Despite no cushions, the carved and patterned wooden chair was actually quite comfortable, definitely above average. It didn't compare to her boss' padded sofa, but it wasn't meant to. She tried to claim the chair in the same way of the woven basket, but it didn't budge, which was rather unfortunate. Maybe she could try again tomorrow, like there was some sort of daily limit? There were certainly many facets of the virus that she didn't know, so guessing was all she really had going for her. For now, all she could do was learn as much as she could without asking somebody else. Gunmetal grey eyes continued to move from left to right, studying the red panel of her mind. On the left side, a picture of the same woven basket sat.
[Object: Bountiful Basket]
[A hand woven picnic basket that will always provide the best, freshest fruit tailored to the user.]
[Current Data:]
[Dimensions (LxWxH): 30cm x 15cm x 15cm]
[Weight: 0.26 kg]
[Harmony Tier: 5]
[Quality: Flawless]
[Current Owner: Kanashima Belladonna]
For somebody who never had real fresh fruit in their life, it was certainly odd that the basket would know what to give her. In essence, maybe it really didn't, as the first time it gave her two different ones, ones she never had before. Maybe that was its own way of learning what her tastes were, just as she was learning which one she preferred. Even though she didn't mention it at all, the virus seemed to be connected to her more than she thought.
Guess the connection between my system and the simulation runs deep.
In a couple seconds, the box reappeared on her lap much heavier than before. Removing the lid, she picked up one of the fruits inside, silently counting them.
Four, seven, twelve?
Perhaps now that it had an owner, it was more potent. She felt a small pulling force from inside of her towards the heart of the case, maybe that was just it being bound? Or could it be drawing power from inside of her to generate the fruits? Whatever was the case, Kanashima was very pleased with the sight of her new addiction. The basket was truly making good on its epitaph.
Maybe the amount is how much I want at the moment. 'Tailored to the user.' Very cute.
A dozen of the brown innards sat in a pile at the bottom of the fruit vessel, more juice dripping from the corner of her mouth and back into the basket. Despite the mess, she had a soft, satisfied smile plastered across her face. Despite the already horrific encounters in this simulation, her delight and satisfaction in this moment was real. It was the little things that mattered anyway.
Standing up, she set the container on top of the chair. She turned around to face it head on, sticking her hand out. It was a curious object, she could pull it out at will, so why did it have to exist in the plane when it was bound to a person? She didn't know exactly how to do this, but if there was a way to summon it, there'd be a way to store it again. Obviously reaching out wasn't doing the work, so she thought back to when she first collapsed it. The single mental command telling it to download. The subsequent rush as it disappeared into her system.
Download.
Obeying the commands of its new master, the box adorned scarlet outlines once more, converging in the center and taking its tangible sides with it. In just a few more seconds, the Bountiful Basket was no more, and the invisible draw that Kanashima could feel towards the object left with it. Checking her internal storage once more, she saw the woven beauty returned there safely, the same picture and information page being shown to her directly in her eye. The same grin stretched across her face once more. This was one of the few things that she owned, and nobody could take from her.
There was still one more oak door in the main room of the shack that had long gone ignored until now. Exploring the entire shack was her goal, this part just drew the lowest priority for no real reason. Now well fed, rested as much as she could, and relatively okay, it was time to open the final door. What sort of secrets could this quaint hut hold for her? Maybe it would be the fortunes she thought this place was worth.
With a small, elongated creak, the simple door swung open into the extra room. A twin sized bed sat in the back corner of it, the hand carved bed frame matching and integrated with the small nightstand on its other open side. Another one of the metallic mugs sat next to a picture frame and a handheld steel mirror. The bed itself seemed to be hay, straw, and feathers wrapped up in some sort of white cloth, and a blanket that did not seem anywhere near factory produced. It was hard to tell what it actually was, but some sort of expert weaving had to have happened here for such an opulent implement. Kanashima tried to trace and claim it just as she did with the Bountiful Basket, but it fizzled just like the ornate chairs. A thick blanket would've been nice, a serious upgrade to her cold nights with a sheet for protection.
The entire room was warm and cozy, well constructed to handle the coolness of the night. She could only assume that the room would show similar results in the daytime as the rest of the house, as it was also comfortable when she walked in. It was so simple, and yet, it was so much more welcoming and homey than even the place she decided to call home in the real world. This room just had its own peaceful presence, an inexplicable calming aura that, despite giving Kanashima an odd feeling, she couldn't find it in herself to care. There was a nice room all for her, all the sweet amazing fruit for her to enjoy, and the greatest view she had ever seen. Why would she care about some minimal insecurity?
Even the cuts that stung like hell didn't really bother her that much. Sure, her brain told her there was pain in the areas, but somehow, someway, her brain just didn't care in the slightest, as if it was just the most normal thing in the world.
The small silver hand mirror caught her attention first. It had been meticulously crafted, the handle had a smooth finish for a great hand feel, and the end was still fancifully designed. Whoever designed this certainly had a good eye. Holding up to her face, gunmetal grey met the same, staring back at her. It wasn't often Kanashima got to look into a mirror, the sensation was odd to see somebody mimicking each and every movement.
Messy black strands flooded from the sides of her cheeks, sticking to her skin from the humidity and sweat. So close to matching the color of her hair, the bags under her eyes were somehow even more pronounced against her tan skin. The rest of her face was marred with different shallow cuts and small scars healing, all from traversing the brutal woodlands. Despite all of the imperfections, blemishes, and painful reminders of her life, her eyes glistened in recognition.
I look just like Mom. The face is so similar, same sullen eyes too. I guess Morgan got our father's? He must've gotten his bright and kind smile too.
She held it at a few more angles, inspecting herself and her injuries a little bit more. It hadn't been too long since the lacerations to her back and calf, but it already was time to switch out the torn clothes in place. She could use the blanket, but it was incredibly opulent. How was she supposed to destroy such a masterpiece? There had to be some bandages or something nearby.
In the meantime, she still peeled the blood-soaked garments off of her body. At this point, they weren't doing much staying adhered to the gruesome-looking tears in her skin. Her back stung to the touch, and was just barely clotted. Luckily, her calf was doing better, albeit, not by a terrible amount, it too still screamed at her when she prodded at it.
Discarding the fabrics away, the heavy soaked pieces slammed into the nightstand with a hard thud. Absorbing the force, the drawer slid out of the nightstand. As if her pleas with the world were answered, inside were some old, but rather clean bandages. This hut really had everything she needed for a pleasant life, it was hard for her to imagine doing anything else but living here in peace.
In just a few moments, her back and calf were dressed up tightly once more in off white wraps, not budging to her slightly hindered movements. Using the mirror to admire her handiwork, she angled it a few times for each injury. Satisfied, she dropped the mirror back into its original location on the nightstand. With the virus refusing to download this item too, she let out a disappointed sigh. What did a girl have to do to get a cute accessory? Not that she knew anything about cuteness, especially when it came to such an esoteric concept, that being fashion. Forget about looking the part, she could've sold the mirror's fifty or so grams of silver for a pretty kuai.
The metal clattered on the hard wood, knocking the picture frame of similar construction face down. The back had some esoteric symbols engraved into the shiny metal, possibly a language or form of communication. Whatever it was, Kanashima wasn't familiar with the school of knowledge it needed, she never learned anything like this. She never learned much at all, really, never going into schooling beyond the mandated five years. Absolving the symbols to her memory for later, just like the symbols adorning the chairs and various other surfaces in the shack, she took the silver frame by the corner and flipped it over again. This would definitely be something to study. Maybe she could find some real answers back in the real world.
Staring back at the young girl was a man that couldn't possibly have been over the age of twenty. These sort of drop dead gorgeous baby blue eyes contrasted his onyx strands in such a perfect manner. She was sure she had never seen somebody so alluring before, so why did he look so strikingly familiar? Was it the breathtaking eyes, the pitch black hair way too similar to hers, the body shape that was barely hidden by his fitted tailcoat suit? All three, or none of them at all? Her gunmetal grey eyes continued to trace the rather attractive figure in the picture, studying every bit of his pose.
Hang on, is that Morgan?
It answered a few questions, namely why the image of him looked so familiar, but Kanashima could swear her brother had never looked as good as that in his life, she definitely would have remembered that. Besides, they would have never had enough money for such opulent wear. The man was clearly a couple years older than Morgan was when he died. Even if he wasn't dead, this was a simulacrum, the terminal AI specifically crafted this simulation for her. Of course she thought about her late brother a lot, some would say way more than any normal person should, but why would he only appear in a picture then? This would hardly test her, surely. But if it wasn't Morgan, then who in the hell was it?
Frail fingers clasped around a wrinkled forehead, allowing the head itself to rest on the arm rather than the neck. Her eyes made more rounds along the photo, looking at the way he gripped the cup in his hand, the gaze he held with the camera, hell, even the intricate background of wherever the hell he was. It had the same looks and vibes of the fantastical cathedrals in those comics she would see every now and again.
There's no way this is just a screencap of some television. It's too real. And why would the AI pull from something I've never seen before?
Frustrated, she let herself collapse on the bed, one hand holding up the picture as she used her other arm to cover her own forehead, trying not to look back at this single agonizing photograph. Not only was it nagging at her mind, it felt like her core itself, her entire system was drawn to the person himself, not just the piece of photo paper in her hand.
Just who is this Morgan doppelganger? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?
It was the best explanation she had at the moment, maybe this similarity to her beloved brother was the reason behind her inner turmoil. Just because she had the explanation didn't mean the sea of chaos inside calmed down at all.
Tapping her fingertips against the silver frame, she let her nerves brim with electricity once more, just like what happened with the Bountiful Basket, half-expecting it to fizzle just as the past however many attempts, but her eyes lit up with stringy vermillion flashes as they converged onto the silver frame, highlighting the intricate grooves in the design.
Now why, out of all things in this cozy hut, is this one of the items I can download? Oh, but I can't have the mirror? What about those comfy chairs? I just wanted a blanket to wrap myself up in.
[Object: Pompous Portrait ]
[The moment of a man's final goblet of wine captured in time. Whoever framed it must've wanted this to be preserved. A signature is inscribed in the back.]
[Current Data:]
[Dimensions (LxWxH): 12cm x 8cm x 2cm]
[Weight: 0.5 kg]
[Harmony Tier: 4]
[Current Owner: null]
[Quality: Serviceable]
[Download?]
Reading the new information in the holographic eye panel, she squinted at the third header. A lower tier than the basket, or would that be higher? The quality was different too, an unassuming 'serviceable' over the Bountiful Basket's flawless. Did that mean it was in worse condition, because if it was, Kanashima couldn't tell the difference. Did it even matter for something as innocuous as a picture frame?
Exasperated, she managed to breathe out an affirmative. Soon enough, the reddened electrons coalesced into her fingertips again, the same armament notification popping up once more.
[New Armament:]
[Pompous Portrait x1]
[View in storage?]
This time, Kanashima sent a mental command for the window to close, lashing out at the only other thing she could, the simulation and its AI, out of sheer frustration. With the photo stowed away, her recently replenished energy now drained once more, and the comforts of the bed began to lull her inside. She answered the cozy call, allowing herself to be dragged inside of its warm embrace.