故事模式剧情详表 (移动版)：修订间差异

 解锁条件： 解锁[[Absolute Reason]]曲包<br>解锁要求：通过[[Antithese]]

 夜色将至。屋外，太阳所溢出的琥珀色暮光马不停蹄地想要从天际溜走，<br /> 奈何被草坪中的那几台装置捕捉并卷入，<br />转变为近似月光的柔和射线。<br /><br />这场宴会带有种独特的气氛。虽然庄园外一个人都没有，但是对上流人士来说，<br />保持形象似乎比任何事都来得重要。她了解这一切——从一开始便是。她坐在较暗一点的地方，<br />而被捕捉的阳光则重现于她如今无法触及的天花板与阶梯。<br /> 少女静静地思考着潜藏于那些渊博知识之中的涵义。<br /><br />“拉薇妮雅。”<br /><br />她的视线从 玻璃 杯上移走。而她的未婚夫（穿着整齐，甚至能用古板来形容，<br />但是姿态相当轻松自如）正站在她的面前。<br /><br />“ 想好今晚喝什么了 ？”<br /><br />她用那只正常的眼睛注视着杯 子 ，答道：“ 嗯， 多纳文 ……我点了李子汁 。”

 “不错。”他笑着回应，一边环顾房间的四周。<br />少女茫然地瞧着他的表情，而他假笑着。<br /> “妈妈 和 大家都说 蔓越莓汁更健康呢，不过 ……”<br />他 说 道， 并 再次朝她瞥去，“ 喝起来也更苦 ， 不 是 吗？ 你 也不喜欢吧 ？”<br /><br />她想了想，畏缩道：“ 我不喜欢 。”<br /><br />“那就好。”他轻笑一声，转过身去，“我接下来要去跟摩根聊聊，<br />不过随时欢迎你加入我们。”<br /><br />少女点了点头，多纳文就走去壁炉旁的那群老朋友们身边。

 一如往常，形象的维护是必不可少的。在引线被卷起存入地上的灯笼前，<br />那凹槽中的火焰只把自身的光辉投出几英寸远。房间的其余场所一片黑暗，却使人感到安心。<br />挂在上方的几个灯笼刚好提供了足够让人们进行阅读、辨识各自面孔，<br />以及分配经过了精挑细选的食物和一瓶瓶饮料所需要的光线。在那半面为玻璃的墙壁外部，<br />如今室外景色模糊不清，隐约能够辨识出野花、石头与溪流：笼罩于深蓝夜幕之下，仿佛一条绸缎。<br />宴会上有二十位来宾，一半在这个房间里，其他人可能在大厅或是某处的书房——<br /> 或许是图书馆也说不定。她所知道的只有这么多。<br /><br />她细细品尝了她的果 汁 。 她 从 中感受到了一丝甜味 ， 但 这 李子汁依然不能让她产生多大 的 印象 。<br />少女 显然能 回忆起某种更好的滋味和感觉，但 现在 她 还是试图让 思绪集中 在 舌 尖 上的 味蕾 。<br /> 可惜，这依然 不 足以打动 她 ，这味道实在是平凡得出奇 。<br /><br />她将玻璃杯搁在一旁那张矮桌的奇异桌布上。她坐了下来，凝听、观察着四周，<br />几分心不在焉地抚摸着于她的另一只眼中绽放的花瓣。

 她听见多纳文说，“但仔细想想，他们现在已经做了那么多了。<br />我第一次听到这主意的时候，我甚至觉得这完全行不通。”<br /><br />“嗯，查尔斯对这一点十分确信。”另一位来宾说道——不是摩根，而是娜塔莉亚。<br /><br />“真让人意外，”多纳文认同道，手指游离于发梢。<br /><br />“一个完整的世界，全部由人类的双手打造……”他说，“我们人类可真了不起。”}}

It’s early evening. Outside, the twilight amber flowing out from the sun tries to slip by without<br />pause, but the devices within the surrounding meadows catch and spool it, changing it to rays<br />more similar to what might be cast from the moon.<br /><br />The party has a certain atmosphere. Though there are no eyes without the manor, the fact is that<br />maintaining an image is paramount to those of upper echelons. She knows this, all of this, innately.<br />Sitting in a darker place, with sunlight captured and held at ceilings and staircases presently<br />beyond her reach, she considers the implications of this knowledge in calm and in silence.<br /><br /> “Lavinia. ”<br /><br />She looks up from her glass. The fiancé (dressed very well, almost stuffily, but in casual<br />posture) is standing before her.<br /><br /> “What have you decided to drink tonight? ”<br /><br />She looks at it through her one proper eye. She answers: “Plum juice… Donovan. ”

“Keen, ” he says with a smile, looking out toward the rest of the room. She looks at his<br />expression blankly. He smirks. ”Mum and the rest prefer cranberry—for health, they say —<br />but…” he says, glancing at her again. “It’s a bitter taste, isn’t it? You don’t like it either,<br />do you? ”<br /><br />She thinks, wincing. “I don ’t. ”<br /><br /> “And that is to the good. ” He chuckles, then turns away. “I ’ll go speak with Morgan.<br />Join us whenever you like. ”<br /><br />She nods, and Donovan moves to their mutual childhood friend near the fireplace.

As always, images need to be maintained. The fire throws its light only a few feet out from the pit<br />before the threads of it are wound away, stored into lanterns on the floor. The rest of the room is<br />dark, but comforting. It’s a setting to relax within. A few lanterns above give just enough illumination<br />for reading, seeing each other’s faces, and the spread of carefully selected portions of food along<br />with bottles of drink. Just outside the room, through half-glass walls, an almost untame scene of<br />wildflowers, stones, and streams is dimly visible: wrapped in a midnight blue, almost like satin.<br />There are twenty guests at the party, half in this room, the rest in the halls or somewhere in other<br />studies—perhaps the library. This is as much as she knows.<br /><br />She drinks her juice, tastes it. She notes the sweetness, not having had much experience with<br />plum juice herself. She recalls something about a better taste and sensation, but in the moment<br />now she is compelled to focus on how the liquid feels along her tongue. However, she can make<br />no true determination of it. It is remarkably unremarkable.<br /><br />She puts the glass down on the fanciful doily of the short table beside her. She sits, listens, and<br />watches, touching the flower petals blooming from her other eye rather absently.

She hears Donovan say, “But to think they’ve done so much already. When I first heard of the idea,<br />I was sure it wasn’t possible. ”<br /><br /> “Well, Charles is quite sure it is, ” says another of the guests—not Morgan, but Nathalia.<br /><br /> “Astounding, ” Donovan grants, running his fingers through the top of his hair.<br /><br /> “A whole entire world, made by human hands, ” he says. “Mankind is quite something. ”}}