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This Used to be About Dungeons, ch 90, Cloister
🕑 Added 2022-03-28 15:56:03 +0000 UTC~~~~
Isra was surprised, at the end of the day, how little progress they had made on disassembling the theater. Alfric had tested the doors to make sure that there was nothing hiding behind them, and found that the majority of them led nowhere, being purely decorative. The two that weren’t had been hastily and thoroughly barricaded. There was a backstage area, but it was devoid of life. Isra found it curious; there were ropes hanging down and all kinds of sand bags and set pieces. She hadn’t really contemplated what the back area of the opera had looked like, but it must have been something like this.
Much of their first day — the day they’d had left once Mizuki had done a final sweep for entads and then gone — was planning, preparation, and assessment, which Isra had very little hand in. The seats and the lighting were the largest items, as well as being the majority of the work, but the walls were covered with artwork and many surfaces had ornamentation that seemed quite expensive. Alfric wanted to take these too, if at all possible. Some math was done, just to see how long this would all take, and Alfric took out the first set of chairs to get some measure of how labor intensive it would be.
<For just the seats, we’re looking at sixty hours of labor,> said Alfric. <The seats are in sets of three, five minutes each … that’s about right.>
Isra thought the estimate was optimistic. He had been pushing himself to go as fast as possible, not working with the slowness that came with repetitive and strenuous action. He wasn’t accounting for time to rest either, though she wasn’t sure that was a part of the concept of an hour of labor. She supposed that it wasn’t.
<Sixty hours,> Alfric continued. <That’s fifteen a piece, or about two days total.>
<For just the seats,> said Hannah. <And you’d have to double it if you want a more accurate picture, ay?>
<Four days then,> said Alfric, not seeming at all perturbed by the idea his estimate might be off by double. <That’s not too bad. It’s good payment.>
<Are we starting tonight then?> asked Verity. <It’s past when we would normally be eating dinner.>
<We’ll eat, rest up, get some sleep, and start early in the morning,> said Alfric. <The balcony has no exits, it’s the safest place for us to set the trunk, which is virtually impervious and can be told to stay put. We’ll be inside the stone, where we have housing.>
<We do?> asked Isra.
Alfric nodded. <I set it up not long after we got the stone, it’s nothing fancy, just water, food stores, a latrine, and some tents. There are pallets set out to receive goods, but I don’t think we’ll want to use them if we have the trunk.>
<And we’re fine in the dungeon for so long?> asked Verity. <You said that we shouldn’t stay in them if we could help it.>
<I did say that,> said Alfric. <But we should be fine. There are two doors leading out of the theater, but monsters don’t tend to move through the dungeon on their own, and we’ll beat a retreat or kill them if they come through the barricades. And like I said, we’ll be up on the balcony while we sleep. No, the biggest thing we need to worry about is the air.> He looked at Isra. <I’ll want you to make regular checks to make sure that it’s still good to breathe. Air is notoriously difficult. Too much of the wrong kinds of air can kill you, and too little of other kinds can kill you, and even if the mixture is right, too high of pressure or too low of pressure can also be quite bad. You’ll just feel sleepy or dizzy or like you need a nap, and then you’ll never wake up. We have vent stones, enough for five people to breathe indefinitely, but I don’t have masks for them, not like we’d ideally want.>
<Oh come now,> said Hannah. <You bought five vent stones powerful enough to keep us breathing?>
<Yes,> said Alfric. <On the thinking that they could save our lives some day.>
<Was that with your own money, or with the group fund?> asked Verity.
<Group fund,> replied Alfric.
<There’s such a thing as being too prepared,> said Hannah. <But it’s a discussion for another day. Puttin’ thousands into edge cases doesn’t seem like where I want to be with this overall venture.>
<They’ll be sold back with little depreciation,> said Alfric.
<We’ll talk on it later,> said Hannah. <Now then, let’s get into the stone and go eat. There’s nothin’ like a pitched battle to work up some appetite.>
Hannah had some measure of the work ahead, that much was clear, but Isra could see that she was putting a veneer on her feelings. The actual battle had been at least an hour before, maybe more, and most of what they’d been doing had been boring administration in preparation for extended labor.
The trunk was positioned up on the balcony of the theater, and the stone beside it, mostly out of a surfeit of caution.
The garden stone had changed considerably since the last time Isra had been in there, and it was clear that Alfric had been spending some of his restless downtime there. There were more pallets set up, a handful of cages made without metal, a makeshift latrine that Isra wasn’t looking forward to using, and a set of five tents which had all been pitched and set up ahead of time.
The garden stone had been appraised, as had most of the other entads they used on a regular basis. It was a curiously lifeless place, in a sense. Plants there were in a state of suspension, resilient to damage but also incapable of growth. The lighting never changed. Alfric had proposed that they could use it as a place to keep plants in the winter months, and that seemed to still be an option, but there was only an acre of space, and for it to be truly worthwhile, it would need to be done at scale. He’d tried keeping fruits in it, but apparently those weren’t covered under the protection of the garden stone, so it was either trees or nothing, and they wouldn’t grow inside. Getting into and out of the stone was also not particularly straightforward, and in Isra’s opinion, this was just the sort of thinking that Alfric sometimes did. He liked challenges and puzzles, more than had been clear to her when they hadn’t known each other.
Dinner had to be made outside of the garden stone, and it was a bit of a meager affair, largely because they hadn’t gone into the dungeon with the expectation that they’d be eating there. Alfric, of course, had stocked the garden stone with food, but it was all food that could last for months at a time. Beans, rice, and cured sausage were a hearty meal, but it didn’t hold a candle to Mizuki’s cooking. Isra had been looking forward to stew.
“See, what you could have done was put some plants in the garden,” said Hannah as they ate from their wooden bowls. “They’re in stasis here, so it’s not like they’d need to be watered or go bad, right? Just a head of lettuce sittin’ there for us to eat in a little pot.”
“That’s an excellent point that unfortunately doesn’t really help us right now,” said Alfric. He hesitated. “Well, no, doesn’t help. I was trying to think whether we could grow anything within the dungeon, but we don’t have ectad or entad support, and even with Isra’s help, I’m skeptical that we could extract any usable seeds from what we have.”
“It would take too much time,” said Isra. “But for the future, yes.”
“Is this what we’re eating this whole time?” asked Verity, who had finished her bowl. “Not that I’m complaining, I’m just curious. I was looking forward to stew.”
“This, or variations on it,” said Alfric. “Rice and beans, some meat. There’s a brick of dried spinach, something I picked up in Dondrian, but we’ll use that later.” He picked at his meal, and Isra couldn’t help thinking that he was probably missing the stew too. This was at least partially Mizuki’s fault for all the stew-talk on their way to the dungeon. “You know, some people live like this.”
“Like what?” asked Verity with a raised eyebrow. She looked down at her empty bowl. “Field rations?”
“Inside dungeons,” said Alfric.
“How?” asked Isra.
“Why?” asked Verity.
“The answer to how is easy enough,” said Alfric. “They have entad and ectad support. With the right collection of stones, you don’t even need entads at all, but scaling can be an issue. Making a dungeon into a livable habitat is supposed to be pretty difficult, not to mention inherently unsafe.”
“And as to why,” said Hannah. “I suppose it’s hermits and the like?”
“What’s a hermit?” asked Isra.
“Someone who lives alone in the woods,” said Verity. “Not like you though.”
“Why not like me?” asked Isra.
“Um,” said Alfric. “Usually a hermit is someone who lives outside of society by choice, rather than chance.”
“Mmm,” said Isra. She felt insulted, though she wasn’t exactly sure in what way. The term, ‘hermit’, seemed to fit her, but it also felt like a bad word.
“Anyway, it’s not all hermits,” said Alfric. “Sometimes people want to opt out without actually being alone. A whole party can go into a dungeon together, and the five of them can live there. It’s extremely uncommon, but I used to read stories.”
“Where do the stories come from?” asked Isra.
“People who come out later,” said Alfric. “Or in two cases I know of, their children.”
“Children?” asked Isra. She leaned forward. “Children … born in a dungeon?”
“Yes,” nodded Alfric. “In theory, you could have a whole civilization packed away in a dungeon. Once the monsters have been cleared out, it’s just a series of connected rooms, or in some cases a bit more than that. There’s a limit of five on party size, but there’s a loophole that allows more people to be in a dungeon. Anyone born there gets to stay.”
“I haven’t read up on it, but it seems a bit horrific,” said Hannah. “People dodgin’ the province.”
“From what I’ve heard, yes,” said Alfric. “Some of the people who try to live in dungeons are criminals attempting to evade justice. Again, it’s very rare, but it’s an area of interest for me.”
“Does that work?” asked Hannah. “You’re a wanted man, you run into a dungeon, kill whatever’s there, and you live out your life?”
“Depending on how well you prepare, sure,” said Alfric. “But it can be grim, as I think everyone seems to be suggesting about my meal.” He smiled, and they laughed, which did a lot for the mood. “Frankly, unless you have incredible preparation, it’s probably worse to be stuck in a dungeon than whatever the state might do to you.”
“And there might be people who live their whole lives in a dungeon,” said Isra. “Born in a dungeon, thinking that it’s the entire world.”
“There are a few books like that,” said Alfric. “Pure fiction.”
Isra wasn’t sure if he had understood what she was saying or not, but the meal had come to a close, and she was tired. She had no sense of how long it had been since they’d gone into the dungeon, nor did she have any idea what time it was on the outside. The garden stone didn’t have day or night, but Alfric had thought of that and given them masks to cover their eyes, which was something.
Isra disrobed in her tent and lay there, feeling the padding of the bedroll and staring up at the fabric. This was closer proximity to the others than she usually had, excepting Verity, who was normally across the room. She could hear them as they got settled, and she listened as Alfric showered off, removing what blood and grime he hadn’t gotten off before dinner. Hannah, a few tents over, was saying her prayers to Garos, murmuring so low it was difficult to make out the words. It seemed to Isra that Hannah was talking about the theater they’d found and what it might mean.
Verity slipped into Isra’s tent with barely a sound, and they were soon laying together.
“We’re going to have to furnish this place with some creature comforts,” said Verity.
“Are you sleeping with me tonight?” asked Isra. The tent wasn’t all that large, but there was room for two, if they were cuddled close to each other.
“Just a private visit,” said Verity. “Alfric had tents all ready and set up, and there are thankfully toothbrushes, but it’s clear he was thinking of budget. No extra clothes for us either, not that I’d expect it.” She was dressed in only her underthings, as was Isra. Isra liked that they were comfortable enough with each other for this level of intimacy.
“He was probably just thinking that it would be for an emergency,” said Isra. “We might be here for a few days.”
“As much as a week,” said Verity. She gave a little downturn of her lips, an expression that served as a very fast, very small frown. She did it often.“Sorry for earlier.”
“Earlier?” asked Isra.
“For wanting to stay,” said Verity. “For making it a big deal with Mizuki.”
“I didn’t mind,” said Isra. “No one wanted to be the odd one out. You were vocal about it, that was all.”
“Mmm,” said Verity. “But it did make sense for me to go. I guess. I just didn’t want to be consigned to the house by myself for a full week with nothing to do but practice for the concert. It would have felt like my mother was taking even more of my life from me.” Alfric had said two days, Hannah had said four, and Verity was now saying a full week. It was hard to tell time in the dungeon, even for Isra, and she wondered how they would even track it.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Isra. She reached out a hand until her fingers found Verity’s. “Not that I don’t like Mizuki, but …” She trailed off.
“You and I have a special relationship,” said Verity. Her voice was soft.
Isra was keenly aware of their closeness and the extent of their skin contact. There was something about touching another person’s body with her own, the way the surfaces shaped to each other. Isra was laying on her back and Verity was on her side, and the curve of Isra’s hip was fitting into the hollow where Verity’s thighs met her abdomen. This was closer than they normally were to each other.
“Xy kissed me,” said Verity.
“Oh?” asked Isra. She could practically feel the jealousy moving through her, like a rush of spring meltwater. “When?”
“When I got that first letter from my mother,” said Verity. “She just … moved forward and kissed me.” There was more she wanted to add, clearly, but she left it there.
Isra didn’t know how to respond to that. She stayed quiet. Her heart was beating quickly, too quickly, as though she was in the middle of a fight. It was surprising how upset she was, really, especially given that she had no claim to Verity. Mating behavior in animals had always seemed so strange, and Isra had always been a bit puzzled by the way that two bucks would lock horns over a doe, but it snapped into place and made sense now. She would have to find out what humans did instead of locking antlers or getting in fights with each other.
“Sorry,” said Verity, after the silence had stretched on.
Isra still had no good response. The feelings that were rippling through her seemed like they had no good expression. She felt like crying, but as a matter of principle she didn’t like to cry, and she wasn’t about to start over this. So she just extracted her fingers from Verity’s and sat there, staring up at the tent.
It was all made worse by the fact that Alfric and Hannah could probably hear the entire conversation, if indistinctly.
There was safety in not saying anything, but there was also danger. This was what was so hard about people. You could sit there in silence and people would infer all kinds of thoughts, and if those were the wrong things, you would have to explain how and why they were wrong. But then they might not even say what they had inferred, so you couldn’t know, and couldn’t say.
“I’ll go,” said Verity. “Let me know when you want to talk.”
She slipped away without another word, as silently as she’d entered.
After perhaps ten minutes of sitting alone, Isra got up from her tent and sat among the small flowers for a bit. There was a strip where the ectad tree trunk had laid down, a place where the small native flowers had been crushed, and while they had sprung back, the difference between the ones that hadn’t been crushed could still be seen. Isra wondered how long she would still be able to tell the difference.
When another ten minutes had passed, Isra went to Hannah’s tent. Hannah was good for advice, calm and understanding, and she’d never made Isra feel stupid for her feelings. Verity hadn’t either, not intentionally, but obviously the problem couldn’t be discussed with Verity.
Hannah was asleep though, snoring softly, and Isra realized that she was wrong, that either Hannah hadn’t heard the conversation, or was simply not that concerned with it. In her mind, Hannah had been invested in what was happening in the tent.
A quick check confirmed that Alfric was asleep as well, or if not asleep, then at least on his side with his mouth part way open and eyes closed.
Isra returned to her tent. She had thought about going to see Verity, who was surely not yet asleep. Verity was slow to sleep and late to rise, and the conditions in the tents, while fine, didn’t lend themselves to a quick sleep. But whatever Isra would eventually say to Verity, she didn’t have the words yet, and if Isra crept into the tent, she would have no words, leaving her no better off.
Sleep came slowly. It was Isra’s first time sleeping in a dungeon, but that wasn’t the thing that was bothering her.
~~~~
It was hard to say whether or not Isra woke early, but she did wake first. Alfric didn’t rise too much after her though, and after a long drink of water and a trip to the latrine, he sat down beside her.
“Ready to get to work?” he asked.
“I am,” said Isra.
“I’ll be wearing the helmet but nothing else,” said Alfric. “We’ll want to be able to grab weapons in a hurry if we need to. This is an operation that would be better carried out with a full clear done, but the barricades should be fine. Monsters don’t tend to wander too much, even if they’re hungry, which they probably will be.”
“Most of the time will be spent on labor,” she said. It was a hollow nothing of a contribution to the conversation, but Alfric nodded.
“I’m strangely looking forward to it,” he said. “The seats will be monotonous, but the lighting and the big chandelier will be more interesting, as will some of the panels, if we can get them to fit. That curve to the opening hallway is going to severely limit what we can take out, but we could do the larger pieces one-by-one with the wand, possibly. Obviously it’s ideal to fit everything we can into the trunk.”
“No guild messages,” Isra eventually offered.
“No,” said Alfric. “Information blackout when you’re in a dungeon. It’s one of the things that makes the longer ones hard. It’s also hard for your loved ones, not knowing whether it’s just an extended dungeon or whether something bad has happened.”
“Your arrangement with Vertex would mean that they can’t do a dungeon longer than a day,” said Isra. She hadn’t cottoned on to that until that very moment, but all their dungeons thus far had been shorter affairs, typically embarked on early in the morning.
“That’s not technically true,” said Alfric. “They would just have to send someone out, like we did with Mizuki. Not ideal, but if they have enough stuff to strip out … I could see it.”
“You think this will be worth it?” asked Isra.
“Oh, definitely,” said Alfric. “A year from now, I’m hopeful that it won’t be worth it, that we’ll be making so much from our dungeons or investments or anything else that we can afford to leave something like this behind. Or we’ll have entads that can speed all this along so that it won’t be as time intensive.”
“Such as?” asked Isra, her imagination momentarily failing her.
“Oh, telekinesis of some kind would be excellent,” said Alfric. “That flute of Verity’s will also probably be helpful, come to think of it. But there are other options too, beyond just being able to apply force. A better method of extradimensional storage would be great.”
“You were singing the chest’s praises,” said Isra.
“Sure,” shrugged Alfric. “And it is very good in very many ways. The capacity is unreal. But it will be replaced in time, as all things will. The helmet is good for flight, very good, but I won’t have it forever. The thimble armor is a good get, but I can already feel the deficiencies. You remember my mom’s sword?”
“It would be hard to forget,” said Isra. “The sword that could single-handedly win a war.”
Alfric laughed. Perhaps he hadn’t heard the deference in her voice. “Well, it’s the weapon that she settled on now as her primary, but it’s not the first weapon she picked up and found in a dungeon. She’s been through dozens, maybe as much as hundreds, and switches between a small selection as she needs to. I think there’s something to that, accepting some level of … impermanence.”
There was something about the way he was speaking that was atypical for him, and it was difficult for Isra to put her finger on what it was. It was as though he was attempting to impart a lesson of some kind, but in a more roundabout way than he normally did. Alfric’s lessons were clear and straightforward.
“I was, ah, listening last night,” said Alfric. “Not intentionally, but our tents are close, and I didn’t have my earplugs at hand. It’s hard not to hear. I’ll reposition the tents sometime today, so it’s not an issue.”
“Ah,” said Isra. She attempted to make a connection to what he’d said before, and her mind failed her. “I don’t have a right to be angry.”
“But you do feel angry?” asked Alfric. He leaned in slightly and glanced at the tents, to make sure no one was moving.
“I don’t know,” said Isra.
“There’s something between you and her,” he said.
“I don’t know,” Isra shrugged again. “I had thought we were … building up to something.”
“I don’t know if you want advice,” said Alfric.
“Yes, please,” said Isra. “I keep waiting for someone to tell me what to do.”
“What I was saying about impermanence,” said Alfric. “You can’t latch onto the first thing you come across. The bow, that’s — it’s really good, and there’s a chance you’ll still be using it fifty dungeons from now. But you need to be open to using something else. You need to have the understanding that maybe this isn’t forever, and that’s alright.”
“And in this metaphor,” said Isra. “You think Verity is … the bow?”
“I don’t know,” said Alfric. “I think you would be better off trying to not see this as something monumental and vital. What Hannah and Marsh have, a casual thing, that might work better than, ah, whatever you have now. But I’ve only ever had one romantic partner, and she stabbed you in the stomach, so I might not have any clue at all what I’m talking about.”
He left it at that, and Isra ruminated on it.
Hannah got up not too long after that. She made a show of stretching out, but Isra had a feeling that the timing was a bit too convenient, and that she might have been listening in just a bit herself. Isra didn’t mind, she only hoped that Verity hadn’t caught any of it. The feelings were embarrassing. A quick check showed that Verity was still asleep in the tent, looking peaceful in her slumber.
“I had a thought last night,” said Hannah. “Which is that the food situation is dire. So I was thinkin’ about what we have, and what we can do to make it better, and it occurred to me that we do have herbs. Those masks, remember?”
“Ah,” said Alfric. “I suppose that would work. If you wanted to take over food preparation?”
“Walked into that one, did I?” laughed Hannah. “But ay, I would be happy to. I’ll take some inventory of what we have while we wait for Verity to rise.” She glanced at Verity’s tent. “Might be able to make a full meal before she’s up …”
“We’ll wake her early,” said Alfric. “We need to get a move on.” He turned back to Hannah. “Feel free to use the mints or chocolate, but we have very little of both.” Those, intended for consumption to take the taste of vomit out of a person’s mouth, had been their dessert the night before.
“I’ll scrape somethin’ together,” said Hannah. “Overall I’m quite pleased to be doin’ this, unmakin’ a theater. There’s something very symmetrical about it, if you think hard on it.”
“Is there?” asked Isra. “The theater wasn’t ever made. It was a dungeon creation.”
“Well, ay,” said Hannah. She seemed nonplussed. “But Garos has some thoughts on birth and death as bookends to a person’s life, and it’s not a principle that gets applied to structures so much, especially since they’re so often asymmetrical beginnings and ends. Mostly the end comes from rot or fire. There’s some symmetry in rot, at least for a house of wood, but not so much in fire.”
They skipped breakfast. This was the normal mode of eating in Dondrian, and Alfric thought that if they were going to be stuck eating variations on the same thing many times, it might be better to do only two meals a day.
And then they were back in the theater, with their gear stripped off but with weapons in a known and strategic position, ready to begin tearing out pieces of the theater.
The chairs were in sections of three seats, with the legs nailed into position through a hole that had then been covered with putty and then paint. The best way to take them out, which they’d covered the day before, was to use something called a crowbar to carefully pry up the leg without damaging the chairs all that much. This took some doing, but so long as the damage was asymmetrical, Hannah could fix it quickly and without much issue, though she did complain that it was exactly the sort of thing that Garos was ill-suited to, presumably for theological reasons.
It was difficult, sweaty work, and Isra lost herself in it. She did her best to go at a steady pace, finding a rhythm to the work, the same way she did when breaking down a large carcass. It was hot in the theater though, and she stripped down to let her sweat cool her, leaving her headscarf and the shirt with its longer sleeves piled up by the weapons. It wasn’t quite the sweltering heat of summer, but the work was difficult, requiring much of her body weight and frequent repositioning.
In the rare moments she wasn’t working, Isra’s eyes were drawn to Verity. Physical labor was not a strong suit for Verity, but she was giving it her all with the same stubborn determination that she brought to a difficult piece of music she was learning. Like Isra, Verity was only minimally dressed, with her pale arms levering her own crowbar. She was beautiful, Isra decided, made more perfect in those moments of concentration and grit.
They hadn’t talked. Normally they gravitated toward each other, but now it was the opposite. They worked on different sides of the theater, in their own sections. Isra did want to talk, to be with her, but she didn’t know what to say or how to explain.
So instead, Isra ran through conversations in her head.
“I am hideously, irrationally upset that you kissed Xy,” Isra might say. “I am angry that you would fool around with her when you could fool around with me.”
“Oh,” Verity might say. “I had no idea that would interest you. You never said, or really gave any indication.”
“I was waiting for you to make a move,” Isra might say. “I can’t lead you onto the dance floor when I don’t know how to dance.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” Verity might say. “Xy has already laid claim to me, and she knows her way around a woman much better than you do.”
“Let’s just drown her,” Mizuki might offer. “Find some quiet pond and hold her down until she’s not moving anymore.”
But it probably wouldn’t go like that. It was more likely that Verity would say something eloquent and thoughtful, that she would have taken lessons in how to deal with this sort of situation. The night before she had seemed to deal with it gracefully and with due consideration, giving Isra time and space. Whatever Isra was planning to say once they spoke again, assuming they did speak again, it was certain that Verity was planning to say something too. Verity’s plans were surely more complicated, more nuanced, and with the benefit of experience.
They took a break for a late lunch, which they had up on the balcony. Hannah had cooked, and it was an improvement on what Alfric had made, but that wasn’t saying all that much. There was more in the way of flavor, but it was still simple fare. Isra had gotten too used to Mizuki’s cooking.
“My hands are a mess,” said Verity, holding them out. “I’m getting blisters.” She was saying this to the group, rather than the Isra.
“I’ll do what I can,” said Hannah. “Try to use one hand more than the other, if you can.”
“These fingers are for lute playing,” said Verity. She sounded apologetic. “Gardening too, but there I usually have gloves.”
“There are gloves in the pack,” said Alfric. “With a crowbar you shouldn’t need them, and they might not fit, but they’re there.”
“Thanks,” said Verity.
“So, I’d like to take five minutes and take stock,” said Alfric. “We’re roughly four hours in, I think, and we’ve removed about a hundred and fifty seats. That … isn’t great.”
“It’s still a good wage, assumin’ the seats can be sold for enough,” said Hannah. “Thirty rings a piece? That means an hour’s work is gettin’ us somethin’ like … five hundred, split four ways?”
“I don’t know if it will be thirty a piece,” said Alfric. “Also, it’ll be split five ways.”
“I liked the idea of splittin’ it five ways more when I hadn’t just put in so much work,” said Hannah. “But ay, it’s what we agreed to, we’re a team. I do wonder what she’s doin’ out there on her own.”
“Keeping out of trouble, hopefully,” said Alfric.
Comments
Ross Owen Qualls
There's a missing space and a section of text is appearing as a link - often."Sorry
fbt
I'll put 100 quatloos on "Mizuki gets lonely, goes into town, gets drunk, and has an entirely regrettable one-night-stand" (not that I really expect that, just trying to add to the variety!). Tbh, Mizuki murdering some random person almost seems as likely, as Isra noted. :) She's a bit psycho at times.
