WEEK 1

[strangerpeople]

WEEK 1

[Awaken.

Fifteen strangers have been gathered to the Depths.

When the strangers awaken, they will feel nauseous in their stomachs. No doubt confused. Maybe a little sick, Perhaps, even terrified. And certainly, there is a good reason for it - they are not where they were before. If they had powers back where they came from, they seem to be all gone. And it appears that someone has left...guidelines for them. All of them addressed to a specific Title.

Their Title. Somehow, each person knows, upon seeing this, this is their Title, even if it seems to make no sense whatsoever. And its clear that whoever wrote these things knew it as well. Who was it?

Its uncertain. So far, there seems to be no one else save for them, and those who dare to venture out of their rooms - save, for some reason, the individuals in rooms 1, 8 and 7 - in this hot and stuffy place. No...'intercessor' to be seen yet, certainly. No outward signs that there's anyone else aside from the people with 'Titles'.


So, Titled: welcome.

There are fifteen strangers in this place.]

Comments

[socialhacktivist]

He has a good point. The fact that she can answer so quickly pretty much says it all. "Probably not." What would the other members of the Phantom Thieves say if they were here? That takes her a moment, but soon after she adds-- "But we're not alone." They had each other; strangers though they might be.

It's the most comforting thing she has to offer right now, situation being what it was.

Futaba hesitates, because strangers are still hard for her to face. But in this situation she can't keep hiding from everyone. Besides, she just said they had to stick together, right? That's what the others probably would have wanted her to do. That decides it.

"...yeah, sure. It can't be any worse, right?"

She picks herself off the floor, dusting herself off; waiting for him to open the door.

[bythewaves]

"Probably not."

The door opens, and Maglor bows to her. He looks almost like he belongs here - clothes distinctly medieval in cut and style, although worn and old, dark hair worn long and loose. He has a young face, but old eyes, and there are burn scars on his hands.

"I would say, 'well met', lady, but the meeting is a poor one, I fear." He says wryly.