WEEK 7

[bathymetric]

Another Saturday gone and just like that you wake on Sunday, down five of your number. The largest dent taken out of you at once so far - it's surely noticeable, the head count being cut by a third. Almost enough to make you wonder how many of you will even be left by the next motive or two. Surely this isn't a sustainable rate for body counts to increase... right?

There's a new and, it looks like, final wing of the building to explore, bringing everything full circle. Maybe you'll get some more answers to some of the questions and mysteries of this place there - or at least, you can certainly hope for them. Time to turn your investigative eyes towards one last batch of rooms, who knows what you might find?

Angel remains around at night, her appearances much more common now that... well, she's certainly seen a downtick in necessary surveillance work, hasn't she? The app giving you a line to The Professor remains open, and well... whatever's going on with that ouija in the library continues to happen! You're not suffering from a shortage of leads, at least, even as things get more bizarre.

Something's going to have to give here, eventually. Right?



SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[ ooc: Welcome to your last player case week! AC is over here, regains as always are over here, and... well, enjoy! After this we get to take our big turn towards the Serious. ]

Comments

[philoxenia]

[ On Sunday, she hovers just outside Rhea's room before going in. She's there for entirely too long before she leaves, letter clutched tightly in her hand. She's grabbed Seteth's crest stone, too; she'd rather it not fall into the Professor's hands, if she can help it. Having Rhea's is bad enough.

After that... it's the art room. She works on Anna's first; she's painted flowers as the background. Amaryllis, mistletoe, pink carnations, all woven together like the chains she and Zerinda have worked on. Rose's is next, even though her hand shakes, but there's a brightness to it she hopes comes out. Brian and Sly, she admittedly hadn't known well, but--she takes all four portraits to the memorial. They're still drying a little, but they're here.

She tries not to think about how many portraits she's painted.

After grabbing something from the dining hall, she goes back to the art room. For a while, she just stares at the canvas, and when she tries to draw, she just--

Ends up at the kiln, staring hard at it and debating whether or not she can just burn the canvases she's screwed up. There are quite a few of them, after all. ]

Art room p.2

[bolderfell]

[Oh. Uh. That's not a happy staring-at-the-kiln look.]

...Mira?

[philoxenia]

[ She doesn't jump or anything, but when she turns her head to him, it's like she's looking at him--but seeing something else entirely. She blinks once, then looks to the stack of canvases, then to the kiln, and lets out a frustrated noise. ]

I can't get it right.

[ Her voice doesn't shake. If anything, it might be too steady. ]

[bolderfell]

[Ummm, this is weird and he doesn't like it. He approaches quietly, to one side of her still.]

Can't get what right?

[philoxenia]

[ ... She's quiet, for a while. She at least looks at him when she replies, but there's a distant look in her eyes that's usually not there. ]

Rhea's portrait.

[ Ah. ]

[bolderfell]

...Why don't you take a break. I've got something for you, anyway.

[He moves between her and the kiln and gently kind of herds her towards a table. Perhaps Daisy would be proud.]

[philoxenia]

[ She absolutely would. But Mira lets Therion guide her without any resistance. ]

Well... now I'm very curious. What do you have?

[bolderfell]

[By way of explanation, he pulls a little wooden figure out of his cloak and places it on the table. Holy shit, it has a tiny cloak and everything.]

You wanted to know what one looked like.

[philoxenia]

[ Oh, gosh. Gently, she picks it up. ]

This is lovely, Therion. Thank you so much. [ Aww, look at that-- ] It even has a cloak... It's so cute.

memorial

[mouflon]

[ Okay, so maybe when Mira brings the portraits over to the memorial, she'll find Rin pacing around it, and maybe there are two wreaths of paper flowers in her hands, and—oh, she just noticed Mira out of the corner of her eye. She practically jumps, and definitely has the expression of someone who has just been caught doing something embarrassing. ]

Wh-what are you doing here?!

[ nailed it ]

[philoxenia]

[ Oh. Sup, Rin.

Mira freezes, looking pretty close to a deer in headlights. She looks at Rin, then the canvases in her hands--four of them. Lightly, she clears her throat. ]

I was just-- I finished these, so... [ .... ] I can leave and come back.

[mouflon]

No! [ ... ] I mean... You don't have to. I- I was just looking for someplace to put some things, so...

[philoxenia]

R-right.

[ She hovers a little more at the entrance, before she sort of nods to herself and approaches. She places the portraits--Brian, Sly, Rose... Anna. ]

... I didn't want to make so many, but at least we won't forget them. Not ever.

[mouflon]

[ Rin braces herself to see Rhea's, so it's only natural for her to notice that Rhea isn't there. It makes her wonder, if she and Mira were so close — is that grief something Mira is less willing to share with everyone else? Or... Are her feelings too complicated, now, the way hers have been about Anna?

Ultimately, she doesn't ask. With what her relationship to Rhea had been, it isn't her place to. Instead, she moves, taking a close look at Anna's in particular.

(The flowers — she shifts the wreath of oranges and reds in her hand, bringing it to the front.) ]

Oh — are these still wet?

[philoxenia]

A little bit.

[ Anyone would notice; impossible, really, not to, considering not just the trial but-- so often, Rhea and Mira had been at each other's sides. Her absence is hard to miss, whatever feelings the others have toward her. Mira doesn't blame them.

Mira stares at Anna's, and her chest feels tight. She wonders if she made the right choices in flowers. She hopes she did. They'd had-- it wasn't easy to get along with Anna, sometimes. But Mira had meant it when she said Anna wasn't alone. ]

... It's just hard to look at them, after a while.

[mouflon]

I'm not blaming you, or anything, don't worry. I just don't want to hang something up and smudge the paint, if that's the case.

[ But, she... can leave it at their base, she supposes. She drops Anna's wreath to the floor, and the moves to find Rose's portrait. ]

You did a good job of capturing... the way she felt, I guess.

[philoxenia]

Oh-- I wasn't worried about that.

[ She watches Rin, and then nods. ]

... It's the least I could do for her. [ For all of them. That anger and disgust at the Professor roils up again, and she tamps it down to try to keep herself steady. ] ... It's still hard to believe she's gone.

art room, redux

[nothingcanstop]

[ Having found four, not five, new portraits at the memorial leads Della in one direction. She finds Mira at the kiln. ]

Mira? Honey? ...Are you okay?

[philoxenia]

[ She's doing at least a little better now, but... yeah, still contemplating the kiln. That's normal! She looks to Della, though, then lets out a sigh. ]

I've... never had so much trouble with one of these.

[nothingcanstop]

[ She walks over. ]

...It's always been different, in a way. It's never been her.

[ Oh, Rhea. What have you done to this girl? ]

[philoxenia]

[ She nods, frowning to herself. ]

She left a letter. I... read it this morning, and... I think that's why I'm having so much trouble.

[nothingcanstop]

[ ...Her too, huh? ]

Do...you want to talk about it? About what it said?

[philoxenia]

I think... it might help.

[ Actually, she knows it will. She lets out a breath and crosses over to sit at one of the tables. ]

I'm just-- I don't know where to start.

[nothingcanstop]

[ Well, Della takes a seat next to her. Not opposite, makes it a little hard to hold her hand or hug her if she needs it. ]

...When you think about her... About her face. What does it make you feel?

[philoxenia]

[ ..... oof, that's a hell of a question. ]

... Um. [ She hesitates, and looks up at the ceiling. ] ... Before, or now?