<<set $what = "yes">>\n<font class=blueboldtext>"What do you mean by 'hanged'?"</font> you ask in earnest, hoping the footsteps will stop-- and they do. He said you were <i>hanged</i>, that you somehow survived a hanging? What did that mean? As frightening as it is to have to ask this, you need to know what it is he means by that. You're supposed to be dead, and you're still alive.\n\nYou feel a hand press against the bottom of your chin; the young man expertly finding where to lift it, even in the pitch black room. <font class=redboldtext>"You don't <i>remember</i>? We slipped a noose around your neck, pulled a lever, and you <i>dropped</i>. You should know what the problem I have now is, shouldn't you? The problem is, you were left dangling from a rope for four hours. And you're still wasting air. So it stands to reason that hanging isn't going to <i>kill</i> you. It stands to reason that I need to find out what <i>will</i> kill you."</font>\n\nA shuddering breath escapes your lips as you try to figure out how to make him understand-- How to tell him you are most likely no longer the person they tried to execute.\n\nYou only see [[one option]] before you.
You still can't see anything. The room is pitch black.\n\nYou consider [[getting up|Stand]] and having a look around, but then you think perhaps if you [[wait there|Wait]] long enough, someone will eventually come in for you.\n\nWhat do you do?
It hurts too much. You think the stabbing is the worst part at first, but then as everything that got cut grows back, you realize that you want the initial stabbing back instead.\n\nIt hurts too much to speak. You let out a whimper instead as you start to [[cry|Next]].
No, that's not right. Not 'Rackets'. Uh. Hm. This is a terrible dilemma, not being able to remember something simple like this. You could [[ask Gwyn]], but then you think you'd look even more pathetic than before. \n\nMaybe you could try recalling [[on your own]] again. It worked for the Greek name Gwyn keeps calling you.
You keep crying.\n\nYou continue to cry, and he continues trying to kill you. It's always worse when you're healing than it is when he's inflicting damage. Eventually, you just wish he'd succeed already. You've given up on trying to tell him you don't remember anything. You just want him to finish you off.\n\nIt's worse when he moves on to poisons. By then, you take them willingly, hoping maybe <i>this</i> one will just <i>give him what he wants</i> so this can be <i>over</i>.\n\nIt's never over.\n\nThrough all of your suffering, it's never over. The young man grew to an old man, and still it isn't over.\n\nOne day, you see a [[light|Stage 2]].
<<silently>><<set $waited = "no">><<endsilently>>You lie on the floor of a room that is cold and damp. You are covered by a heavy blanket, and there is a small pile of cloth beneath your head. It feels as if something is around your foot.\n\nThe lack of sound suggests you are alone.\n\nIn fact, it's almost too quiet. As if someone IS nearby and simply isn't moving. You can't see anything through the blanket, however, and should consider [[throwing it off|Darkness]].
Racket, racket... They <i>make</i> a racket, but that isn't their name. Crack it. Crack it?\n\nNow you feel like you're onto something.\n\nCrrrrr....\nicket!\n\nCrickets.\n\nYes. Good.\n\n[[Crickets]].
You shrink back into the corner as far as you can go.<<if $who eq "yes">><font class=blueboldtext>"Please-- I really don't know-- I'm sorry-- I don't know who I am or why I'm here-- Please, don't--"</font><<endif>><<if $where eq "yes">><font class=blueboldtext>"Please-- I really don't know-- I'm sorry-- I don't know where this is, who I am, or why I'm here-- Please, don't--"</font><<endif>><<if $what eq "yes">><font class=blueboldtext>"Please-- I really don't know-- I'm sorry-- I don't know who I am or why I'm here-- Please, don't-- I'm not the same, I don't have to die--"</font><<endif>>\n\nThat was a terrible option that got you nowhere. It didn't matter what you said; he still plunged a large knife into your heart. You think it's a knife anyway. You're in too much pain to really contemplate it.\n\nWhen he pulls it out, you lie back down on the floor and [[try to speak]].
You cover your weakened eyes until they're ready to adjust to the lantern that is being held by a young woman. 'Young' feels like a catch-all descriptor by now. Everyone must be young compared to you. You never had much time to ponder on how old you must appear now, what with your blind "friend" and his onslaught.\n\nYou reach a hand toward the light, and it's as young and as healthy as it had ever been, albeit a lot paler than you remember-- You <i>do</i> remember a few things now. You remember the day you were hanged. You remember looking out at the mass of people who came to watch. You remember falling. You remember being unable to breathe.\n\nYou remember that it felt like forever, but it doesn't compare to your stay here. It couldn't compare.\n\nYou're getting lost in your head, until the woman starts to speak. <font class=gwyntext>"Sleep well... Athanasios?"</font> Is that a rhetorical question?\n\nNever mind that. Is that name Greek? Do you speak Greek? You must speak Greek. Why else would that name sound like a word you knew?\n\n[[Rack your brain|Remember]] for the answer while trying not to recollect being on an actual rack. The rack never helped you remember before, why would it now?
You arrive at a small, unimposing house hidden away in the dark forest. The floors inside are made of wood, and your focus remains on them while Gwyn shows you around. The grain of the wood swirls in an interesting pattern, and now you're barely paying attention to what she has to say. Shame on you.\n\nThe final room she shows you has a bed made from feathers, and little else. <font class=gwyntext>"This is where you'll be sleeping."</font> You nod, to show her you've been listening, even though you really haven't been.\n\nIt's night. You think you should [[go to sleep]].
You meet a wonderful woman named Julia Lawson, dancing at a party hosted by one of your friends. You're not too close to this set of friends, not close enough to tell them anything, anyway. You've become a little more secretive over the years, but Julia is someone you told as soon as you possibly could.\n\nWithout her thinking you belong in some sort of facility, of course. Admittedly, you married her first before you ever said anything, and only when she eventually asked why you still looked the same as you did when the two of you met.\n\nYou have kids. Four of them. As hard as you try to push the thought to the back of your mind, it nags at you that your children are bound to die and you never will. Brian, Connor, Dylan, and little Ellen, will all be gone and you do your best to make them the happiest four people on the planet.\n\nNext to Julia, of course, whom you sometimes reassure that you will never leave for someone younger. Usually, you only say that when she asks about it.\n\nYou stay together for 60 years. You're there with her until the very [[end]].\n\nThis is a scene you've played out several times before. You sit at the deathbed of someone you care about, holding her hand until she eventually passes on. It was never your wife before. Never the mother of your children.\n\nGetting this close to someone is like injuring your own psyche, and you keep doing it. Your babies will go just like this, and you're going to be there with them, holding their hands as they leave this world.\n\nYou're quite the glutton for punishment, you start to think.
FIN\n\n[[Go back to start|Start]]?
<font class=redboldtext>"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"</font> A short chuckle escapes the young man as he draws closer.\n\nPerhaps you should [[ask]] him something.
That's better. There's nothing like the feel of the cold, hard ground. It's not that cold, but you know what you mean by 'cold, hard ground'. You drift off to sleep in a matter of minutes.\n\nIn later days, you make the attempt to help Gwyn. Cleaning, attempting to cook, anything you can do. Gwyn, too, grows old, and you do your best to take care of her in her final days. You accept that she will pass before your eyes, but that doesn't do much to dull the pain you feel when she does.\n\nYou spend a lot of your time afterward as a [[hermit]].
<<set $who = "yes">>\n<html><font class=blueboldtext>"Who am I?"</font></html> You ask this question in earnest, hoping the footsteps will stop-- and they do. They stop, and the young man pauses for a good, long while. You start to wonder if he's ever going to say anything.\n\n<html><font class=redboldtext>"What game are you trying to play here?"</font></html> You can't see him, but you can <html><i>feel</i></html> him glaring at you as he finally speaks. His tone has grown angrier with you, and you're willing to assume he'll be far less patient than he was before, and he wasn't going to be patient at <i>all</i> before.\n\n<font class=blueboldtext>"I'm not playing a game, I swear, I--"</font>\n\n<font class=redboldtext>"Quiet."</font> This word is coupled with a loud stomping of his boot. You <i>assume</i> it's a boot, in any case. The sound of boots hitting stone is a familiar one, although you may not know why.\n\nYou start to sink back into the corner, allowing the walls on each side to cradle you like a scared child. How does he maneuver in this darkness? That... That is a question to which you may never be able to hear an answer. \n\n<font class=redboldtext>"You. You take my mother. You take my <i>sight</i>. Now you take me for a <i>fool</i>."</font> He's grown quiet, and yet he still sounds clear as the purest of crystals. Now you know how he's handling the darkness.\n\nIt turns out he stopped his approach... once he was already close. Now you feel the undeniable presence of a body looming just above your own.\n\nNow you're frightened. There is only [[one option]] you can take here.
You're pathetic anyway, so you suck it up and gather the courage to ask Gwyn. <font class=blueboldtext>"Gwyn, I... I've been bouncing all around my brain, trying to remember what the names of those chirpy things are, the ones that make such a racket? I was thinking they were called 'rackets' which is horrifically silly. That's what they <i>make</i>, not what they <i>are</i>. I can't remember my own name, so I guess it's not surprising I don't remember theirs? And it's not at all pitiful or sad, right? Because I'm not sad, you know, Gwyn. I'm not miserable or pathetic. I'm okay, see? I'm smiling. A smile means everything is okay."</font>\n\nYou smile wider as if that will prove your point.\n\nGwyn's pitying eyes only get worse, and you can't understand why. Why doesn't she believe you? Why can't she also say you're okay?\n\n<font class=gwyntext>"They're called crickets, Athanasios."</font> Her voice is still gentle, but it's on the verge of breaking. She knows, doesn't she? She has to know what happened in there. That's why she won't just say you're okay, because you're not okay and you can't be.\n\nYou're not allowed to be okay, are you?\n\nMaybe you should focus on something else. Like the [[crickets|Crickets]].
You get sent to a permanent residence elsewhere in New York, at the feds' request. Emphasis is put on <i>permanent</i>, which is inordinately silly. A single structure couldn't possibly last that long, and it's even sillier to think you'd never <i>move</i> in all that time.\n\n[[Fast forward a few decades|Fast Forward]]...
You shield your eyes as Gwyn takes you outside, expecting the sunlight to pierce your vision. However, the sight of the full moon through your fingers makes you want to smack yourself. You took the precaution of shielding your eyes for nothing. You think you must be so pathetic right now.\n\nYou hear chirping noises all around. What were those things called again? You keep racking your brain for answers-- thankfully not literally racking it. That would be impossible. Nobody has a rack that small. Right, you need to focus now. Those chirping things. The bugs. What are those called?\n\n[[Rackets]]?
You turn your full attention to the woman now. No more distractions. You're not sure what to do, until you realize she only has the lantern in hand. She's not here to hurt you. Maybe. You hope so.\n\nYou smile softly at her. You'd like to wave, but you're still terrified. You're too scared to move.\n\nYou'd like to try [[asking for her name|Ask1]].
Forgotten
You wait.\n\nIt feels like you've been waiting for hours. The silence, the <html><i>nothingness</i></html> doesn't help with that feeling. Time is passing slower than it would have if you had any source of light, anything to truly <html><i>base</i></html> the passage of time upon.\n\nMaybe you should [[stand up|Stand]] and feel around to get your bearings.\n<<set $waited = "yes">>
You follow the government agent to a secure facility you-don't-know-where. He sits you down and starts to ask you questions. <font class=agenttext>"Your name. It's 'Ah-thuh-nay-sios', correct?"</font>\n\nHe's only seen it written. You can hardly blame him for the pronunciation difficulty. <font class=blueboldtext>"With a long 'A' sound instead, sir, yes."</font> Your correction isn't well-received, with a shrug and a flip of his papers.\n\n<font class=agenttext>"And how old are you?"</font> You start to think back to the age you used back on the island. You're... 25? Give or take a few hundred years.\n\n<font class=blueboldtext>"I'm 25 years old, sir,"</font> you reply. <font class=blueboldtext>"What is this about?"</font>\n\nThe agent pinches the bridge of his nose. Is 25 not the answer he's looking for? Does he already know? How could he already know? You never told anyone outside of your town. <font class=agenttext>"I'd like you to reconsider your answer, 'Atha'."</font>\n\nYou start fidgeting in your seat. <font class=blueboldtext>"I lost count during the dark ages, sir."</font> Your words spill out like water from a breaking dam.\n\nHe lets out a hum and moves on. <font class=agenttext>"So back to your name. That your real name?"</font>\n\nThe concept of a 'real name' throws you back in your seat. Demons are told to have 'true names' that could be used to control them. You're not sure where you heard that myth, and you've never <i>seen</i> a demon as far as you can remember. You're not a demon, however, and you may have had a birth name at some point, but you haven't had one since you were supposed to be executed in approximately 500 AD. The name Gwyn gave you, as far as you are aware, is the only name you have. <font class=blueboldtext>"It's the only name I've ever gone by, sir, so I should hope so. I don't think it's my birth name, however, sir; I'm not Greek. The woman who gave it to me was half-Greek, and I had no name before that. It's a long story."</font>\n\nThe agent sighs as you ramble on, giving you the cue to stop rambling so he can get on with his questions. He starts asking what your capabilities are. What you can withstand.\n\nYou've always considered yourself frail, but you know it's not the pain of getting hurt that stops you in your tracks. It's the regeneration process. Over the years, you've learnt that the regeneration process in question doesn't happen if you're simply hurt. It only happens when you're dealt a fatal blow. You've suffered for days with poisons until they finally proved themselves 'fatal', and the regeneration process finally expelled the poison from your body and healed the damage.\n\n<font class=blueboldtext>"I don't withstand anything, sir. I fall and I stay down."</font> You're smiling. You can't help it; smiling is your go-to expression when it comes to sadness. Maybe you're a little backward in thinking so, but you still believe that if you put on a smile, everything will eventually be okay. Someday, you'll be okay, too.\n\nHe continues to ask you questions. What could you <i>survive</i>?\n\nEverything.\n\nYou try, and you try to tell him that you wouldn't make a good soldier. You wouldn't make a good test subject. You just want to try getting a job and doing the task you're given. That's all.\n\nWales never treated you like this.\n\nHe eventually [[excuses you]] once you've given him a large enough headache that he compares in size to Russia. Good work.
You could help it enough to keep yourself from crying, but you can't help yourself when it comes to wrapping your arms around Gwyn and squeezing. Weakly, mind you. You're still frail from being locked up for... however long you were locked up. You consider asking Gwyn how long you've been in there, but ultimately decide against it. Her pity would double. Or triple.\n\nEven if she didn't start pitying you more than she already does, you don't really want to hear the answer.\n\nGwyn gives you a curt pat on the back. <font class=gwyntext>"We are nearly there. Only a little farther."</font>\n\nYou look out into the distance, spotting a [[small home tucked away in the trees|Arrival]]. <font class=blueboldtext>"Is that it there?"</font> You point toward the shack in the distance.\n\nGwyn stares at you as you walk toward it, until finally, she flatly states, <font class=gwyntext>"It's impossible to see the house from here. It's too dark."</font>\n\nYou can see it perfectly well. Her statement merely serves to befuddle you beyond words.
Your lip quivers as you try to make words come out of your mouth. However, the words don't come. You're practically petrified.\n\n<font class=gwyntext>"Athanasios, can you speak?"</font> For once, you can finally see the expression on the face of the person you're attempting to talk to. Hers is starting to droop, and it gets droopier the longer you sit in silence. It hurts. Watching her expression turn into pity hurts so much. You wish the blind man was back. He never showed an expression like this. You're sure... <i>This</i> is what will kill you; the pity of another human being.\n\nYou're still breathing. Her pity isn't going to kill you, not literally, but you're sure if she keeps this up, you're going to be dead inside.\n\nYou can scream plenty. You can cry. It stands to reason that you can talk.\n\nSo [[talk]].
You can... vaguely remember learning Greek during a stay there. You can't remember how old you were, or what Greece looks like, but the language stuck. If only you could remember why you deserve this.\n\nNo, you need to try to focus. That name, it... it means... It takes the base word 'Thanatos', adds 'alpha' and...\n\n"Immortal". She's calling you "Immortal". It's safe to say that's not your birth name. Would you <i>recognize</i> your birth name if anyone said it to you? No, you don't think so. Maybe the blind man said it once and you couldn't recognize it.\n\nThe blind man-- He eventually figured it out. That you were telling the truth. That's why, in the end, his voice was flat. He didn't have the anger anymore. He just did his job, in the end. Well, not really. His job was to kill you. Technically, he never did his job when he was doing his job.\n\nDid he figure it out because you didn't recognize your own name? You think that's the most pathetic thing you've ever remembered thinking. Then you think you should be paying attention to [[the woman in the room|Gwyn]].
You fill out your papers, you get on a boat, and you go to the colonies. It's nowhere near the paradise most other travelers believed it was, with its citizens shouting English commands at people who don't speak English. Barbaric. That's what this practice is.\n\nYou start thinking that the Americans are looking for any excuse to keep people from living there.\n\nNever mind that, you need to focus. You need to show them the side of you that isn't completely broken.\n\nStill, despite your eccentricities, you're allowed to stay. You don't know exactly why you're allowed to stay yet, but you're too grateful to care.\n\n[[Little do you know]]...\n
Crickets. That's right, the bugs are called crickets. Thinking about them is better than thinking about whether or not you're pathetic or whether or not you're okay. Because you're not okay, and you don't want to think about that anymore.\n\nThe stone beneath your feet turns to grass before you realize it. You forgot how grass felt-- Or to be more accurate, the you of today never felt dew-covered grass in-between his toes. It's squishy and wet and you've never felt better. You're going to [[cry]], aren't you?\n\nIf you can forego that, you're at least going to [[hug]] Gwyn. She deserves a thank-you.
<<if $waited eq "yes">>You're sick of waiting around, doing nothing while the silence seeps into your mind like unwanted waste.\n<<endif>>\nYou begin to stand up, when the thing you felt around your ankle pulls you back down again. Further inspections reveals it to be a thick, metal cuff attached to the wall. If you could remember anything about who you were, you'd have a much higher chance of knowing why you're currently chained to a wall, but as it is, you don't have the foggiest idea.\n\nHowever, your initial thought that someone <html><i>was</i></html> there and was simply hiding in the shadows turned out to be true. The noise you made as you inspected the chain prompted the slow <html><i>creeeeak</i></html> of an older wooden chair to your opposite side.\n\n<html><font class="redboldtext">"You were meant to die,"</font></html> says what sounds like the voice of a young man, his tone filled with malice. Whatever you did to get in here, it wasn't good-- Bad enough for whoever it was to want to kill you. <html><font class="redboldtext">"We <i>hanged</i> you, and yet here you are. Breathing. What sort of devil's deal did you make, swine?"</font></html>\n\nYou have no idea what he's talking about. You can sit in [[silence]], or you can [[ask]] him something.\n
Footsteps draw closer to you. What are you going to ask this man, in the hopes that he will understand your memory is lost?<<silently>>\n<<set $where = "no">>\n<<set $who = "no">>\n<<set $what = "no">><<endsilently>>\n\n[["Where am I?"|Where]]\n[["Who am I?"|Who]]\n[["What do you mean, 'hanged'?"|What]]
You lie down on the bed, and you feel like you're drowning in it. It's like sleeping in liquid compared to what you're used to. You try to sleep, but you can't get over the feeling that it isn't safe to.\n\nYou inevitably [[roll off the bed]] and onto the hard, wooden floor.
<<set $where = "yes">><font class=blueboldtext>"Where am I?"</font> You ask this question in earnest, hoping the footsteps will stop-- and they do. They stop and you can hear the barking sound of laughter coming from the young man, who is now a lot closer than he was before.\n\n<font class=redboldtext>"<i>'Where are you'</i>? Hard to tell when you can't <i>see</i>, isn't it?"</font> You feel the undeniable presence of another person, and he only leans in closer as the seconds pass. \n\nHis next words are a whisper, but in the quiet room, they are clear as an untarnished crystal. <font class=redboldtext>"It's something you and I can have in common now. Do you remember? That day you took my sight from me? Oh. I'm not bitter. I'm not living my days out as uselessly as you thought I would; you did always say all I was good for were my eyes. Now? I'm better than I've ever been. But the question isn't 'Where are you'. It's 'Where do you <i>think</i> you are'."</font> He paused. Perhaps waiting for you to answer.\n\nWhere do you think you are?\n\nOf course, any answer other than 'a prison' sounded silly. Where else could you be? <font class=blueboldtext>"A prison..?"</font>\n\nHe isn't responding. He's still waiting for you to answer. Does he want something more specific? You start thinking this would be easier if you had facial cues to go off of. <font class=blueboldtext>"I... I don't know. I don't know!"</font>\n\nHis whispers grow quieter. <font class=redboldtext>"Oh? Do I need to jog your memory?"</font>\n\nNow you're getting frightened. There is only [[one option]] you can take here.
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You can't help it. Here comes the waterfall. Sometimes happiness gets to be a little bit overwhelming... or perhaps you're also worried about what <i>he</i> would think if he knew you were happy. Would he be okay with this?\n\nGwyn leads you forward without saying a word, and you start thinking that you have to find a way to thank her. Somehow. You don't know if you have any skills. You <i>don't</i> have any skills. Forgetting everything tended to do that.\n\nBut you're digressing, and you're bawling to boot.\n\nYou find that you can't see all that well through the downpour, but you think that you'd navigate fine even if Gwyn wasn't guiding you. You also think that you'd be lying down and staring at the stars instead of walking if Gwyn didn't guide you.\n\nMore digression.\n\nYou spot the [[blur of a house|Arrival]] in the distance, a small abode tucked away in the wilderness.
You find your home in the slums of New York, crammed in with several other families. That is, until an agent of the American government calls for you. Should you just say 'the government'?\n\n[[When in Rome]]...\n
You gather up your energy. You gather up some courage, too. You have to remind yourself that she just wants to talk. That's all. It's okay. Maybe... maybe it's all over. Maybe she'll let you go. You just have to talk. That's all. You can talk.\n\n<font class=blueboldtext>"Um... H...Hell...o."</font> \n\nYou tried.\n\nNo, why is her pitying gaze getting worse? You spoke, didn't you? You start to think it's your fault she pities you. You didn't speak well enough and now she thinks you're pitiful. If you just remembered what you did, if you just died like you were supposed to, you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't feel her pity stabbing you in the chest like that cruel blade.\n\nYou have to try harder.\n\nYour smile widens and you begin to move out of the fetal position, attempting a more open stance. When you smile, you almost feel like everything is actually okay.\n\n<font class=blueboldtext>"May I know your name, miss?"</font> That's better. No frightened pauses now. That's something to be proud of.\n\nThen why? Why did she still have that horrible look on her face?\n\n<font class=gwyntext>"My name is Gwyn,"</font> she replies, softly. <font class=gwyntext>"My father requested that I retrieve you."</font> She sets the lantern down on the ground, and the illumination leaves her face, now preferring to show you what the stone floor looked like with a little bit of fire nearby. You're not really sure you need a visual of the floor now; you know all of its little grooves and bumps.\n\nYou turn to the sound of metal hitting stone. You still feel the cuff around your ankle, even if looking at it tells you the two are now separated. You tremble, but you make a point not to cry. If she pities you now, then she'll only pity you more if you cry.\n\nGwyn picks up the lantern, beckoning you to follow. Now would be a good time to [[stand up|Following Gwyn]].
Floof
You attempt to remember how to stand up. The blind man tended to grab you by the throat and force you to stand up-- He was just doing his job. You don't blame him at all. None of that is the point and you need to focus.\n\nOkay, your hand was supposed to move like so and then your feet move like so...\n\nOkay. You're standing now.\n\nYour legs feel weak. You start to wobble.\n\nGwyn wraps an arm around you for support, rubbing your shoulder meanwhile. Your smile feels a touch more genuine for her efforts.\n\nShe leads you [[outside]]...
Ages pass you by, as you live off the wilderness and its bounties. Each passing day is always better than the last. Eventually, others begin to settle around you, building a quaint little farm town.\n\nWhen others ask for your name, you always tell them you're called <font class=blueboldtext>"Athanasios."</font> The name Gwyn gave you long ago. Whenever someone in town feels down, you always give them a smile. You always try to help them feel better, help them truly be okay.\n\nThey eventually notice that you aren't aging with the rest of them. For a time, they're not sure what to make of this. As long as you do whatever they tell you, however, they're not <i>too</i> perturbed.\n\nMany generations after the fact, you learn of ships coming to take people away to what was called the '[[new world]]'.
Footsteps draw closer to you.\n\nYou may remain [[silent]], or you may reconsider this stance and [[ask]] him something.\n<<set $silence = "yes">>