prince to Heir to Sylph to Page. The Maid, at a deep mahogany the color of rust, is the lowest ever acknowledged; the class of worthless stone below it get no recognition and all the hate.

There are twelve classes. And twelve children, one from each class, are brought together to play a game.

A game...of proportions far more severe than any ordinary game.

We had twelve children learning to get along with each other, set up by forces beyond their control. There were good friendships, naturally; the Rogue spoke up against the class system, a middle-classed lass protecting a Heir amongst the nobility, and he returned the sentiment. Even the outcast thrust into the caste of sinners by no fault of his own found support and solace, albeit rather dysfunctional-seeming ones.

Those with romantic inclinations hoped that the game would bring their object of affections closer, and those with rivalries ignited their pitch blackness into a burning inferno. The Prince and the Thief had a relationship purely for business purposes - not unlike their counterparts in the past. How history loves to repeat itself! However the one the Prince lusted for was still the only one out of his reach, but instead a princess atop a throne she wished to descend from. I could go on and on about these two, and the complication relationships that extended out to the whole team! But surely, you must be bored by now.

There was much cajoling to get the full two teams of six each needed for a session of the game, and it started as simple frivolities- of course. Some harmless roleplaying to break the ice and draw them in so they wouldn't be able to back out. Admitedly, our games aren't very fair or considerate towards our players, but the reasoning of the cosmos is certainly beyond our control. I can only give them my condolences when tragedy strikes - as it always inevitably does. A game that hangs so much on the balance simply must come with a price.

Everyone has an important job to do. And theirs was to set the stage for the next stage of the game, to prepare it for after they would past the baton on. They were not to know this, not until the end - not until their leader demanded so. Their oxymoron of a leader, the lowest scum of the earth rising up to unite and lead the two teams through the path of least collateral damage; the leader who was, despite being crabby and aggressive and short-tempered, made his priority not winning but the survival of his followers.

By then, when they were breaking into the highest security buildings and fabricating whole identities for the next players to slip snugly in - things that would, if done with a different purpose, have caused great harm to society. And they knew it, naturally wanting out. At that point, it had been quite the smooth session. Fewest deaths I'd ever seen. Only one blinded, one crippled, one with loss of senses and limb.

I think, if they continued the game with the same spirit, they would have won. Since they needed...additional motivation, I think the game decided that their trials needed to be more challenging. The game has the most absurd of senses.

For such an exemplary performance, everyone gets their prize - but long after their need for it has expired. Perhaps the suffering of a few is the price any universe has to pay simply for existing. It is unfortunate, but comparatively speaking I've seen a lot worse.

The lady of rust wished for knowledge; knowledge of the voices and spirits that constantly plagued her conscience. Her friend, settling for bronze all his life - wanted a change. Ambition, confidence, the courage to shoot for silver and gold and royal blue and the most exquisite tyrian purple and beyond.

Mr. Caste of Gold, ever the multi-faceted one. Gold is far from the best here, although that isn't the point. It's not easy, trying to maintain any form of consistency when there are so many sides of you fighting for dominance. In fact, it's not even easy trying to keep up a facade, even a badly disguised one full of over-the-top aggressiveness. I must say, his grey friend did a sloppy job, but what can you expect from one of his discriminated background? I'd be placating and label that boy a child of iron, then. He needs to be as strong as metal, and stronger. A wish for equality will not save him, although it would be a load off his back.

He isn't the only one longing for equality. A girl who has quite the crush on him similarly dreams of the day where everyone would live in harmony, where there was no unescessary violence or oppression or seeing the boy of her dreams being kicked around. Another girl who spends her days in the shadows, working quietly and obediently with the composure of a piece of jade, as her future job would dictate. She waits for a chance to shine that will never come, would not have come if not for our game.

A third who wants justice, who wants the presecution of those who bribe their way out of punishment; but that dream has been recently replaced by a more pressing one. You can't hunt down felons if you can't even see, can you?

Is it her blindness that causes the teal child to be oblivious to the fact that her close friend is very much off the righteous track? The...ally, I guess, the ally with the heart of cold hard cobalt. Who doesn't understand why the world shuns her so, before turning around and burning up more bridges with those around her. Contradictory, that one. Terribly amusing to watch - yes, your disk is coming along fine. The scratches were more extensive than I thought - am I boring you with my ramblings? I hope not.

The blue noble who looks after the Rogue - he doesn't have much to say that wouldn't break a self-imposed rule of some sort. It's hard being nobility. He does want to be able to do what he wants without the restraint of class, though. Care for his middle-class girl without fear of tongues wagging, staying true to himself by saying what he wants and going where he fancies. Is it a thing among nobles? To wish for the freedom of the lower classes?

The indigo boy one tier above wants freedom, too. Freedom to discover what he truly is inside. He doesn't like the influences the outside world gives him. I don't like the look of all that substance he consumes.

In retrospect, I should have mentioned the Prince along with the Thief - aside from being rivals, they do share the same desire to be accepted. The same pushing away of who is to blame for their isolation and general unapproachability. He seems to be looking for some form of relationship, though. (Adolescents are so strange.) A relationship with the princess perhaps, the one waiting in line for the throne and rather disliking most of that wait. Dealing with so many expectations is no small feat. She has been strong, but not strong enough. Really, she is the first to get her wish fulfilled - be a commoner, for once. Live a life where you think about the ups and downs of each day instead of having to fret for the nation. The game drags her down from that pedestral, and with all the friends she has made - she benefits the most, I'd think.

As for the rest of them, they all got their prizes, yes. Some appreciate it. Some don't, not now. The timing, I must say, was absolutely horrid; but I suppose that was the point the game wanted to prove.

Be careful what you wish for.

Your disk? Yes, you'll get it back in due time. I'm almost done - 'almost' is such a relative word, though. Let's be more specific; a few more chapters, perhaps?