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解锁条件：购入[[Ephemeral Page]]曲包<br>解锁要求：采用[[爱丽丝 & 坦尼尔]]通过[[Felis]] | 解锁条件：购入[[Ephemeral Page]]曲包<br>解锁要求：采用[[爱丽丝 & 坦尼尔]]通过[[Felis]] | ||
====中文剧情==== | ====中文剧情==== | ||
她发现自己身处一个平淡无奇，甚至有些灰暗的地方。<br>这是一间医院的房间，有着白色的墙壁和天花板。<br>准确地说，这是一间病房——一个安静的房间，窗外是几只扑扇着翅膀的帝王蝶。<br>而令她惊讶的是，她在片刻之间就认出了这里，她从未意识到的遗失记忆涌入了自己的脑海。<br><br>这里的外面有一座公园。<br>这里的护士们友善而耐心。<br>这里的天气似乎总是晴朗。<br>她几乎一直都住在这里。<br><br>她感到了晕眩，试图将信息都整理一遍，但还未来得及开始，就听到了身后的脚步声。<br>她转过身，看到门边有一个人，他手持一朵绣球花，敞开穿着一件轻薄的带兜帽运动衫，看起来颇有现代感。<br>他在里面穿的是一件T恤，下面是一件宽松的裤子，以及简约而舒适的鞋子。<br>他的表情透露着单纯和安心——她认识这张脸。这个人看来就像是坦尼尔。不过，“他”的名字…… | |||
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“……塞德里克。”<br><br>靠窗的病床上传来了一声虚弱的呼唤。<br><br>年轻人路过她，礼貌地点了点头，然后就走向等待着的那位病人。<br>不用去看那金发娇躯，也不用看那般面庞就知道，那就是她自己。<br>这里是她的回忆，她的名字是爱丽丝。<br><br>塞德里克将鲜花放进了花瓶里。她的原身旁边已经积累了整整一束花。<br>他拉来一张椅子就坐在了她的身旁。他手中并无茶杯，也并无言语。<br><br>“塞德里克……”女孩无力地重复道，一边从床上坐了起来。“我以为你今天要去工作室。”<br><br>“不，不去那里了。我现在自主安排工作时间，爱丽丝”，坦——塞德里克说道。他们的声音听起来很像。 | |||
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“怎么会？你没事吧？”<br>两个人都看向她，然后微笑着。<br>她未加思索就脱口而出。嗯，因为理所当然，她也做不到多加思索。<br>这是一个新的真相世界，即将开始运转。<br>看起来，作为身处记忆片隅的观察者，她只是自发地重复了当初说过的话。<br><br>“你还在写作吗？”塞德里克问道。<br><br>“你还在画画吗？”病弱的女孩问道，嬉笑中又带着些许戏弄。<br><br>“‘我还在画画吗’”，他复读了一遍，他盯着天花板，眼神闪动。<br><br>“你来这儿了！”她笑着回应道。“说真的，我还以为你很忙呢！” | |||
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“我画完了三页”，他面带微笑，自豪地答道。<br><br>“很好！”<br><br>“你呢，一个字都没动吗？”<br><br>“我写了！我写了好多！”<br> <br>“那就让我瞧瞧。我这儿也有一本书……”<br><br>“好啊！”<br><br>女孩把手伸向病床旁边的橱柜。<br>她都把笔记本和餐具放在里面，除此之外，还有一个她不怎么爱使用的平板计算机。<br>年轻人从袋子里拿出一本书。是啊……这本书其实哪里也没有去过，对吧？<br>那都只是编出来的故事……听到的传言……以及美梦。<br><br>两个人开始分享、欢笑、打趣。 | |||
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这四天就这样过去了。<br><br>在四天后，一切都结束了。他们本来以为，就算无法永远活下去，但她至少还有三百六十五天的时间。<br>她并没能在临终时见到他。她在一个清晨感到痛苦，并就此消逝。然后，没有然后了。<br>她只记得有一群人高声喊着她的名字，仅此而已。<br><br>坦尼尔知道这一切。<br><br>这段回忆很漫长。她能感觉到。它涵盖了临终的这段时光，但她并不想看这些。<br><br>虽然她很坚强，但面对这些时还是感到了恐惧。这段回忆中没有任何可以改变的地方。<br>她的健康总是会崩坏，两个人总是独处，而他总是来不及赶赴结局。<br>美梦和故事……只靠许愿是无法变成现实的。<br><br>她在两人欢笑时离开了这段记忆。她不记得这是不是两人最后相处时的样子了。<br>她不想知道。 | |||
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你会死。你已经死了。<br><br>爱丽丝站在画室的回忆中，记起了这件事。<br><br>“坦——”她开始寻找。<br><br>但坦尼尔已经不在了。<br><br>随即，回忆开始淡去。她能猜到这点……就像他说的，他只是仿冒品，当真相被揭晓时，他就大限已至。 | |||
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爱丽丝站在Arcaea的虚空中，用无神的双眼望向前方。<br>万物同时向她发起尖啸。<br><br>这个“位面”是虚假的，这幅“身躯”是空壳，这段“回忆”是捏造的。<br>她的“人生”不是自己的，直至结束也没有什么波澜曲折，更没有陪在身边的哥哥。<br><br>你是孤独的，爱丽丝。<br><br>你孤独至死。 | |||
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回过神来时，爱丽丝发现自己跪在地上，带着手套的手指插在土壤中。<br><br>她感到寒冷。她想要哭嚎，但眼泪却不见踪影。<br><br>她感受着……<br><br>她感受到了。<br><br>“这里是真实的。<br><br>因为你所有的感官都‘认为’这里是真实的。”<br><br>她的脑海中浮现出坦尼尔的话语。 | |||
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她看着自己的手，她看见了。<br><br>她将手套拉紧，她感觉到了。<br><br>她将花朵从发丝间摘下，她听到了，闻到了。她对着花瓣张开了嘴。<br><br>什么才是真实？是我看到的吗？是我尝到的吗？是我摸到的吗？<br><br>如果是那样……<br><br>“爱丽丝”死了，但爱丽丝活着。<br><br>如果坦尼尔只是一段回忆，那么他肯定还存在着。<br><br>以真实而言，她只是个四处游荡的灵魂。<br><br>她一路来到了这里，不是吗？如果不去管所谓的“真相”的话。<br><br>如果是这样……那便还有出路。 | |||
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她一定会找出办法。<br><br>那条来路：通往她一生中最重视她的人。<br><br>至于另一个家伙……<br><br>如果她没法在旅途中再次找到他，他也知道对方的一部分会永远陪伴在自己身旁，留在自己心里。<br>也许她也会开始只泡茶而不喝茶。<br>这份思绪……让她重新露出了笑容，发出了笑声。<br><br>爱丽丝当场下定了决心，她站了起来，手指紧抓着“真相”的碎片：<br>她总是向前看，朝着崭新路途的地平线迈进……<br><br>……她永远也不会忘记是什么带领着她前行。 | |||
====英文剧情==== | ====英文剧情==== | ||
She finds herself in something unremarkable, and even a little dull. It is a hospital room with white walls<br>and ceiling. To be precise: a patient’s room—a quiet room, with monarch butterflies fluttering outside the<br>open window. And, to her surprise, in the moment she recognizes the place, memories she hadn’t realized<br>she’d lost rush into her skull.<br><br>That there was a park outside.<br>That the nurses were friendly and kind.<br>That the weather always seemed perfect.<br>That she nearly always lived here.<br><br>She feels overwhelmed, trying to sort it all, but before she can even begin she hears footsteps behind and<br>turns. There is a person there, at the door, with a hydrangea in hand, presently dressed in a thin and open,<br>hooded sweatshirt. He wears a T-shirt beneath that, looser slacks over his legs, simple and comfortable<br>shoes... and his face. She knows his face. This man is a man who looks like Tenniel.<br>“His” name, however, is... | |||
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“...Cedric.”<br><br>From the bed by the window, a weak voice calls out.<br><br>The young man passes her by, politely nodding as he goes, and he moves to the waking patient. She<br>doesn’t have to see the golden hair, the thin frame, nor the kind face to know: of course, it is her.<br>This is her memory. Her name is Alice.<br><br>Cedric puts the flower he bought in a vase. A true bouquet of them sits beside her original self.<br>He pulls over a chair and sits down beside her. He has no tea in his hands, nor does he ask for any.<br><br>“Cedric...” the girl repeats, groggily, as she sits up in bed. “I thought you were at the studio today.”<br><br>“No, not there. And I work on my own time, Alice,” says Tenn—... Cedric. It sounds like him. | |||
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“How are you? You’re alright?”<br><br>They both look at her, and smile.<br><br>The words had just come out of her without thinking. Well, she could barely think, for what it was worth.<br>A new world of truth, here to process, and it seems that as an observer in a place of one part of this<br>memory she merely recited what was said at the time automatically.<br><br>“Have you been writing?” asks Cedric.<br><br>“Have you been drawing?” asks the sickly girl, grinning in light mockery.<br><br>“‘Have I been drawing’,” he echoes, looking to the ceiling and then rolling his eyes.<br><br>“You came here!” she fires back with a laugh. “I swear, I thought you were busy!” | |||
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“Three pages I finished,” he answers with pride and a smile.<br><br>“Good!”<br><br>“And you’ve got no pages?”<br><br>“I’ve written! I’ve written plenty!”<br><br>“Then let’s see it, then. I’ve this other book, too...”<br><br>“‘Lright!”<br><br>The girl reaches to a cupboard beside the bed. She keeps her notebooks and utensils there, as well as a<br>tablet she could probably use more often. The young man fishes out a tome from his bag. Right... it never<br>had been traveling, had it? It was always written stories... told tales... dreams.<br><br>They begin to share. Laughter, teasing. | |||
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Four days.<br><br>In four days, all of this ended. They both believed that, if not forever, she had at least three hundred and<br>sixty-five. She didn’t get to see him in the end. In the early morning she felt a pain and faded.<br>Then, nothing. She remembered hearing them yelling to call. That was it.<br><br>Tenniel knew this.<br><br>The memory is long. She feels it. It encompasses these last days, but she doesn’t want to see it.<br><br>Strong though she is, facing such a thing terrifies her. No part of it can change. Her health was always<br>failing, they were always alone, and he couldn’t be there: the end. Dreams and stories... can’t become real<br>by wishing.<br><br>She leaves the memory while they’re smiling. She doesn’t remember if it was their last time together.<br>She doesn’t want to know. | |||
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You will die. You have died.<br><br>Standing in the memory of the workshop, this is what Alice remembers.<br><br>“Tenn—” she starts, looking up.<br><br>But Tenniel is gone.<br><br>And there, the memory fades. She can guess... As he’d said, he was only an imitation, and with the truth<br>revealed, his time was up. | |||
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Alice stands in the void of Arcaea, staring forward with unseeing eyes.<br><br>And everything screams at her at once.<br><br>This “plane” is false. This “body”: a shell. The “memories” were distorted.<br>Her “life” was not hers; her life ended with no arc, no culmination, no brother beside her.<br><br>You are alone, Alice.<br><br>And you died alone. | |||
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Alice eventually finds herself on her knees, her gloved fingers dug through the earth.<br><br>She feels very cold. She wants to cry, but tears wouldn’t come.<br><br>She feels...<br><br>She feels.<br><br>“It’s real,<br><br>“because every sense of you ‘knows’ that it’s real.”<br><br>Tenniel’s words reflect in her head. | |||
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She looks at her hand, and she sees it.<br><br>She pulls her glove taught, and she feels it.<br><br>She takes the flower from her hair and hears it. Smells it. She opens her mouth over the petals.<br><br>What is reality? Is it what you see? What you taste? What you touch?<br><br>If that is so...<br><br>“Alice” is dead, and Alice is alive.<br><br>And if Tenniel was a memory, then he must remain as well.<br><br>In reality, she knows herself to be a wanderer of worlds.<br><br>She made it here, didn’t she? Regardless of the “truth”.<br><br>And if that is so... there is a way out. | |||
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She’ll find it.<br><br>The way back: to the one who cared for her the most in life.<br><br>And for the other...<br><br>If she cannot find him again on her journey, she knows a fragment of him will be there with her,<br>remaining in her heart. Perhaps she’ll start making and never drinking tea. The thought... makes her<br>smile and laugh once again.<br><br>Alice decides then and there, feet on the ground and holding the shard of “truth” between her fingers:<br>even if she may always look forward, to the horizon that marks a new way...<br><br>...she will never, ever, forget what brought her there. | |||
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