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. ]

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[philoxenia]

[ Probably the thing she hates most about this whole motive is that... it kicks in at the absolute worst times. Listen, she tries not to intrude on others' feelings, and for the most part, it's worked, but here, where there are several people she actually knows and she can't know for sure when it'll kick up... yeah, it sucks. Sucks bad.

Especially when something like what Jasper's feeling just sort of hits her like a ton of bricks. It's an anger she's never felt before, and while it makes sense, it's absolutely not what she wants to feel. Not now, or ever. It's already intrusive enough--she wishes her necklace worked, but that would be asking far, far too much. ]

... What? [ It's like she hasn't even registered what Jasper's said, which is probably strange! So is that distracted, vaguely distressed look in her eyes. Or not. Maybe it's just because it's getting close to the end of the week and everything from earlier happened.

She definitely can't look Jasper in the face at all. ] Oh-- Sorry.

[ And there's absolutely no way Jasper could know this, but she's not just apologizing for being in her way. ]

[hardnosed]

[ Jasper, running on anger and grief and extremely uninterested in reading the feelings of others at the best of times, absolutely doesn't know it. All she knows is her own self-pitying self-hatred, and if Mira is going to apologize, that's fine. She should be sorry. Everyone here should be sorry for standing in her way and holding her down, and the ones who should be the sorriest are gone and incapable of feeling anything at all. She's gonna—

Her helmet vanishes into thin air. There's a fresh wave of anger, of course. Her reserves are endless. ]

—Why? Why now?

[ Much like Mira, she's talking about more than one example of unfortunate timing. ]

[philoxenia]

[ More anger, and grief, and she draws in a breath. It shakes and shudders, and Mira's aware that Jasper is one of the last people to provide comfort; she doesn't expect her too, either, and that's fine. She'll deal. It's something familiar, the press of feelings down on her--even her shoulders drop slightly.

It's sharp and cutting, this anger, and Mira doesn't know what to do with it. She can't look Jasper in the face, but she lifts her head. There are a million things she could say, but what she lands on is-- ]

... Have you ever done parkour?

[ Well, okay. ]

[hardnosed]

—what?

[ Well, it doesn't defuse her in any way, but it sure does throw her off! The anger is momentarily supplanted by overwhelming confusion as Jasper blinks down at her. ]

The thing from that book? [ Is that how it's pronounced... ] I didn't know it existed until the machine spat it out.

[philoxenia]

[ ... well, that's a little better! ]

Yes, exactly. The waterpark could be used for more than just swimming, after all. And it could be nice, to-- have something to focus on.

[ ... Has she been thinking about this? Maybe. ]

[hardnosed]

I've got plenty to focus on.

[ And there's another wash of that anger, but it's a reminder of knowledge she already has, not the harshness of it hitting her for the first time. Her eyes fix on the vault door again, though she doesn't yet ready herself to run for it. ]

We're still trapped. We're still here.