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Week 3.
Two more people are dead. Byakuren Hijiri has been murdered and Undyne has been executed. That brings us up to four deaths and twenty-five remaining Participants. You're doing well. Take all of Saturday to rest and sleep. You've earned it. On Sunday morning, the clock chimes the hour at seven o'clock. With no more bodies to be discovered, it seems you're safe for the time being. That said, you'll be feeling a little groggy when you wake up; it seems you've remembered something else. Or was that another really bizarre dream? Like last week, there's a new floor to explore. A reward for your efforts, of course. There's something else new, however, and as you approach the foyer you might hear the beautiful sound of... chickens? Chickens. Those are definitely chickens. It looks like Tabby's petition has worked, you have chosen chickens. Perhaps even more important are the rule changes, effective immediately. You might want to take note of them. |
SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY
[OOC: Welcome to week three of Trustfell! Save your threads for coins and the coming week's activity check; don't forget to check in to this week's activity check and submit your memory regains as well!
The Letters and Switchboard posts are still active, for the sake of contacting the jerk who's keeping you here, to be used at your leisure!]
SUNDAY
🐔
...Are those chickens.
Logan can be found for most of the morning with the chickens. He's switched over to the school uniform which looks... really weird on him. He's scrawnier under the armor than one would probably think. He's only wearing the uniform's shirt, pants, and shoes (no coat or tie) and he's got the sleeves rolled up a bit to pet the chickens. There are scars going up his arms as well and like the ones on the backs of his hands, they're old and some are faded. He's crouched down with the chickens, petting them and looking pretty pleased for once. This is probably the most relaxed he's been in murderschool. And of course it involves chickens. This is a Fable character, after all.
Later in the day Logan has changed back into his usual outfit and he can be found exploring the third floor. He doesn't spend long in the gym or the dojo, but he'll be spending most of the evening in the shooting range. The missing crossbow is a bit of a concern, but he's mostly stuck on the fact that of course they got this room after Reaver died. Of course they did. Everything has to remind him of Reaver somehow but this is just getting ridiculous.
He'll spend most of his time studying the crossbows like he's considering trying to use one, but eventually he'll move onto the bullets, tipping his head a bit as he considers them. They might actually fit the Golden Gun... Hmm. He'll take a box to test it out.]
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If it wasn't clear, she has absolutely no idea what she's doing. Surely a great thing in murderschool!
The other place of interest to Youko is the Dojo. What on earth is it supposed to be used for...? If she waits here to see what the other people do with it, maybe she can figure it out. ]
shooting range;
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Well, maybe it's not that bad, but Hibiki starts to bond with the chickens immediately. While they might shy away from everyone else, Hibiki has taken a chair from the dining room and has one in her lap. The white hen is already her favorite, and she's named her Dorika. The other three are eating and socializing around her like children waiting to be called on. One thing is obvious—they are much, much more social to her than they are to others.]
You're so fluffy~! Ehehe, look at your pretty beak, too! You and all of your sisters are so cute!
[Please do come to her and talk about chickens.
She'll later be in the gym. Finally, a place she can exercise without feeling judged for it. Please don't kill anyone in here, her last exercise room was the ballroom.
Aside from looking the room over, Hibiki can be found practicing some dance moves from what is probably a routine, but she doesn't look very confident. It's more like she's trying to remember or copy something than dancing a routine she knows over and over. If an idol dancing alone in a gym isn't enough to catch anyone's attention...
...maybe the fact that she brought Dorika with her will. Yeah. Hibiki's going to take this chicken until tells her not to. She'll even speak to the chicken, and can be caught saying to her:]
You thought it was weird, too, Dorika? That's what I've been sayin' the entire time!
[Please just. Don't ask. At least she's in a better mood than yesterday?]
chickens
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Gym
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chickens
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Chickens
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gym
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It was even nicer when he headed over to that mysterious vending machine and managed to get an old friend out of it, along with some other assorted useless nonsense. Given that, for all intents and purposes, Beedrill has been stuck in a goddamn vending machine all week, the first place Giovanni can be seen in the morning is in the dining hall, where he's eating a toasted ham sandwich and sitting next to... uh... a wasp that is only slightly smaller than some of the students that has massive extra stingers on its forearms. It's... currently eating some grape jelly out of a bowl.
Shortly after that, he leaves a sheet of paper in the kitchen, which says as follows:]
If you're interested in doing nighttime patrols, I'm thinking of organizing a meeting tomorrow night to discuss our plan of action and our schedule. That will all be determined based on who, precisely, signs up, of course, so if you have some basic combat training or are just good at this sort of thing then please consider signing up.
[...so there's that, then! After that, he... finally goes to investigate those damn chickens everyone's been raising a fuss about, because he's really curious about the things. ...when he sees them, though, he's not particularly impressed. Beedrill is out with him, and the Pokemon... has kind of backed one of the chickens into a corner --- less out of any kind of killing intent, but more to see if the chicken attacks him.
...it's just clucking in confusion and possibly terror.]
...do these things... do anything, I wonder...? They seem a bit pointless, honestly...
[Of course, when he manages to tear himself away from that, he heads up to... well, he was going to check most of the third floor out, but the dojo seems to have caught his attention more than anything else. He can be seen... mostly surveying it, checking out the inventory and eyeballing measurements. You can definitely see the gears in his head turning if you happen upon him at that point... and hey, maybe he'd be up to a little friendly sparring.]
THE DAMN CHICKENS
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Dining Hall
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note reply
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"What is?"
Mordecai wakes up clutching the blankets above his stomach. He immediately throws them off to unbutton his shirt and check on the faded scar he woke up with. Still there, right where he was stabbed in the dream.
Dislikes: getting stabbed
Or was it a dream? It felt as if it were likely way the hypercattle drive he was cosidereing to help out with would go - minus the stabbing part - but if it was real, did that mean the dream last week also happened? Turning to hotel management sounds like a good plan if he really did get hurt on an adventure, but what did it mean if the universe was going to he destroyed? How long has he had the scar?
What does this all mean?
Mordecai finally gets out of bed, subconsciously holding his hands over where his scar should be whenever not doing anything with them.
He is distracted by the sound of - oh my god he can't believe it. Did the Conductor seriously go through with it?
He spends a minute staring at the chicken room in disbelief before sighing and leaving. At least they have their own closed-off area.
Next stop is the kitchen for breakfast, but not before leaving a note on the fridge.]
Life on Mars Q&A
Lots of people here have shown to be skeptical and/or curious about the fact I live on Mars. I would like to address all of your questions in one session today. Meet me in the library at 6pm and I'll answer them for all of you.
-Mordecai Benmont Jiminy
[If they're all in the same room at the same time, he won't have to answer repeat questions. While he's still there, he prepares some beef - chicken would be easier, but not in good taste - fried with the a bottle of beer for flavoring.]
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Library
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Library
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Kitchen
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Anything to distract him from the deeply unsettling dream he'd had.
Therefore, in the foyer (and out of reach of the chickens), a note has been posted up next to the student profiles. ]
I was looking through the library and found an old journal. Inside there were mostly recipes, poems, and doodles, but I also found a list of names.
Alena
Hilda
Johanna
Lisbeth
Rachel
Ziska
If you want to read the journal or recognize any of the names, come meet me in the dining hall.
- Jean
[ After this point, Jean can be found in the dining hall for the rest of the day. He has two journals laid out in front of him, and appears to diligently copying information from one directly into the other. ]
Dining Hall
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Dining Hall
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dining hall
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Dining Hall
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It was weirdly appropriate, given the circumstances. Stuck in a place where they were forced to kill each other, Morty never doubted that he wasn't going to be on the murdering side of the equation. He was a good kid, with strong morals against doing things like breaking rules or hurting people, and yet the dream he had last night... he was killing hundreds of people. Just tearing them to shreds in a blind rage. And it felt so goddamn real that he wasn't sure if it was just a dream.
He wasn't sure if he could even trust himself anymore.]
[He couldn't get back to sleep after that, so around 6:30 in the morning he finally hopped out of bed for the day, about four hours earlier than normal. Of course, like anyone else, the first thing he noticed were the chickens. He curiously wandered in for about ten minutes, kind of happy that he was part of the movement that got the chickens here in the first place - but he doesn't stick around long. He wasn't really interested in them personally, and honestly they kind of scared him a little so he moves on to check out the new floor, since the kitchen was still closed for thirty minutes.
He skips the shooting range, recognizing it immediately as such. Like he really wants to go anywhere near where guns and other weapons could potentially be... yikes.
So instead, he'll spend some time in the gym, gettin' swol.
..and by that I mean, he'll kind of halfheartedly pick up some 3-pound dumbells and do some pathetic looking crunches with them to waste time. He looks exhausted and not into it at all, but hey! It's something to do at least?
After the gym, he'll check the dojo out for a second, pretty much equally unimpressed with it as the shooting range and go back into the kitchen to finally get some breakfast, now that it was past 7. He comes out victoriously with a bowl of oatmeal and move to eat it in the dining hall, but his time isn't really spent eating it.
It's more spent... resting his chin on his hand and yawning, as he tries not to fall asleep. Hell, he'll probably fall asleep right there anyway, most likely landing face first into his bowl of oatmeal.
Finally, later in the day you can find him in the library where he's attempting to read a murder-mystery (ha), but he looks like he's either having a hard time understanding it because he can't read or maybe he's just too tired to really comprehend what any of the words even say at this point.]
dining hall
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library
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In the afternoon he can be found at the gym, and well. Let's say that a teenager doesn't get ripped as hell just sitting around. Let's also say that Bakugou could probably lift and physically throw a not inconsiderable distance many of the people here, including several of the people larger than him. The point is: he could unironically stare at most people and ask, "do you even lift?"
Finally, near the end of the day, he can be found staring at the bullets in the shooting range because he... uh... happens to have a bunch of things necessary to create a working gun now.
...
Unless stopped, he'll be grabbing all of the bullets still there at the end of the day and dumping them in the incinerator, not yet aware that it's totally useless to do so. He also doesn't know if the incinerator will actually melt the bullets, but again: he tried. He made an effort, and that's what really matters, right?? ]
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incinerator
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After that, she goes up to look at the new floor. The dojo looks promising, all right, especially after Weiss sees a few wooden swords.
She'll go downstairs to change into her Graceside uniform - but keeping her own boots - before going back up there. Weiss picks the thinnest of the swords, balancing it in her left hand. She can be found up there for a while, practicing fencing footwork drills.]
dojo
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she wakes up and sees her usual outfit, folded neatly on a chair. could she risk letting the handful of life fibers Revocs put in every article of clothing escape to infect another universe...? no. there has to be an easy solution.
so, today, Sukuyo's main task is going to be burning her clothes in the incinerator. don't worry, she's still clothed! after all, she remembers what her Nudist Beach uniform is now! thanks, Asuka-chan!]
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Incinerator
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[Dio awoke earlier than usual that evening, startled out of a sound sleep. There was a lot to process in a dream he simply couldn't put a time period to; had it been recent? Had it been years ago? There were a thousand questions and keywords running through his head--what on earth is a Stand, The World, Whitesnake--]
[Whitesnake. Whatever it was, that word stopped his line of thought cold. His questions didn't matter right now. What mattered was one person, one single individual whose association was paired with that incomprehensible word.]
[Dio left his room sometime around seven PM, immediately making his way to the mail room. He'd taken to carrying his journal with him at all times now, fate forbid anyone else find out what was written in it. But right now, he had a letter to write no matter how unlikely it was that it would reach its recipient.]
[In his other hand was a sealed envelope, labeled Enrico Pucci.]
[Some time later found Dio in the dojo--he'd abandoned his scarf and the top half of his uniform and assumed the fighting stance of a boxer, angrily throwing harsh and quick punches at an invisible opponent. Frustration was something he was used to, but it was something he had to master. Anger was a human limitation, unbefitting of someone who was so much more. Unsuited for someone that demanded control of himself, the world, and everything in between.]
[So if he just imagined it was Jonathan he was fighting, one last time, perhaps he could find his concentration once more.]
dojo
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Rakka's dream this night was... not nearly as bad as the first one, actually, if not terribly confusing as well. It really didn't feel like a dream at this point, leaving little doubt in Rakka's mind that it was very real; it was something Rakka was remembering. She was a Haibane.
But... what was a Haibane? And why did they have those rules?
.....And why are there chickens here?
Rakka will be spending most of her morning alternating between the kitchen and the Chickens because wow there are chickens now. She's gone with the relatively simple "Jam on toast" breakfast, which she's munching on while getting a look at the new Chicken coop they had so generously received. In general, Rakka seems... way less stressed then last Sunday, curiously watching the birds scoot around.
Eventually the morning ends, and Rakka has to bid the Chickens farewell before heading up to the third floor to... aimlessly wander around? That's basically what she's doing. Peering into the rooms, getting a good look at them. The Shooting range looks interesting, if no word is better suited for it.
She'll soon be found at the place she really wanted to spend time at: the library. Have you ever seen someone who really loved to read? Well you will now. It's not hard to find her at all, seated at one of the tables, surrounded by small stacks of books (mostly golden picture books) and flipping through them one by one.]
library
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cw: suicide implications, psychological torture- dang sundays are shitshows
"Ashley... none of it was wasted."
"Chris has made one fatal choice today already, and now he must make another."
"If I do one last thing with my life, let me do this!"
Bang. Everything's black.
Ashley wakes up and she doesn't scream, unlike last week. Instead, she is very still, until she is not, until she trembles in her bed and realizes she's been crying since the moment she remembered the gun at his jaw, and now it's playing in a loop on her head.
"None of it was wasted."
Bang. Everything's black.
"None of it..."
Bang.
"None..."
Bang.
If she thought last week was bad, this one... It's a goddamn horror show.
---
Ashley emerges from her room eventually, having wrapped herself in a blanket. It's late afternoon; she's been locked in her room for most of the day. Good news is, that scrubbed skin is healing. It's slowly clearing up, and it looks like she didn't aggravate it. Her black eye has started clearing up too, splotches of yellow among the ugly purple, though it's still puffy and irritated. Must hurt even more, though, since it's very clear that Ashley has been crying, quite hard. It's likely wherever you run into her, her eyes will be bloodshot and red and she will look tired, so so tired.
The night did not treat her well.
Part of the day will be spent curled up in the library, a secluded corner in an attempt at some peace and quiet. There's a wide array of books in front of her-- some textbooks (science, math, coding?), a few various generic novels... There's one that's clearly a romance, from the picture on the cover, but it's dropped to the side, unceremoniously. When she's reading, it's any one of these books (except the last one), but it doesn't really look like she's processing anything. You might find her with one of two ...uh, relatively creepy dolls. She's going to spend quite a bit of time holding on to them, between reading; if you stumble upon her when she's studying the one with little classes, she might be stroking its cheek, or just staring at it, but it's a guarantee she'll be crying.
...So sorry about this.
Eventually, toward the evening, she'll be scuttling around the sewing room, collecting yarn and fabric, all in her arms since the vending machine hasn't seen it fit to give her a bag to carry it all in. Early on in the night, she retreats to her room, and though she probably won't be in the mood to talk, you can still find her in the hallways making her way there.
Boy, this sure is a hot mess of a day.]
hallways
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library oh god
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sewing room
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library
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hallways
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"Okay. Thanks. Wish me luck."
[Susan leaves her room late Sunday morning, jacket zipped over her chest and arms held across her body. She pauses outside the supply room for a few seconds, before going to the kitchen for her usual morning coffee. There's been a new floor opened, she's sure, but she doesn't quite want to deal with that right now.
Afterwards, she spends a few moments poking around in the chicken room, staring through the mesh at the birds in vague disbelief. Of all the things to actually happen...
After that, she goes to the vending machine. The Conductor left a nice little pile of coins for her this morning, and there's no reason to let them go to waste. Anyone passing by might see her sitting with a small pile of gold-and-silver jewelry (and what appears to be a straitjacket) at her side, ignoring it all in favor of studying the black gas mask in her hands.]
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chickens
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There's silence for a moment or two. He hears it all over again from the raspy (slightly slurred?) voice of his mother. He explains the nightmare, she tries to comfort him as she dabs a cloth over his head. He's safe and sound on the 27th floor. But hang on. The what?
The lights flash on and there's his mom in this horrible dress and the biggest, most fake boobs in the history of 1985. Marty doesn't even have time to ask what's going on. From somewhere nearby, a furious voice screams, LORRAINE!
Lorraine turns to the door, fear lacing through her voice. Oh my God, it's your father!
My father? George didn't sound like that.
Through a large set of double doors, a balding, mean looking man and three of his goons bust through the door with no other warning. He stabbed a finger at Marty, face as red as a beet. You're supposed to be in Switzerland, you little son of a bitch!
This wasn't right. This wasn't right this wasn't right this wasn't right! My father?! ]
---
[ The first thing Marty does is investigate the new floor. At first, he's pretty dang impressed! There's a dojo and some kind of workout room or something, which would be pretty great for wasting time. Plus he never really took any karate lessons or anything, so why not learn now? Since he was stuck in this hell hole, at first. He hangs around the dojo for a bit, observing the equipment and the padded floors.
After a while he gets bored and starts his way to the foyer...but what the hell's that noise?
No.
Chickens.
Marty walks into the room with a look of...well, a mix of things. Disgust, because chickens are pretty damn gross. Disappointment, because they're fucking chickens. People were dying in this damn place, and now they all had pet chickens. He'll just stand in there, nose wrinkled and observing the clucking things fluttering around. Why?
After that he'll go to the vending machine., and fish around in his pockets for a few coins. He's not sure what he's going to get, but it'll be something, hopefully? ]
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The brat inside it was the same, of course. He must have done something stupid, because the two of them were in a showdown to the death, fighting to kill, guns blazing...somehow, though, it wasn't enough. She lost the battle. The idiot...no, the asshole, pulled out those strange spears from Lilith...
Asuka had no idea what any of that meant, no matter how much she tried to mull it over. There just wasn't enough information. None of it made any sense.
But she knew what that last part meant. Spears in hand, that strange EVA...ascended into the heavens, halos above its head. The entire sky opened, a vortex, a spiral of rainbows and red rings...Asuka had never seen anything like it before. It was cataclysmic. Beyond compare. Apocalypsis. Third Impact.
Faustus would be captivated. All Asuka could do was bury her head in her pillow and scream.
She was too late. ]
...
[ And when she leaves the room, first thing, to do her daily inventories, the sound of fucking chickens certainly doesn't help her mood at all. She's quiet on her morning run, clearly not in the mood to discuss what she saw until she knows for a fact that it is what it is.
But afterwards, she'll be exploring the new floor. The shooting range would interest her; she hasn't held a real gun in ages, giant or otherwise. She's almost afraid she's getting rusty, but all they have are bows and arrows, despite the presence of bullets. She tries her hand at those for a little while regardless; it's a bit frustrating at first, but once she gets the hang of shooting the targets, it becomes almost cathartic.
She's not much for animal care in the slightest, but she does head down to actually see the damn chickens for herself, just so she can confirm that she's actually fucking awake and this whole thing isn't some kind of horrible dream. And sure enough, they're real as real can be; Asuka almost doesn't even want to touch them, but she just...watches them, throwing crumbs every now and again far away from them once they start getting too close, just so they'll leave her alone.
She's...still not entirely convinced she's not dreaming right now. ]
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She is, however, wearing a new shirt with, err. Byakuren's skirt. Which would explain why it's a little long on her, versus the other skirt she's been wearing.]
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Tsukiyama grinned at the girl.
“The fun ends here!!”
Saying that, Tsukiyama stuck Chie out of the window. If he let go of her, she would go crashing down head first into the ground beneath, meaning certain death.
-
Chie was hoping that she would remember the remaining years she believes to be missing, since she's mentally twenty and her profile says she's twenty-four. This particular dream only covered a few days, but it did at least fill a gap and provide her with answers for a few questions that had been bothering her for a week, like the origin of the whole pet nonsense - she had four whole years of memories where he called her a pet on several occasions and absolutely no explanation for it whatsoever.
Not that having an explanation makes it any less dumb; she is no one's pet.
After breakfast, she's busy exploring the new floor for a while. She stays a little longer in the shooting range than she does in the gym or the dojo, where she stops to take a closer look at the bows and arrows and... bullets but no guns, for some reason. She notices that one of the crossbows appear to be missing, which is sort of weird and makes her tilt her head.
The chicken room is her next destination and she spends a good part of the afternoon there enjoying the presence of ridiculously fluffy chickens. She has her trusty camera with her, ready to take pictures of the stupid fluffy things as she watches them wander around and generally do what chickens do. ]
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A beeping noise.
Operation Phoenix is not the fallback I thought it would be.
An axe.
I guess it's back to the drawing board.
Rick Sanchez is dead, all of these versions of himself, dead, by the hands of...himself.
Grandpa's back, baby! One more swing for the road!
It's enough to get him to open his eyes.]
...Shit, that was fucking AWESOME! [A loud cry into the night.]
---
[One of Rick's first stops, after pestering Logan about the chickens, is at the machine, possibly after harassing Morty about one of his own possessions coming out of there. This thing obviously isn't gonna break anytime soon, so, you know, maybe he should try it out.
Rick comes out of there with a straitjacket slung over his shoulder, a bag of half-eaten sunflower seeds, what looks like...a thong worn over his pants, all while chugging a bottle of sake.
Life is good.
Then he'll head on to do his daily chore, namely, heading to all the rooms and replacing the Conductor's name with "Donald Trump". Feel free to catch him if you see him.]
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MONDAY
PETITION FOR SHIRTLESS DIO
please sign this petition for a new rule declaring that dio should be shirtless all the time. it's NECESSCARY.
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GIFTS
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IN CHICKENLAND
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Time to open presents
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CHICKEN POLL
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PETITION FOR MCDONALDS
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today is apparently petition day
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hmm I wonder
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hello friend mods are here
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daaaaaaad uh i mean library
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librarby
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PETITIONS FOR THE PETITION GOD (but no this one's for cute clothes)
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conference room
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TUESDAY
INCENTIVE.
Ah...if you all would meet in the foyer for a brief while. There's something to be discussed.
[Although, again, it's a little irrelevant whether you're there or not due to the intercom, but it's the thought that counts.
Sorry, Dio.]It's good to see that you've all been amusing yourselves this week - this most recent incident in the hallway notwithstanding, of course. You've recovered well from the loss of two more of your own, and you've been doing very well at removing the killers among you from the group. I think such a thing calls for a reward; after all, no matter how well we do for ourselves, no matter how assured we are or how little we like to dwell on the negative aspects of life, everyone has done something in the past that they would do differently, if given the chance.
I like offering people second chances. Giving them opportunities to alter their fates.
Consider the following: you've been brought here from different times, different worlds...isn't it possible that you can be returned to wherever you'd like in your personal timeline? It would be a chance to change something. Perhaps a chance to say something that you never got to say, or to fix something that you didn't realize was broken until it was too late. For some of you, it would be a chance to change the world.
Wouldn't it?
Take initiative and successfully terminate the exercise in accordance with Rule Seven, and you'll have an opportunity to change fate itself - but for now, whatever your decision may be, you can return to your daily activities. There's nothing more that you're required for today.
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Re: INCENTIVE.
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GIFTS
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Survey
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Re: Survey
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THE CAMPAIGN
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The Anti-McDonald's Campaign
you are doing the lord's work, mordecai and sukuyo
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incinerator
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incinerator
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dining hall!
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Vending Machine
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SADLY BACKTAGS THIS
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ANNOUNCEMENT
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WEDNESDAY
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GIFTS
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(no subject)
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(no subject)
THURSDAY
GIFTS
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