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Betrayal 3: ☆ZRAEL
[ You spill out of the elevator into the Wedding Chapel—the elevator is gone when you look back.
The room is hot, in the buzz and swelter of the electric lights, orchestrated to draw the eye and draw you in. Neon crosses blaze blue and bright, marking off the pews like no-entry signs: this spectacle is one without an audience. The aisle is a silvery mirrored metal, a river that runs to the altar that too is ablaze with light. A mountain of candles both wax and battery-powered burn and flicker, like to consecrate this place against the dark or made in a simulacrum of true hell.
It feels like a mockery, a reminder of everything that's been taken from you—you remember, right? Your love, left to die in the streets, your home set ablaze, the temples of your gods toppled. The way you absorbed the hatred in their eyes, let it crystallize and harden your heart into pure resolve to someday, someday, turn the tables—
It's in the script someone's written for you, in your hand. Now, you have your own history, your own words and you can give those to the audience instead. But enough pain, enough destabilization, and you don't know if you'll want to keep sharing. They've set the stage for someone else, given you a prop, and you feel that. Reality isn't wanted here—no, you need to be larger than life, in this place, to not be devoured by the narrative, reduced to an extra. The script whispers for you to lock that troublesome self away, and try on this new role for size, and you'll be a star.
...but there's no point in casting a top-tier idol like you if you can't put your own spin on it, of course. At the bottom of the script, there's a note someone's written with a smiley-face: "just ad-lib, you're gonna be great :)"
A ring with a huge diamond (is that real? It can't be real, and yet—) sits in a luxurious velvet box.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the basic goal (explore the rooms of the casino) as well as the item that you've been given (Diamond Ring). Only once you leave your starting room does your phone update to display your role's traitor goal (kill someone after putting them in a hopeless situation). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.
There is an exit to the East. ]
The room is hot, in the buzz and swelter of the electric lights, orchestrated to draw the eye and draw you in. Neon crosses blaze blue and bright, marking off the pews like no-entry signs: this spectacle is one without an audience. The aisle is a silvery mirrored metal, a river that runs to the altar that too is ablaze with light. A mountain of candles both wax and battery-powered burn and flicker, like to consecrate this place against the dark or made in a simulacrum of true hell.
It feels like a mockery, a reminder of everything that's been taken from you—you remember, right? Your love, left to die in the streets, your home set ablaze, the temples of your gods toppled. The way you absorbed the hatred in their eyes, let it crystallize and harden your heart into pure resolve to someday, someday, turn the tables—
It's in the script someone's written for you, in your hand. Now, you have your own history, your own words and you can give those to the audience instead. But enough pain, enough destabilization, and you don't know if you'll want to keep sharing. They've set the stage for someone else, given you a prop, and you feel that. Reality isn't wanted here—no, you need to be larger than life, in this place, to not be devoured by the narrative, reduced to an extra. The script whispers for you to lock that troublesome self away, and try on this new role for size, and you'll be a star.
...but there's no point in casting a top-tier idol like you if you can't put your own spin on it, of course. At the bottom of the script, there's a note someone's written with a smiley-face: "just ad-lib, you're gonna be great :)"
A ring with a huge diamond (is that real? It can't be real, and yet—) sits in a luxurious velvet box.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the basic goal (explore the rooms of the casino) as well as the item that you've been given (Diamond Ring). Only once you leave your starting room does your phone update to display your role's traitor goal (kill someone after putting them in a hopeless situation). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.
There is an exit to the East. ]
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[but she's not in the round so rip lance tbh]
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[ after an exaggerated display of thinking, his face lights up with recognition. ]
—Ah! Gyahaha! A lover's spat?
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L☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆nce.
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Hey.
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I feel kinda used! But yeah, I got a few knives, if not anything special.
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Sorry, sorry. I do like you for more than just your ability to help me kill people.
And some knives would be fine, since my own got taken.
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[kisses his cheek and digs out knives.]
Good thing I grabbed a bunch last round, then.
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Thank~you~
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[ he gets a hug too. everyone gets a hug ]
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Cuddles for Diaaaaa]
Dia!
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Such a dreadful end that was! Though they were seen to, a second time is richly deserved, wouldn't you agree?
[ like, they need to murder everyone but starting with more revenge kills seems legit to her ]
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