CH 1 — The Artist

Being alone was nothing new to Eisbaer. She was used to it and liked to think of herself as adaptable and (mostly) of sound mind. No, that didn’t worry her. What did was the severe shift in circumstances. Such as not being able to logout, or more importantly, the absence of her cozy room and half-finished projects just a table away.

What she needed was a distraction, as sitting around and hoping to be rescued was futile at this point. Days had gone by with her wandering around the confines of the city, as clueless as the next person and having little to show for it. There were people still treating this like one big game, grouping up and striking out to fight monsters and complete quests. She’d be doing the same too, providing support for her reckless brother.

But he wasn’t here. He’d had his hands full with a failing marriage and chronically ill child. Yet despite all that, he was the lucky one. Even though he was the sort who would kill for this very experience. Eisbaer longed to be home, amongst the half-finished dollhouses and an assortment of miniature furniture and food dishes. She’d dedicated many long nights and days to her craft, her biggest coping mechanism, next to the escapism novels and games provided.

The only problem was that her artistic skills did not translate well into the virtual world. Not without extensive practice and adjusting to the lack of tactical sensation.