Chapter 42: Eitr-forged Iron
The blank canvass and the black tower came into his vision. The gate too. There were four of them: north, south, east, and west, nearly impossible to see or notice unless a player was highly observant. Or, in the case of the layman, they took a lap around the tower.
"Please!" Dasha barely had a second to himself before a woman's hands grabbed his collar. "Please! Listen to me! This game isn't a game! It's—my party died! We need to stop this! It's asinine!"
A few players glanced over to him, full of pity. The blonde woman's eyes were outlined in tears, mascara melting down her cheeks.
"Please! Please!" She tugged on his collar more, her head still buried in his chest. Dasha was a tall man, about six-foot-four, so even though the woman was slightly short of average, in comparison to him it was a vast difference. "Just get me out of here! I don't wanna be here anymore!"
Rather than shove her aside coldly, he decided to go for a fake sympathetic approach. He patted her head, intentionally avoiding her silky hair, and said, "I'm sorry." His pats slowly turned into massages through her hair. "I get it. I really do. A friend of mine also passed away here. But this world isn't so forgiving. So can you please look up?"
Bleary blue eyes looked up and it all became clear to him.
"What's your name?" Dasha asked.
"Samantha..."
"You want to grab something to eat, Samantha?" he asked.
"I have no money," she mumbled. "I'm useless."
"You're not useless." Dasha gently pushed her back and unveiled her fetching features. A smooth forehead, a slim nose, firm cheeks, and full lips, on top of pretty blonde hair that fell over her shoulders. She was almost hypnotic in how she sniffed and teared up. "I'll buy."