pandatreasure (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pandatreasure) wrote2017-12-24 12:44 am
pandatreasure) wrote2017-12-24 12:44 am
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
[sighs. . . deeply]
Exciting.
no subject
Did it disturb you that they didn't even bother to aim?
no subject
I thought it was a real blast.
no subject
[hahahahahaahaha]
no subject
[he was somewhat proud of that one, actually]
no subject
[coughs]
I still don't forgive you. You understand, right?
no subject
[of course he does. he never expected anything remotely close to forgiveness in the first place]
no subject
[It would be very little with how they were anyway.]
Ah, but I wonder if you've considered a certain possibility, Kurusu-san.
no subject
What possibility?
no subject
Of course, it's a secret.
Come closer and I'll whisper it to you.
no subject
no subject
no subject
[no, that's a lie]
[he knows exactly what to think. and he thinks he knows exactly why she told him that: this isn't over, and it never will be.]
no subject
[hee hee hee~]
Don't tell anyone, all right? It's a secret, after all.
no subject
[gone is the repentant look, the sincere contriteness and willingness to let her have her fun with him. his eyes flash with the spark of something hot and fiery, with something akin to a warning]
This is between you and I, Erika.
The moment you try to involve someone else is the moment I stop playing nice.
no subject
--It's true Honda Futayo betrayed me as well, but I generously forgave her.
Indeed, if anything... persons such as Kurosaki Ichigo did me a great service.
Even Akechi Goro, and anyone else Kurusu-san would care to name, did so as well, in their own little way.
Therefore, Kurusu-san's little statement just now is a non-sequitur, isn't it? ...I really think so, at least.
no subject
[he's still tense, shoulders squared, some of the fire in his eyes fading but not enough to completely extinguish his wary look]
So long as you understand that.
[a breath, chin tilted up]
Then come at me.