Entry tags:
Betrayal - sensitIV
[ You spill out of the elevator onto a Bloody Room— the elevator is gone when you look back.
How . . . how appropriately named. It looks like it used to be someone's bedroom - a child's, perhaps, from how the walls have bright colors and animal print, although the colors have long since faded and the animal print is peeling. Now it looks creepy with all of the blood - and there is a lot. Did a murder happen here? Did two? Three? No matter the number, it seems like it's not enough to explain the numerous bloody handprints that claw up all four walls, reaching even the ceiling, and after a certain point below it seems like the whole room was flooded with blood, matching mid-waist on average. That's really concerning!
Aside from . . . all the blood, there is a twin sized bed - the mystery, really, is how this bed ended up not being so bloody; although there are stains against the wood that indicate handprints, the sheets themselves are mostly clean and white except for one handprint on the corner. It's also entirely too big for a child, sized for an adult; across it, there is a vanity and several full-length mirrors aligned to allow someone to look at themself in every angle. Sitting on the vanity is a white veil, flowery and sheer; hanging on one of the mirrors is one near-perfectly intact bridal dress, completely in white - except for the bloody handprint square against the chest.
You can't help looking at the veil, the dress - and feel a tightening in your chest and a flood of emotions overwhelms you briefly - jealous, ugly, and lonely. Spiteful-- fine, so unwanted were they? Then this would be the end of it. A death that would marr the happiness the other sought to obtain by abandoning it, and the letter penned at the desk would make certain everyone knew whose feet to lay blame out. A knife in the drawer ready to be buried in the wrists and soon everything would be done— none of those feelings are yours. They exist like reading a letter, a record of someone else's thoughts, someone else's life tucked away inside an envelope. You could open it again, read it until you could imagine it real, but why would you want to? But if you lose your sanity, or are damaged too far, that envelope will open and it will be read again, loud enough to drown you out.
A ring sits on the vanity, with Exael's hologram sitting backwards at the chair there facing towards you and reflecting in none of the mirrors. If you have questions and she's not busy with hosting or another unit, she'll appear here to answer them.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the sanity goal (explore rooms) and your traitor goal (bring someone to the altar and murder them, or otherwise make out with them and then kill them) as well as the item that you've been given (ring). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.
There is one exit: West. ]
How . . . how appropriately named. It looks like it used to be someone's bedroom - a child's, perhaps, from how the walls have bright colors and animal print, although the colors have long since faded and the animal print is peeling. Now it looks creepy with all of the blood - and there is a lot. Did a murder happen here? Did two? Three? No matter the number, it seems like it's not enough to explain the numerous bloody handprints that claw up all four walls, reaching even the ceiling, and after a certain point below it seems like the whole room was flooded with blood, matching mid-waist on average. That's really concerning!
Aside from . . . all the blood, there is a twin sized bed - the mystery, really, is how this bed ended up not being so bloody; although there are stains against the wood that indicate handprints, the sheets themselves are mostly clean and white except for one handprint on the corner. It's also entirely too big for a child, sized for an adult; across it, there is a vanity and several full-length mirrors aligned to allow someone to look at themself in every angle. Sitting on the vanity is a white veil, flowery and sheer; hanging on one of the mirrors is one near-perfectly intact bridal dress, completely in white - except for the bloody handprint square against the chest.
You can't help looking at the veil, the dress - and feel a tightening in your chest and a flood of emotions overwhelms you briefly - jealous, ugly, and lonely. Spiteful-- fine, so unwanted were they? Then this would be the end of it. A death that would marr the happiness the other sought to obtain by abandoning it, and the letter penned at the desk would make certain everyone knew whose feet to lay blame out. A knife in the drawer ready to be buried in the wrists and soon everything would be done— none of those feelings are yours. They exist like reading a letter, a record of someone else's thoughts, someone else's life tucked away inside an envelope. You could open it again, read it until you could imagine it real, but why would you want to? But if you lose your sanity, or are damaged too far, that envelope will open and it will be read again, loud enough to drown you out.
A ring sits on the vanity, with Exael's hologram sitting backwards at the chair there facing towards you and reflecting in none of the mirrors. If you have questions and she's not busy with hosting or another unit, she'll appear here to answer them.
A readout on your phone tells you the rules and displays the sanity goal (explore rooms) and your traitor goal (bring someone to the altar and murder them, or otherwise make out with them and then kill them) as well as the item that you've been given (ring). It looks like nothing is stopping you from committing the traitor goal even while you're sane, if you wish to.
There is one exit: West. ]

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which is all of you. where you at. he's back again and feeling real clingy.
also, at this point he's just getting rid of his shirt entirely. there are so many bullet holes it doesn't even resemble a shirt anymore. there's some new blood in his hair though. ]
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Ah, Loki-san, you're back.
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. . . . . . how long was I gone this time?
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From my perspective...? One round.
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Where did you get all that?
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. . .
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Lucifel-- [ he's half relieved to see him, and half just. fretting with guilt. his last run was such a blur at the end,
he's approaching him, reaching out to touch his hand to the other's face. ]
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that, but here ]
Loki-san.
[ letting him touch, though ]
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... he hesitates a little at that look. and the tone, possibly. but he doesn't back off. ]
. . . . . I don't, ... I don't remember exactly what happened after I, [ ...... let's not talk about that actually. ]
You're not going to run off again are you?
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1/2
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... he yawns.]
Oh, did I fall asleep?
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If you're going off on your own again, be careful, okay?
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.... Luci-- [ wait. there's a severe lack of any outside trauma. ]
Persephone-??
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... it's a game. [ with no inflection whatsoever. like he just. forgot how to use his voice, for a moment. ]
I was sort of hoping you wouldn't show up.
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Persephone-san...?
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[holy shit can that still happen??]
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[ his clothes are blood soaked like there were bullets through his right arm and his legs, and his right arm is prone at his side. Dtill, he looks unexpectedly like he's in a good mood. ]
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No, I'm fine. Thank you.
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