God damn it, I just made it past Styx for the first time and frankly I was already in a foul mood, and learning that all important fact about the Galaxy is NOT what I needed… Meaning this is worthless drabble really…

I'm so pissed… Oh yeah, I chose Elicoor and went to Ariglyph… Shoulda gone to the other one… with Whipple on it.

Real

The sky above so dark and cold, shades of conflicting grays swirling amidst tides of blue as tiny fragments of silver waft down from the heavens. Crystallized shards of ice and water, each one as unique as a human fingerprint, or… are they?

The harsh winds erode this young world, sending the mesmerized inhabitants fleeing towards their sheltered homes. Those tiny slivers of the roiling sky landing gracefully upon their backs too enter the warmth and lose those defining qualities. Melting once more into pure untainted waters which seep through the fibers of clothing; no frayed edge too small for those eager fingers of former ice. But, does it even happen?

Within those pockets of warmth lies hearty food and sweet drink, made to content the working man whom slaves each day to survive. Warm fires crackle invitingly, shedding warm, yet faltering light across hewn stone and the callous surface of their mortar bonds. Wooden floors darkened with age, scuffed from the soles of so many hardened boots. Polished planks stripped from mighty trees, sparse crops dotting this cold, harsh landscape. That is, if the land's even here…

The air, this wind is all so cold, my fingers and toes numb as my nose feels ready to drip. I look down at these hands I can feel growing sore in the snowfall, four slender appendages which curl down over a flat, square-shaped area, a fifth digit which moves from side to side, allowing this limb to grasp and hold items. Hardened bits of carotene and cartilage on the back of each fingertip, along with scant webbing between each finger are both signs of evolution; the widely accepted theory of origin.

Symmetrical, that's the word we've come to use. Identical, two sides the same, balanced. Ten fingers to each hand, two hands one on each side, two arms with flexible joints, two shoulders which connect fingers, hands, lower and upper arms together at the collar bone. A cage of bones which is the same on both sides, protecting the four-chamber heart, two chambers to each side, the twin kidneys, and the identical lungs.

A complex make up of bone and tissue, fed by blood, a crimson substance made of the oil-like Plasma, white malleable blood cells, red ones filled with Iron and the Oxygen-gathering Hemoglobin. Platelets the Proteins which help to clot blood and heal wounds, hormones which transfer genetic coding, DNA, to various parts of this body at specific times.

That air, it's so cold as it flows from my nose down my throat, moving down tube after flesh-coated tube. Each portion branching off at seemingly random intervals, becoming smaller and finer at each junction until gas and liquid become one. Life-giving oxygen swept away by the red blood in my veins, coursing through each and every portion of this form.

It is the source of life, were I to stop breathing; in a few short minutes I would collapse, unconscious here in the snow, a safety device utilized by the Human body which prevents self-suffocation. Were I to land face-down though, perhaps in a puddle, then in a coma like-state I would be unable to restart my breathing. The electrical current running through the fibers of my brain would fail to connect, memories could be lost, sever damage done. Eventually there would be too little oxygen in my blood, my heart would cease to pump.

And thus, I would die. But would that even matter? I'm not even… real… Just a… program… a game… A series of ones and zeros read by a computer, an image in a Three Dimensional world meant for the entertainment of a Four Dimensional one… Just an image, a character: that means that once I was merely a drawing on a pad of paper, with someone randomly adding to my appearance. How my hair falls, the path my tears take, how I stand when angry as opposed to carefree, even my memories and voice. All of which is nothing more than a preplanned ideal…

"Maria?"

I look up at the voice; I've been staring at these useless, imaginary hands this whole time. My cheek wet and icy from the binary snow which is clumped together in my wet hair; as I turn my programmed gaze towards the unreal speaker. These computerized eyes meeting only the textured grey of his shirt, before I look up slightly too see Fayt's worried expression.

I don't even know who to call out to! Is Fayt even real?

"You don't have to say anything." He says softly, shaking his head from side to side as he holds up one gloved hand. I don't know why he does that, until I see the small white cloth he's offering me, and notice that not all of the water across my face is from the snow. "It's alright," he says softly to me, watching as I take the small cloth and dab at my eyes. For some reason it feels both soft and warm, even though none of this truly exists.

"Thanks," I mutter softly, my chest feeling tight and my throat sore as I hand the handkerchief back to him.

"Don't worry about it, everyone's having a hard time with this." He replies quietly, his fingers grazing mine as he accepts the item, tucking it back into one of the pockets in the wider section of his pants. He doesn't meet my eyes as he speaks, cobalt bangs obscuring his face as I believe his words. Even though Fayt's putting on a brave face, I know his mind is reeling as well. The silence between us forms and stretches for a while the wind still blowing chill around us, like a wall before he turns to the side slightly, bringing his arms out in front of him to stretch his shoulders out.

"Well, I think the others are getting ready to leave soon," He comments, trying to shift the stilted conversation t an easier subject. "We… should figure out where to go from Gemini, the Sphere Company seems like the place to go to stop the Executioners."

"Hmhmm," I mumble, my throat catching as the words don't come out, just the sound as I look at him again, having to rethink what I want to say before it works. "Yeah, we have to figure out why they're doing this." I nod to him to help build my confidence back up; although I'm not sure how legitimate my feels are at the moment… it's just ones and zeros aftera—

"We have to protect what's real to us, don't we?" Fayt questions, looking at me sincerely for a moment, my thoughts tripping over one another as the statement contradicts them. "They created us, but, now we've taken on lives of our own. We have to stop them from destroying our dimension just because we can think for ourselves now." He looks down with a grim expression on his face, waiting a moment before shaking his head from side to side slightly, his dampening hair snapping at his eyes with the motion, a few strands of blue sticking to the sides of his face. What's real… to us…?

"Yeah, Sphere sounds like a good place to go." I agree, nodding my head to him slightly, although my mind is still turning his exact words over again, musing. Fayt nods back at me, a smile tugging at his lips as he makes to look at the grey sky above us,

"It might be too late to head out today," He comments, looking at me again, and then down the small snow-filled alley. I've been standing near the entrance to the Aqueducts, so there hasn't been anyone else around. "I'll talk to Cliff and see if we should stay at the inn tonight, everyone'll meet up there later, alright? Take your time, Maria, I'll tell the others you're just out getting some more fresh air."

"Fayt," I call, making him pause as he turns to start walking back down the slight hill towards the paved streets. Fayt's deep eyes look over at me from over his shoulder, he doesn't say anything though, just waits to see what I want, "Th… thanks…" I murmur, hoping I won't have to repeat the words if they come out to quiet. He just smiles again though and nods his head,

"Like I said, you don't have to worry about it. Just take some time and think thing's through, Maria. It'll all make sense eventually." I don't reply again as he starts walking once more. As he vanishes around a corner I realize that now instead of just being cold from the weather, I'm soaked from it. My sleeves are sticking to me like a second skin as my boots feel sodden, my feet feeling numb as I notice that I've also been standing in a small pile of snow this whole time.

I stomp my feet slightly to try and get the feeling back in them, bringing one frigid hand out to look across it, just like before, only, perhaps not the same way…

What's real to me? Well, I suppose, I find emotions to be very real… Happiness, anger, fear, joy, sorrow, all of them, I feel them and I feel alive. When I feel pain in either body or mind, that's real to me, it gives me a sense of self, instincts kick in and I know I don't want to die. If I don't want to die that means I'm alive, doesn't it? Emotions, are triggered by hormones… which are sensed by the brain through electromagnetic pulses, the same thing goes for the senses, nerves send shocks of electricity to the pain telling it what we're feeling. Hot, cold, soft, hard, rough, smooth, sharp and dull, all of it is converted into electric pulses by the brain.

So… If a computer runs on electricity, and electricity is what keeps the mind running… And if the mind feels emotions, and has a sense of self… If I don't want to die…

Then aren't we all, real?

But, then again, after a month or so, I've come to realize that the game DOES IN FACT get better after Styx. I just… can't beat Luther yet is all… Stupid hand-wing-thingies…