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Lost But Happy

Summary:

Or: I'm Lost But I'm Not Exactly Happy With All These Swords Being Pointed In My Face

Work Text:

Shane shrieked a bit as he was unceremoniously dumped on the ground. The damn squirrel chattered and ran off in a flash of green.

What the hell. Squirrels weren't supposed to be white. Or magic.

But then again, games weren't supposed to be augmented reality, or transport you to a weird world where monsters attacked you regularly and cute little idiot animals begged you to help them. And he was still shaking glitter from his hair after alchemizing a Magic Girl Paintbrush. The pink that it drew in was really nice, but it shed so much glitter with those little starbursts that it sent out.

This whole concept was just really weird.

All of the sudden, he found a sword shoved in his face.

A sprite was hovering over him, lip curled as it growled. It looked like this one was part human and part dog. It had a collar of amber and gold around it's neck, and an absurdly long sword that it was pointing at him.

“... Good dog...?” he offered weakly.

“That crap ain't working on me, man! State your name, rank and intent!” the red-violet sprite barked.

“Shane Wells, second player in... uh, go home?”

“A likely story!”

“It's a true one?” he said, really hoping he didn't die here.

What a story that would be. Killed by a jerk of a sprite.

It looked like the thing was going to talk more, but stopped, head snapping around and ears perking up. In a flash, the sprite was gone.

Shane slowly sat up.

The sprite didn't come back to harass him, so he stood up fully.

He was sandwiched between one of the tower-houses and a huge blue crystal of some sort. Lots of vines curled across the land, almost choking it. The house was a stormy blue, with dark gray shingles and a single bay window on the ground level. There was a small garden in the front and what looked like a training dummy bleeding stuffing in the back.

Blinking, Shane noticed that he'd landed near something.

A concrete cross, almost swallowed up by the vines wrapping around it.

It looked like something was buried under it, from how stunted the grass was there, and how the ground curved up in a slight bump.

... Would the player of this planet mind if he stepped into their house?

He hoped not.

He hoped the sprite didn't mind.

He pushed carefully into the house, looking around. It was really kind of modest. The living room was the most decked out, with two bookshelves, a shelf of movies, a shelf of records, a record player on a stand with candles and incense burners, a shelf of random little curios, two couches, a large crate serving as a coffee table in the middle of the room, and a stand with a TV on top, and shelves inside holding a VHS-DVD-combo-player, a PS2, and a very old-looking XBox. There was a hand-knit blanket thrown over one couch, with an unopened beer on the floor next to it. It looked like it had been there for quite some time.

Shane noticed there was a door set into the wall of the living room. He knew he shouldn't pry, but curiosity got the best of him.

There was literally no noise as he opened the door. It was unnerving.

It was a study.

In the center of the room was a large desk with a very old and half-destroyed brown leather swivel-chair. The desk had a laptop on it, as well as an old busted desktop computer. A cute Hello Kitty USB attachment thing provided at least four more jacks for things, such as the desk-fan chugging away unrelentlessly. There was a pair of towering CD racks, and a stack of PC games. In the corner of the room was a stack of blankets. Against the back wall was a bookshelf, a large filing cabinet that looked rusty, and a small pyramid of comic book boxes. A small blow-up Godzilla stood atop the pyramid, and assorted action figures that looked like really old vintage things lined the other rows. There were also four typewriters on a shelf along the second wall, with a corkboard covered in photos, restaurant menus, and flyers above them. The window-bearing wall had artwork taped up, covering it's surface. The art ranged from childish to graphic, young to older, all of it hand-done and arranged lovingly, some of it dated and titled. All across the wall of the door were weapons. Swords, spears, axes, tomahawks, whips, daggers, bows and arrows, maces, and morning stars.

This player was... eclectic.

A door slammed, making him jump and tug the door shut.

“Y'can't keep doing this to yourself, sis. What would your old man say?”

That was the sprite. Was he talking to his player?

Curious, Shane pressed his ear up against the door, listening.

“She's dead, so what does it matter?”

“Sis, we have been through this. I'm really gonna hafta tell ya to grit those teeth if you keep this up. Deep breath.”

A sharp hiss made Shane jolt.

“I warned you.”

“You gave me like two seconds to prepare myself!”

“Well, you've been throwing yourself headfirst into hopeless combat situations over and over, maybe if I hurt you you'll stop!”

“I'm sorry I want to get stronger! Is that such a crime, great and mighty Okamina?!”

“If it's harming more than helping, yes! Have you done anything?! Have you found any lore, any tricks?! Have you visited any other lands, or tried accessing your powers at all?!”

“No, because I just don't care any more! What's the point of making people proud if they aren't around for you to do so?!”

An explosion of growls and barks followed by a dull thud sounded. Shane wanted to move, to help, but he was concerned that the sprite would kill him. So he stayed behind the door, wincing sympathetically.

“... Snap out of it...” the sprite growled. “If you can't do it for your old man, then do it for Dev and Mariam. If you can't do it for your old man, then do it for the brats who didn't get the chance to come along and experience the ride, who didn't get the chance to grow up! Get some backbone, sis! You're better than this!”

From under the door, Shane saw a flash of red-violet. The sprite had left.

There was a period of silence, followed by a heavy sigh.

A few footsteps and—

Shane was sent sprawling as the door opened and crashed into his ear.

Once the stars cleared from his eyes, he found a battered and beaten-up blonde pointing a sword at his face, eyes wide in shock.

“... Name, rank and intent...?” he asked awkwardly in the following silence.

“I think intent is now currently to return my dad's study to the way you found it, but yeah.”

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