15strangers | (no subject)

W̡͜E̶EK ̵̕2̕͠

[The blight would not stop.

The world's leading experts have been trying to find a cure, to no avail. Th blight keeps changing, keeps foiling all attempts at being fully understood. It's almost sentient, or at least more sentient than any disease that's been encountered before. People fear the disease jumping from what's left of the grapes into other plants, into animals, or even humans.

You can only watch as entire economies and ecosystems collapse. You can only bury your head in your hands as your own business comes to its end. The destruction of the clusters of grapes has not simply destroyed the wine industry, either-other businesses are being destroyed by the plague. Food, transport, retail, nothing is untouched.

You look on your own vineyard, its yield almost entirely blackened and dead.

This can't keep going on.

-

A week has passed since everyone's arrival. No one has died, yet. But surely no one is holding their breath to see if they would survive this unscathed. They are veterans of the game, and they must know that whoever it is that is in charge demands their pound of flesh. The question is when it will happen.

It is the second week, after all-and when the second week of the game comes, death is not far behind. Not even when you wake up, feeling something different in your mind as you remember the truths you originally woke up with, deep in your mind. You feel...lighter, somehow, when you realize there is a change.

Even so, there are 15 strangers left in this place.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If you thought any of this was my old style [gesturing at the gray. golf. shirt with his free hand. that's just for starters] I'd be... well, surprised? Hahaha. [If he were offended that would require admitting the gray shirt is bad taste and!!! He loves it!!! His entire life is so great!!!] You're recalling correctly that rhetoric came first for me on the plane, with the support power I had. [He raises his hand with index finger out, to keep attention on a single point.] You understood so well that I'll give you the information without any hints.

"Soon" is at 9:04 AM tomorrow morning. That's when you can all find out over the television what our next move will have to be.

[It's easy to focus on one point, like a single fingertip. It's less frightening, to have information just handed to you for giving the right answer and asking the right question, like a candy at Sunday School.

It should be more frightening. He shouldn't nod, he should be angry, should be demanding answers, but... he's oddly calm. They can trust the hosts, after all.]

The same television as made Kurama lose his mind? I think he was trying to clear the static, but... this isn't just going to put the fog back in my head, is it?

Edited (i don't care if it's a protestant thiiiiiiiiiing it's perfect for this) 2020-02-04 01:42 (UTC)

[Awwww, his accent's coming back. It's like at some point he was dropped on the head.]

Be aware that my information about how the red fog functions from your perspective is a little imprecise. The recording that we made didn't have any static in it. You know how much I hate breaking promises.

But whether the television will have that effect? Really doesn't matter. There's going to be a completely different new element of information. Pertinent information. And I can make this promise. The entire group completely ignoring the television announcement tomorrow will lead to something much worse.

...of course, from my perspective the best case scenario is if you all consented today and we didn't have to shift gears tomorrow... Is it really so hard for you to believe that...?

Edited (smh he said you know twice) 2020-02-04 01:59 (UTC)

I can believe that you believe it. I don't know if I can believe this is easier on us.

[He feels unpleasantly off-balance. There's so much he doesn't know, and so much Hiyori isn't saying. But he wouldn't lie.]

But just to be clear... just as long as some of us pay attention we'll all be fine, right?

Ah... Gosh, it can be pretty challenging to be part of a bureaucracy. [Hiyori sucks in air through his teeth, giving this question a lot of thought.]

I'll give you this out first: The announcement is getting rebroadcast several times, so don't skip to a panic attack if you sleep in. And obviously we'd take different measures if we had to apply the images to all thirty of your eyeballs. Don't think of this like you're keeping the duty of watching to yourself like a whip, though, okay? Saturation of the actual information is an important goal.

Besides, are you sure you don't want to... see us?

[They know. Of course they know, of course Hiyori knows enough to make a flippant joke of the same kind Jonathan himself would about his family's task, why wouldn't someone he can trust know enough to reference that?]

It's not that I don't, I'm just worried about the others... some of them are likely to ignore it on principle.

You're probably right. For them...

[Hiyori raises the sword in a careful motion, inside that crystal-clear circle, to put it just underneath Jonathan's eyes.]

It's easier to hide than admit this is real.

[He pulls the sword back to rest the dull side in his free hand, taking one last fond glance before he has to put the item away.]

That's why there's a mix of eras and worlds in our things.

[Jonathan has the feeling that there's more than one conversation happening here, as he freezes with a sword aimed at his face. There are things left unsaid, things implied -

Even once Hiyori pulls the blade back and puts it away, Jonathan knows he's blushing, and he can't for the life of him understand why.]

So that nobody gets comfortable enough to just shove their head in the sand? Yeah, I... I think I actually can understand that. You'd rather the fog than the sand. So to speak.

[He's too rattled to be properly sarcastic, so it just sounds stilted.]

You know... [Hiyori bolts the lid of the sword bin shut.] Almost every Stranger has their own theory about what my training was like. Don't get me wrong, I like it that way. Keep them on their toes so the hazing rituals stay a surprise, right? Still, you're the first one to just listen and get anywhere remotely close.

[He turns back around, another pace away.]

So to speak, though? The fog tastes much better than sand! Light and fluffy. Like Link's new sandwiches. [A jerky wave.] You should listen to the radio while eating our modern food, some time.