WEEK 1

[strangerpeople]

WEEK 1


[So, once Zero has said his peace, everything is quiet as the week dawns. A new Game. Nonary, Decision, Murder. All three. It doesn't matter. Everyone is here to kill or die. The coin has been tossed, the die is cast. The rules are set; the watches are active.

The question now is, why? Why is this happening? Why you? Surely no one is so desperate to kill on this ship, right? Not when the people onboard are so interesting and varied. Perhaps everyone can get along; perhaps there's a way off the ship without bloodshed. Of course, if there is, it might be be best to be prepared for a long stay-there's no doubt Zero won't make it that easy to escape. Then there's the matter that-apparently-people have new powers they did not possess before, while those the strangers once had are gone. Perhaps it's time to test those out and see what they can do if you're not Kira.

So, let's see what happens this week. Hopefully it will be a peaceful one.

There are currently 19 strangers on this ship.]

Comments

[exequte]

N-


NOOOOOOOO!

Archer! James! No! No! I'm so sorry, I'm so-

[She has bandages, and falls to her knees in the blood, and-

And there's nothing she can do here, is there?

So instead she bursts into tears.]

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[Oh no, this is the worst.]

Akane...

[If he could move, he'd try to get to her. But the pain is too much, and he just....can't.]

Please....it'll be alright...

[exequte]

[She doesn't even respond to that kind of nonsense, but has grabbed the bandages and tears open his shirt without bothering to ask because he's bleeding out it's her fault it's her

She presses a gauze pad against the puncture wound through his chest as the most immediately serious one though (there's so much blood there's so many cuts and every one that she instinctively recognizes seems to trigger sympathy pains in her, her hands are covered in blood and her eyes are full of tears)-]

I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry....

[hatesdeerstalkers]

[Well, as long as she got both the blouse and the vest, he can't complain - actually, trying to speak is suddenly beyond him as she presses against his heart wound, unable to let out more than an inarticulate hiss of pain.

Beyond that, one of his hands - somehow, pushing through the agony of moving his arms - hands on her shoulder, squeezing it as if trying to console her.

It's not your fault, I promise.]