WEEK 3

[strangerpeople]

WEEK 3

[It has begun. With the death of the Spinner and the execution of the Indulgent, they remaining Titled will be plagued once more by vivid dreams. And just as last week, they are awoken by the sounds of doors creaking open.

Just like last week. But no one had died last week. Right? No one had been subjected to that...thing.

And yet the strange, cold feeling of foreboding remains. And it is certainly most worrisome to those living in rooms 3, 4, 6, and 15. Those who pass by room 7 and 8 will feel that same, worrisome feeling of foreboding as well.

What will they wake up to find? Who knows, now. If dragons are real, anything is possible.

There are thirteen strangers in this place.]

Comments

THURSDAY

[strangerpeople]

They are uniquely attuned to the flow of time.

Armory; slight gore mention, ZTD spoilers

[poorlovefool]

[Ever since the motive's effects proved that the memories from his dream were real, Eric's been trying to distract himself with whatever he could. He might go back to alchemy dabbling, but digging through the library to search for information has brought one of them to mind, and he finds himself wandering to the armory as though drawn to it. Once there, he stops in front of the arrows, picking one up in both hands and looking at it for a good long while. He doesn't want to die... he wants to see Mira so desperately... but Mira is...

He still doesn't remember it, only heard of an arrow like this digging sickeningly through his chest. Even so, just what is there waiting for him? The happy future he'd always imagined feels like it's been ripped away, an aching hole that's supposed to be his heart. It seems so empty now, so full of darkness, and fear too.

For now, though, he carefully puts the sharp object back, and goes to the door, and... doesn't leave. It's been a few days, after all. Maybe someone should "guard" all this stuff.]

[lightnen]

[ Ever since that weird virus was released, it was hard to miss how it's affecting some of the people around here and yet he wasn't affected by it at all.

Opening the door to the armory, Killua blinked a couple of times when he saw Eric just standing there with this weird look on his face. He swore he's seen that kind of expression on people before, but it was otherwise hard to explain. That same instinct just told him to stay here, as much as he didn't entirely like Eric all that much. ]

I get the feeling that maybe you shouldn't be in here right now.

[poorlovefool]

[Then they are blinking at each other, because Killua of all people wasn't someone he expected to find in here at this time. He's moving at a normal speed, and by this point Eric can tell that it means he's unaffected. He looks genuinely surprised at that assessment, though.]

Huh?

[And then... worry crosses his features. Did he think...no, no way.]

I-I'm fine! I was just, you know, making sure no one else could get in here...

[His syllables are drawn out, spoken slowly.]

[lightnen]

[ If he hadn't figured out things before, this cemented it in place in his mind.

Nobody would normally speak in such a manner, drawing out their syllables and done so in a more slowed fashion than normal. Part of him was thankful that he hadn't been affected by this, and felt only a little bit of pity for those who were; namely Rubedo being one of the ones he cared about in this kinda situation. ]

Yeah? Do you really think in the state that you're in, that you should be guarding all the weapons?

[ Deciding to test something, he used a very subtle amount of extra speed to move past Eric with ease and turned to face him once he stood behind him. ]

If you can't stop a kid like me from coming in here, then what makes you think you'd be able to stop anyone else?

[poorlovefool]

[Eric is shocked. Just shocked.]

How'd you do that?!

[lightnen]

I just went and walked past you. Nothing more.

[ Okay so he's mildly lying because he did use a touch of his speed but not about to tell Eric this. It's fun messing with him. ]

[poorlovefool]

You call that walking, you little -

[But then, he'd be in denial like this regardless of if he had the virus or not. He cuts himself off, frustrated.]

What, are you immune or something? You're acting like you own the place...

[His eyes glance between Killua and the weapons, looking nervous as he's remembering their first conversation again.]

Your Best Friend

[defriendestration]

[Kitchen]

[Early in the morning, the smell of bread fills the air. Not very well-baked bread, either.

Papyrus is cooking the ungodly amounts of wheat that he'd pulled for Eric, because that's how you make bread, right? With wheat? Right! It's what it says in the break cookbook he's got! Pound things like Undyne, mix in some beer and honey, then cook!

His attempts are coming out awful and some are burnt, some are still yeasty and some are just a pile of not-well-ground wheat, but try telling him that. Also probably try telling him to taste his food before declaring it finished?]

OK! NEXT LOAF!! NYEH-HEH-HEH!!


[All Around]

[Ok. He can do this. He can help those who are sick, somehow. He's not sick so...it stands to reason, right?

And he's pretty sure he has the perfect conversation starter. He's found a book in the library. A pro-monster book, in fact! Maybe talking about it will help people feel a little better?

So he'll be knocking on doors, or if you're out and about, carefully approaching you. He's going to make sure he starts this serious book conversation correctly!]

HEY!



DO YOU LIKE BOOKS?

[Nailed it]

Dinning room

[kiddefender]

[For all her usual energy, Raph isn't doing a lot.

For example right now, her food has been pushed across the table and her head is resting on the table. Her ears twitch rapidly, at different times, they don't focus on anything. Occasionally there's a grumble and she holds them down with her hands, but she always lets go after a minute.

Also the tail. Watch out for the tail, it's pretty strong for something so fluffy.]

Kitchen

[zephyranthe]

[Upon walking into the kitchen, one will be greeted with the sight of a small girl wearing a lion costume that looks far too large for her, sitting in front of the large cooking pot situated in the fire pit. Interestingly enough, the pot lid appears to be inverted, and there's the heavy smell of beer in the air.

Look. She doesn't know how to use any of those fancy-schmancy alembics, so she's doing this the old-fashioned way. At least with radical-6 affecting her, the distillation will seem to go a lot faster??]

[defriendestration]

[So, which do you think tastes worse? Papyrus' bread? Or--

...No, actually, never mind, there's probably no contest.]

HEY! HOW ARE YOU DOING?

[zephyranthe]

[Idk man, concentrated liquid bread also seems pretty unappealing... god we're just bread disasters today, aren't we.

Anyways, since Papyrus is speaking at normal speeds like that, Fie will cringe slightly and cover her ears a little. It's still comprehensible, but kind of a headache to deal with... Still, he's checking up on her and she appreciates that, so she'll at least try to carry a conversation on her end.]

Hanging in there. Dunno how much more of this I can take, though.

[Maybe she should just lock herself up in her room...]

[defriendestration]

THAT'S GOOD TO HEAR!




SO, YOU WANT SOME OF MY BREAD? I'VE BEEN BAKING SINCE THIS MORNING!

[s c r e a m]

[zephyranthe]

[She recalls those cookies from before. To be fair, they weren't really baked by him, but apparently he thought they were good, so uh. But he still tried to bake a thing (for whatever reason) and food's food, especially since it saves her the trouble of cooking anything herself.]

Sure. Why not.

[This is going to be a mistake, isn't it.]

[defriendestration]

OK!

ALL RIGHT, DO YOU LIKE YOUR BREAD...MORE OR LESS SOLID? AND...LIGHTER OR DARKER? IT WILL NARROW DOWN THINGS VERY EASILY.

[zephyranthe]

Anything's okay. I'm not picky.

[She's not very helpful when it comes to this stuff oops... it may delay her doom for a tag or two though??]

CW for attempted suicide, survivor's guilt and self harm in prompt 2

[carries_war]

[Various places]

[Rubedo hasn't slept decently since Sunday, and it's finally taking too much of a toll for him to hide. Thursday morning, he can be found against the base of the tree in the Conservatex, attempting to write in his journal. After several yawns interrupt him, however, he puts it aside with today's page still blank and switches over to reading his copy of Frankenstein. Soon after that, however, the headache that's been building all day breaks his focus and he moves on to try making lunch in the kitchen. If the smell of burned food doesn't give away how poorly that goes, his cursing will. After that, he heads down to the workshop to try making something. That goes about as well as can be expected, and people who catch him in the library with a stack of paper, a writing tool and a book on drawing might notice his fingers are bright red and shiny.

He'll welcome interruptions at pretty much any point in all of this.]

[Barracks hallway] TWs apply here

[Distractions only last so long. Once it becomes clear to Rubedo that he's too tired to really focus on anything, he finds himself standing in front of the mural Yusuke painted in the hallway. He couldn't save him, just like he couldn't save them. And now, everyone is suffering, and there's nothing he can do about it. The only way they have so far to fix things is if two of them die...or...does it really have to be two? The people behind this should be happy as long as they get their Inquisition, right? If it's just one...if it's just one, and the person dying should have already been dead anyway, then it would be worth it, right? One life that should have ended however long ago Miltia really was, for the safety of everyone else here...that should be worth it, yeah.

Almost absently during this train of thought, he draws one of his daggers in his left hand, turning the right up to stare at his hand. The red 666 stares up at him harshly, driving the memories of his failure even further home. He should probably be scared of what he's planning, but really he's just angry. Angry at his father. Angry at the people who brought everyone here. But mostly, he's angry at himself. On impulse, he sweeps the blade across his right palm, cutting a rough line through the number and splattering blood over the red cactus flower painted on the wall.]

I am not Unit #666! I am me! And I won't let anybody else here die...

[He closes his fist around his now bleeding wound, then lifts his dagger up to his own chest. Where only one heart beats, where there should have been two. The emptiness of it hurt more than the knife would, anyway.]

(Please keep any replies to the second prompt in one thread, he's only going to pull this once.)

Barracks

[defriendestration]

[Well! He's done with making bread for the moment, so he's going to go to his room and maybe work on that word search he pro--

...

Oh. What is Rubedo doing? And...what is he doing?

Is...is he slashing his hand? Why is he that is a dagger.

And...and he's saying weird things and now he's lifting it up and and and and OH NO IS HE--HE IS--]

NYEH-HEH-HEH-HO HO NO NO NO--

[And - no doubt among others - a giant white skeleton is flying at Rubedo. He may not entirely understand but even he knows self-stabbing in the chest is bad.]

[carries_war]

[Distracted by his own thoughts, Rubedo doesn't notice Papyrus until he hears the skeleton's distinctive shouting. He jumps and looks back just in time to be tackled off his feet, breaking his grip on his dagger and sending it bouncing off the wall to land on the floor.]

P...Papyrus?

[defriendestration]

[Oh, huh, that...that actually worked.

Well then. Papyrus holds firm to cover Rubedo and try to keep him from going towards that weapon.]

RUBEDO!!

PLEASE DON'T DO A VIOLENCE!!

[lightnen]

[ Since he'd never really stopped and really looked at the mural Yusuke had painted, it was enough that he wanted to go and take a look at it properly and see all the beautifully painted flowers up close. It was when he reached the hallway that it resided in that he noticed Rubedo standing there in front of it, about to call out to him when he saw the flash of something silver and the distinct splash of blood.

What was he..?

The second that dagger - now properly in view - was raised up to the other's chest, a strange sort of panic welled up in chest like a vice and he started bolting down the hall as fast as he could. Only getting halfway down when it seemed Papyrus had been closer and tackled Rubedo properly, the dagger bouncing off the wall and coming to rest just a ways from where he stood. Relief quickly replaced the panic from before, only to be followed by a sense of anger and something else he couldn't place a finger on, causing him to storm up the last few steps and kick the dagger further away from Rubedo.

Rounding back to face Papyrus and Rubedo now, the anger and underlying hurt was VERY much evident when one looked at his face initially. ]

He's right! What the hell do you think you were doing?!

[ His hands ball into fists, clearly not about to just leave it at that. ]

Did you seriously think that killing yourself was going to help anyone?!

CW: survivor's guilt, suicidal ideation

[carries_war]

[A kneejerk surge of frustration and anger wells up at being pinned down, but...he can't be mad at Papyrus. This isn't like the Institute. It's not an attempt to control him. He still squirms, trying to get free enough to at least move his arms.

And then Killua is yelling. He freezes when he sees the look on the other boy's face, and suddenly he can't meet either Killua or Papyrus' eyes.]

I...I had no right to survive Miltia, so I figured...if someone had to die to get everyone else cured, it might as well be someone who was only alive through a fluke. And if I did it myself, nobody would have to be executed.

[bythewaves]

[ Another voice, a gentle set of hands, Maglor following Killua to very gently fold Rubedo's hands in his from where he kneels in front of him ]

I know. [ He says softly ] It hurts. It feels as if it is the only way forwards. But I say to you what you told me, that day. It is not your death, that any of us want. It will not fix anything.

HEY FUTABA

[bythewaves]

[ Well that was interesting.

Maglor runs his fingers gently over the picture that the stranger left him, seeing the love on the woman's face.

(He cannot remember his mother's face)

Someone in this group though... someone might want this. Someone might be missing their mother too. He brings the portrait out to the mural wall, and hangs it carefully. Perhaps the owner will come and claim it, or others might draw some comfort for it ]