pandatreasure (
pandatreasure) wrote2017-12-24 12:44 am
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GRAVEYARD
[You know you must have died—nothing is ever easy around here, certainly not quick, so you must remember burning, bleeding, falling, dying?
And yet. You're waking up.
Do you recognize it here, once you pick yourself up off of the hard floor, maybe half-strewn across a couch or beanbag chair? This room died, too: you're in the library, good as new and maybe better than that, only barely smelling of burnt paper and you only sometimes kick up ash, just like those old wounds that finished you off only ache every now and again, dully.
The book selection isn't quite the same as you remember it—all the bad erotica that didn't die is missing here, sorry to say, but so are the books on everyone's home worlds. Snoop around enough and behind the librarian's desk, you'll find tablets: one for each participant of the game, and with enough experimentation, you'll find the one that reacts when you press the button. You're already logged into your Recyclr account and can read the feed, but the same rules apply: 140 characters, one tweet a day. The voting app is gone, replaced by a sort of security monitoring kind of app. Characters can view different rooms of the school, or even place a few side by side so they can view a few at a time, and they'll be able to see the living go about their day to day lives. There's even an archive of recordings, but only the important ones: murders, executions, investigations, trial highlight reels, and major events like libraries being burned down. Was watching yourself die once not enough? Boy have I got good news for you!!!
It's kind of exciting that you can go around touching stuff, probably, despite being super dead and vaguely transparent in a way you notice like your own breathing; you don't and then you do and it's all you can think about, but your tangibility only extends to the inanimate: try to touch any of your fellow deceased and you'll find that you just pass right on through like touching cold air.
The windows aren't bolted up with those big metal plates on this side of things, but look out of them anytime and it's just pitch-black and still outside, so that's demoralizing. There is, of course, the door out of the library—but for now it's locked up tight. Whatever is a ghost to do?]
((Recyclr
Offerings/Letters
Day 11
Day 14
Day 16))
And yet. You're waking up.
Do you recognize it here, once you pick yourself up off of the hard floor, maybe half-strewn across a couch or beanbag chair? This room died, too: you're in the library, good as new and maybe better than that, only barely smelling of burnt paper and you only sometimes kick up ash, just like those old wounds that finished you off only ache every now and again, dully.
The book selection isn't quite the same as you remember it—all the bad erotica that didn't die is missing here, sorry to say, but so are the books on everyone's home worlds. Snoop around enough and behind the librarian's desk, you'll find tablets: one for each participant of the game, and with enough experimentation, you'll find the one that reacts when you press the button. You're already logged into your Recyclr account and can read the feed, but the same rules apply: 140 characters, one tweet a day. The voting app is gone, replaced by a sort of security monitoring kind of app. Characters can view different rooms of the school, or even place a few side by side so they can view a few at a time, and they'll be able to see the living go about their day to day lives. There's even an archive of recordings, but only the important ones: murders, executions, investigations, trial highlight reels, and major events like libraries being burned down. Was watching yourself die once not enough? Boy have I got good news for you!!!
It's kind of exciting that you can go around touching stuff, probably, despite being super dead and vaguely transparent in a way you notice like your own breathing; you don't and then you do and it's all you can think about, but your tangibility only extends to the inanimate: try to touch any of your fellow deceased and you'll find that you just pass right on through like touching cold air.
The windows aren't bolted up with those big metal plates on this side of things, but look out of them anytime and it's just pitch-black and still outside, so that's demoralizing. There is, of course, the door out of the library—but for now it's locked up tight. Whatever is a ghost to do?]
((Recyclr
Offerings/Letters
Day 11
Day 14
Day 16))
no subject
He's the lowest of scumbags. A coward who deserves every bit of karma he gets.
[closes his eyes, burying his nose into his arms next]
I'm sorry we didn't do better to hold him accountable for everything he put you through.
no subject
no subject
Mmm. We'll help you in that effort.
[yeah like Hiyori doesn't deserve to die at all at this point, even if he totally winds up killing someone this last killing night]
. . . you deserve to get out of here just as much as he does, Tsumugi.
no subject
I should at least let him have that. He's been working so hard this entire time.
no subject
Do you think being on this side of things means it's the end? That there's nothing left for you to do?
no subject
no subject
[so he tries another approach]
Hey, Tsumugi. Can I show you something?
[he stands up, jerks a thumb over his shoulder, towards the re-shelving cart]
no subject
ah, these carts. tsumugi used to steer these when he was still at yumenosaki as the boring library chairman. he truly died as he lived. ]
What is it...
no subject
The first letters of each title spell out a sentence. "Cat piano on four."
[then he moves to the other shelf, doing similarly]
Meanwhile, the first letters of each title here spell out a score.
[leans back on his heels]
I told the living to play the score on the cat piano. And do you know what happened? They found a key to a door on the fifth floor.
[tilting his head now]
. . . I don't know what all of this means. But there are secrets to this school only those on this side can solve, and the living wouldn't be able to get through that door on the fifth floor without us.
Do you see what I'm getting at?