Yep! I also think it can add some more fun to the game, like you get to explore all the different conversations you have with people and really get to see a different side of Nickelport and its citizens if you so wish.
Ah, whoops! That's definitely not supposed to happen if you haven't said anything yet. Thank you for pointing it out!
Oooh, that is a cool idea! I like it! I'll see what I can do!
Thank you so so so much!
I always feel like I'm bad at responding to these kinda things but seriously, thank you very much! I really appreciate it, and I'm so so happy you're enjoying this as well!
That depends, is it chocolate cake?
Because I'll do it if it's chocolate cake.
Okay, I'd do it even if it wasn't, how could I not? I love writing with these characters.
Anyway, there's some spoilers but I tried to pick a moment that I knew would be spoiler-free... So this is some heavy foreshadowing to stuff that's gonna happen soon but not-quite-letting-you-know-foreshadowing. Also, there's a couple of different ways this scene will be able to go depending on your past relationship with Lucy. This is just one example
(Also due to spoilers it is fairly short, for which I apologize.)
Your back hits the wall, and as the pain blossoms against your spine you just know that it’s going to be one of many bruises you’ll have the… pleasure, of discovering tomorrow. You slide down the side of it, more than a little weary and hurt. You rub your eyes and wince against the harsh slamming noise of the large metallic door being thrown shut. For a moment you can’t quite see anything, shrouded in the darkness of the secluded utility closet. There’s a thin beam of light that emanates from underneath the doorway.
“Lucy?” You call out tentatively into the dark.
“Shut up.” A harsh reply but… granted now really isn’t the time for cordiality. You sigh and your head hits the back of the wall with a dull thump. You let your hand fall from your side to the floor, where it touches, by the texture and feel of it, some kind of broom. Exhausted, you let your eyelids fall closed “I think we’re okay.”
The light turns on, you blink your eyes open and wince as they open right up to the light bulb, pushing yourself into a straighter sitting position, you breath in and take a moment to gather yourself before trying to open them again. Slowly your eyes adjust to the sudden change, and the blurry figure standing in front of you begins to fade back into focused view.
You feel that cold numbness run through to your fingertips once more, and you forget for a moment that you are supposed to breathe, as most humans do. Lucy-no- Valkyrie stands in front of you, her white costume ragged and torn, red seeping slowly through her side, where the bits and pieces of metal jut out from between chainmail-esque armor. Valkyrie, however, seems either unbothered or unaware by the metal in her side. You can’t see her eyes from beyond the half-face mask, but by the scowl on the exposed lower-half of her face, and her stance, she doesn’t look very pleased to see you.
“What are you doing here?” She takes one step forward, hands on her hips and her shoulders pushed back, one finger jabbing towards you. “You shouldn’t be here!”
Well, you can’t rightly say ‘my job’, because that would raise a whole slew of questions that you really… don’t want to get into. Certainly not with her, at least. “Caught in the crossfire?” You try, “I haven’t exactly had the best luck of late.” Well, that part is at least true. More true than you want it to be… but true.
Valkyrie stares at you- or you think she’s staring at you- her head doesn’t move besides the way her scowl seems to deepen, and deepen, the lines by her mouth becoming trenches before, with an exclamation of frustration, she rips off her mask and throws it to the ground. Her hair is a mess, wild and frayed, some parts stick up and out, pulled loose from the taut ponytail, while others seem to float in their own gravity sphere, black strands cover her dark eyes, narrowed and glaring at the ceiling as she tilts her head upwards and runs a hand over her head. She looks tired… or about as tired as Lucy can get.
Her eyes close, hands interlinked atop her head as she breathes in and out slowly, thinking.
“Shut up.” Again, harsh. Lucy’s eyes open slowly, and she looks to you with determination, “Be quiet and follow me.”
“Because I’m going to get you out of here.”
Fun fact: I at first misread your thing and wrote up how you met Lucy at first, then realized the '5 years later portion' and wrote this one as well. Between those two and the rewriting/addition to Lucy's current dialogue I've been writing a lot of Lucy recently...
She's fun to write.