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INHUMAN COURTESY

I. PUSHING UP DAISIES

cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror

The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.

It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:

► PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION & REQUITED LOVE
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.

► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.

if your character has heard of similar diseases in their home world, they're absolutely welcome to share their insight on the netherwork or anywhere else
the evolution of the disease can be as gradual, as fast or as severe as you wish it to be
a mini quest to retrieve ingredients for a cure will be available in december or january
by february, all characters should be cured

II. DO NOT PASS GO

cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity

Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.

If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.

When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.

► Ironically, a magical barrier around the Gallows prevents magical/spiritual abilities from functioning. However, characters who roam free still can absolutely sneak in! Be careful not to get caught, though!
► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!

Luckily for you, there are so many prisoners it's a difficult task for the Hierarchy to always keep track of all of them. Your brand, however, is a dead giveaway, so you might as well try and find a way to get rid of it; you might hear through the grapevines that the dead skin of Badaliscus can be used as bandages, and overtime, the brand will fully heal and disappear.

III. TO THE RESCUE

As you attempt to escape, or perhaps once you’ve successfully snuck in, you come across a terrifying spectacle: in front of you, impaled through the shoulder by a spear, a weary humanoid figure covered in blood. The body is being restrained by additional shackles on each arm and leg, which are linked to chains anchored within the walls. There's a guard nearby, armed to the teeth… and still you decide to free them.

The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.

The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”

Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”

It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.

so you’ve chosen to free him, which in turn has generated a future plot point that’ll occur some time in february. some of you WILL see him again.
what he says to you is a clue.
you can answer his question OOCly right here. it’ll have some bearing on the way your character will be approached re: future plot point.
if you've voted no and would still like to participate, you could always allow your character to be convinced or reluctantly dragged by another!

ooc note

► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► You'll find already answered questions just here, and if you'd like to ask new ones, ask them here!
► For fun's sake and similarly to the puck adventure, you may play it out in different groups or on your own, and still obtain the same results as everyone else whether your characters threaded together!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Silco's not exactly a regular -- he doesn't frequent bars for the enjoyment of drinking, but rather for the atmosphere -- but even so, the waitstaff just pointed at a seat in the far end of the diner. Silco led her, but sat with his back against the far wall, so he can look out over the rest of the bar and diner. He gestured to her, to order whenever she was ready.

He didn't really eat around other people, anyway. Another careful habit of a man too paranoid to function in polite society. ]

Order whatever you want. [ He mentioned, before he looked over the rest of the bar. ]

Are they going to be looking for you? Now that you're free?

[An open invitation, huh?

Fukawa hesitates. Just a moment. She scans the menu and tallies the prices, the ingredients. Her stomach may howl, her head may throb, but she knows better than to take a carte blanche for granted. Is anything in this world truly free?

Maybe a shitty opinion. Those came at you in droves.

When the server comes she asks only for soup and a serving of bread. Liquor is tempting but...perhaps not wise. Not yet. Besides, she hates eating in public, and going nuts on an empty stomach would have her bent over a toilet for the rest of the day.]

I'm not sure. Depends how serious they were t-taking those charges. [And what the charges were. No one bothered to define them. Her mouth twists. She picks at a corner of the table and refuses to meet his eye.] It's not something I could stop anyway. I'll probably get pinned again for something no m-matter what I do.

[Be it crimes real or imagined. Syo could tip over the edge any day now, and being a dangerous liability made them an easy target. She'd already been framed for murder twice in the Killing Game.

Watching the tapes later, she saw that Asahina had suggested she might be guilty for a third murder. Syo was the one who took her to task for it, asking if she'd be a special guest suspect every time a body cropped up.

One way or another, she already was. Once the truth came out here no one would believe a word she'd say.

Fukawa finally splits a sliver of wood off, flicking it under the table in disgust.]

If you've b-been accused once, you'll be accused for the rest of your life. There's no such thing as a clean slate.

Of course there isn't.

[ He agreed, automatically. He waved off the server idly -- not interested in taking any chances around a strange girl who he vaguely recognized -- who clearly didn't recognize him? odd -- and that had been accused by the authorities. What if it was an act, after all?

Yes, perhaps there was no overt reason, but that didn't mean that she couldn't still be out for something? Silco was cautious at all times. He only steepled his fingers, considering. ]

That's simply a fact. They're an authority force, they have no need to reduce recidivism. That's what they use, to scare the masses into following along with them. [ Okay, so Silco might have opinions about cops. ]

Regardless, you'll need to keep your head low -- at least until you know how aggressive they will be. [ A pause. ] Hiding out behind your door would certainly keep you out of the Gallows.

Recidivism? [There's a brief smile. Something genuine, even while shrouded in bitter self-pity.] Y-you might be the best spoken person I've met here.

[No matter what life threw at her, she was a writer first and foremost. She'll always be partial to someone who knows the value of words.]

You m-mean run away to the Shadowlands. [The server is returning. She hushes at once and leans back as they set down her order, eyes averted. It gives her time to think the proposition over. The logistics and drawbacks, of which there are several. It plucks her pulse to a higher thrum.

How long would it take for the coast to clear? Days, or weeks? And what of this brand? Her face? They'd done the arrests en masse, and the escape pulled near the same numbers. They would be trying to catch several fugitives at once, and with a disorganized force at that.

Cold comfort to condemned woman. Fukawa dips the bread in the soup and goes for a bite. Then thinks better of it. She rips it half, extending the dry side to the man across the table.]

I c-can't stay out there indefinitely. I'll probably starve. Or g-go nuts and hurl myself down a ravine.

[ The compliment is... unexpected, and it showed on Silco's face. There's a half-second where his single eye blinked a few times, as if he couldn't believe the compliment -- and why would he -- before there's a quirk of a smile, as quick as lightning. Fukawa had no way of knowing how different Silco was, from the place he'd grown up in, but his well-spoken manners were... unusual, for where he was from.

It's how he'd grasped and scrabbled to the top, after all.

Well. That and murder. No biggie.

When she offered the bread, he waved a hand, offering it all to her. He wasn't starving, after all, and Silco really subsisted on a diet that was composed of whisky, cigars, and spite. ]

I'd suggest taking supplies. You could even have friends bring you care packages. [ A beat. ] Well, if you have them.

[ Silco is used to his daughter, who does not have friends her age. ]

But, merely something to think about. Sometimes, keeping your head down after the authorities are after you is the best way for them to forget that you exist. I've done it, so I know it works.

[ Just admitting to that one, huh? ]

[Though not the best with people (perhaps even bottoming out the bracket), she doesn't miss the doubletake. For a split second she worries. It could have sounded patronizing, it could have reminded him of something unpleasant. Then there's the briefest flick of a smile, and no further mention of it.

Fukawa obscures her sudden flurry of nerves with a nibble of bread. She's not surprised he turned the offer down. Rather glad for it, she's starving, but tensions haven't released enough for her to rip in like a beast. If she'd been alone she wouldn't hesitate.]

I...m-maybe. [Who would she trust with that sort of commitment? Moreover, who'd bother? She could ask Lottie, but then she'd have to explain about Syo. Miracles alone has kept that under wraps, how have they been living together all this time without one slip up? Claude, possibly, but she knows so little about him and his motivations. Jonas? No, no, he's so prone to panicking, and clearly unfit to cross the Shadowlands alone. He'd get picked off immediately.

Prospects are grim all around. She shakes her head and mutters.]

Well, I'll figure it out. I've g-got plenty of practice pretending to be invisible.

[Always easy when no one will pay you attention in the first place.

Her next sip of soup is punctuated by a keen stare. He's alluded to a lot of prior infractions already, but nothing in detail. If he's confident enough to confess that much, then is it so wrong to be curious? Would that erode the apparent good will she's been given?]

Do you mean you've d-done it here, or before?

Oh, certainly not here.

[ He said, his tone a little blithe. Silco has nothing to hide, after all, about his... "rap sheet", as it were. He was the leader of an entire city of lawless people. Even the best of them -- the Venerated, Perfect, that they erected statues of -- had been mired in the crime in the city. They all had. It was how they survived.

His lip curled in a almost-fond smile, and he tipped his head back, thinking. Only two things could put that kind of smile on his face, and thankfully, Fukawa probably hasn't met the first one yet. ]

Where I'm from, you live and you die as either fodder, or as a criminal, and I worked my way to the top of it.

So not fodder.

[ He steepled his fingers, as he spoke. ] So I have plenty of experience with the "Authorities", their tactics, and how to lay low. Did you know I helped stage a revolution, in my youth? A failed one, and I can assure you, they were very much out for my blood after.

[Though she spoons up another mouthful of soup, her attention is fixed wholly on him. The man has an odd charisma about him. Maybe that's just the magic of confidence, a miracle elixir that washes stature and scars away, that reshapes the pecking order. Fukawa's never learned the trick to it. She loathes most of those who have.]

So...you had a t-terrible hand dealt to you and you made the most of it. [Sounds familiar. Not that she ever rose to the top of the Killing Game, or even the hellscape she was released unto after, but she's getting by. Using whatever means she has.

Still, she wouldn't call herself a proud criminal. That's Syo's claim to fame, and she was supposed to be retired. Using her prowess for good, not for shits and giggles. What was he, a loan shark? Head of a yakuza gang? Or mafia rather, or whatever it's called in his homeworld. He's clearly not the muscle of any outfit, unless he's got secret magic powers like so many here. She hopes not, that was getting seriously annoying.]

A r-revolution, huh? What, to be the top dog of your own city, or...was there some other entity you were f-fighting against? [Since he's citing authorities and all.] I guess that's not such a bad thing. People sc-scrambling for table scraps are always framed as the villains. Nobody wants to t-take responsibility for how shitty society is. It's easier to say that when b-bad things happen to someone it's totally deserved.

[She sneers. Takes a sharp bite of bread.]

I'm so t-tired of high and mighty people stepping on everyone's necks. People have a right to exist on more than...than crumbs they fish out of the trash!

[Literal or figurative. It's all a lot of bullshit, and nothing in life is fair.]

[ Fukawa's speaking the right words, she has the right language. She understood it, then. What it was like to be forced -- or even born -- into an unwinnable, impossible situation. What it's like to live less than their betters, and what it did to a person.

Yes, Silco was a proud criminal, because the alternative was just to roll over and take what Piltover had given them, which was nothing. Left them to rot as dirt beneath their boots, nothing more than the refuse to kick off the bridge and into the fissures themselves. Her question, though, it's logical, and he answered it frankly.

He had nothing to hide here, after all. People didn't understand the politics of Zaun and Piltover. ]

I was in charge of my city, but we were working toward independence from our... "betters", as they were. We're under the control of another city altogether, and we're little more than their labor.

I don't believe in that. [ He said, his tone harsh. ] We're better than the sump, than the refuse, so if the Hierarchy, or whoever else is subjugating us...

[ The implication, of course, that Silco fully intended on dealing with it. He might not be able to like he did in Zaun, but that didn't mean he couldn't find a new way to make them all stronger. There might not be Shimmer here, but there could be something else. ]

It's funny, how the s-same dynamics repeat over and over. [And by that she means not funny at all.] Why d-does there have to be a losing class in the first place? Wh-whether it's rich or poor, or country against country, or even the b-beautiful versus the ugly! Getting assigned shit b-because of things that were never your fault is so stupid. And then everyone else t-takes more than their fair share, and they all start crying when you ask for yours?

[From the evidence provided, she'd say he was in the right to rebel. A fact that may change should certain elements come to light, but in the interim? She's planting her feet on his side of the line.]

Do you know if there's still a chance they could win, with you g-gone?

This is why you don't Ask, you take.

[ He said it like it was so simple. It wasn't, and even for Zaunites it wasn't that simple. They'd had to demand, cajole, and beg to even threaten to get the attention of those topside, and Silco had been at the head of it. ]

I thought they could, when I arrived.

[ Something had changed, but what? Silco wasn't exactly going to share, on that one. Because a) nobody needed to know about his connection to Jinx, and b) he didn't need anyone to know what he did about his daughter's future. Silco, of course, doesn't have a choice about the words that came out of his mouth next: ]

Maybe if the entire city took enough shimmer to go to war, we could win, but without that, who knows?

[ The only indication that he hadn't chosen the words was the tightness in his jaw. ]

[Fukawa quiets. It's sound advice. A winner's advice.

The problem is that Syo was already following it. She takes in spades, but it's all the wrong things. Fukawa fell in love hard and fast and was spurned at equal speed. Syo soaked up the echoes of that pain and passion and paid it all forward. The boys turned up in alleys and dark rooms, desecrated, splayed on walls, bloody kanji slicking brick and wood and wallpaper. Their names splashed across headlines and nightly news and then in her nightmares.

There had to be peaceable in-between. Even for someone as foul as her, who was denied whatever she asked for and grew too afraid to take. The balance was damn near impossible when neither half could reason with each other. When neither Byakuya-sama nor Komaru were here to rein in her leash. Maybe she should try leaving Syo notes again.

She can't keep taking the fall for her bullshit. Someday it's going to be the last straw, and no kindly stranger will be there to save her.

On the other side of the table, something suspicious is going on.]

Shimmer? [An odd term to throw in the mix. Definitely some culture-specific connotation. He almost looks sorry for having said it, but maybe that's her imagination?] Wh-what's that?

[It's implied that it could shift the tides, so. A type of weapon?]

[ Silco rolled his eyes, just slightly. That the loss of control there had allowed yet another slip, another of Silco's tight control to shatter was the most frustrating of them all. He hated it, this shadow. He'd thought it would be something that he could embrace, just another monster among the rest of them, another beast that slithered like the creature he'd become over the years, but here it was, finding the small tiny cracks in his armor, the things Silco couldn't let go, and it found them, and it exposed them to light.

He hated that. He wanted nothing more than to eradicate this thing, an increasingly important goal, given that it only took once. It would only take one time for Silco's shadow to say what could eventually ruin everything he was doing here.

Thus far it had not, but... Silco knew it was only a matter of time. It would only take one time, and the Shadow knew it too. It was Waiting for it. ]

Ah, yes. It's... a substance where I'm from. [ Read: Drug. ] It makes us stronger, more durable. Our enemies have the advantage of weapons, guns and hextech, whereas we have...nothing.

So we've had to invent our own way to fight back.

[ They might not be in a war yet, but... Hey, they were feared now. One step closer. ]

[Fukawa's mouth turns to a thin line. It must be something unique to his world, otherwise she'd swear he was just talking about taking a line of cocaine. Was that the one that made you super efficient? Steroids helped you compete in sports, but this sounded more intense.

She doesn't know much about drugs. Never cared much for true crime, and detective stories always wore thin. Especially now. She'd spit on a whodunnit if you passed it to her, and anything glorifying the criminal underworld was sure to be trash.

The way he puts it now makes this "shimmer" seem like a necessity, but she can't help feeling put off all the same.]

Oh, [She says at last, and takes another spoonful of soup. Best leave it for now. It wasn't here anyway, it was in his past. And his situation had sounded extraordinarily desperate.]

It's g-getting hard to keep track of what's what. Everyone's got such crazy stories to tell. I guess "hextech" is something unique to your home, too?

Correct.

[ His fingers splayed on the table, it's not here, at least. Certainly, though, he wouldn't put it past Talis to find a way to make it happen here, and that was of concern. Silco didn't have the genius or the mind to re-invent Shimmer. He was a man of logistics, numbers, shipping, and power, but he didn't have the academy-learned competency that Singed came with. Everything he'd gained was a measure of survival, and a need to move towards being out from the yoke, as it were.

It was a thought that he pocketed away for later. There's the concern, but he's not about to voice it to this girl, and certainly not one that he... knows that he knows, but cannot for the life of him place. ]

I think the fact that each of us came from such different worlds is an... interesting feature of this place. It means that our collective knowledge could be...used. Hopefully toward ridding us of something like the...

[ His eyes slid, toward the rest of the diner, then out the window. Looking for interested eyes, looking to see if anyone is watching. ]

Ever-present authorities.

[ Coded language for: The Hierarchy. ]

It w-would be useful, maybe. Depending on who shows up. [Fukawa can't account for anyone herself. Not a single familiar face in the bunch, and how odd was that?

The thought halts her progress now, spoon nearly to her mouth. He seems knowledgeable. Maybe well connected?]

Actually, [she halts, lips pursing. Is it worth the risk? Would any of them be useful? Would any of them want to see her? She doubts it, but all the same, there's things she needs to let them know.] Um. On that note, have you met anyone who mentioned something about Hope's Peak?

[Which might not come up so readily. She isn't sure she's mentioned the name herself until now.

Softer, with a glance aside to check for eavesdroppers.]

Or...something about a k-killing game?

Hm?

[ He looked at her for a moment, curious. Killing game? Hardly. Hope's Peak?

None of these registered to the man, but that didn't mean they wouldn't later, right? He shook his head. ]

A killing game sounds rather dire, doesn't it? I haven't, but I think if I'd heard of something like that, I'd be hard pressed to forget it.

[ However... ]

Is that your world? [ A beat. ] Don't tell me you were involved in something like that?

[ It seemed so...contradictory. To this meek, scared girl in front of him. ]

N-not by choice!

[A protest that comes too hot and too quick. She regrets it the second she says it. She regrets mentioning anything at all. Of course he doesn't know. Why would he? No one was here but her, and now she's gone and said something suspicious, something that marks her as a seedy element.

Sort of like breaking out of prison?

Her shoulders shrink in around her ears. Well, he was already extending her, a probable felon, kindness and understanding. He doesn't sound skittish about the notion, nor appalled. Just politely inquisitive. So, maybe, if there was someone to talk about it to, maybe someone already acquainted with depravity was a solid choice? He'd be less likely to balk or judge, which everyone loved to do. And really, it's not as if there's some dire consequence sitting over her head anymore, alive or dead. The cat was out of the bag at home, and here it barely mattered at all.

She blows her hair out of her face and sets the spoon down.]

Th-that is, I was...trapped. Or deceived, rather. [What is the most concise way to put it? Whittle off the knots and splinters of betrayals, of unimaginable circumstance. What's at the core?] My classmates and I, we were supposed to peacefully attend school at Hope's Peak together. Instead, we woke up inside and all the exits were sealed. No one else was there. We were told we would be allowed to leave, b-but only if you killed someone else.

[Her frown twitches. Her gaze is cast resolutely to the side.]

And you got away with it.

[ The problem, of course, with sharing such a story with Silco, was that he was the type that would excel in such an environment. The hardest part of it all was that he would be immediately looked toward as a culprit, whether he was innocent or not. The man exuded an aura so toxic and polluted, he was practically as vile as the River Pilt that he'd been drowned in itself.

He tipped his head, curious, and with his fingers laced together, index fingers pressed together, he spread his thumbs, almost as if he were questioning it. ]

That all seems rather pointless.

[ He said, with a straight appraisal. What was the point of it? To make children kill each other, find the strongest? Simply drop them in a place like Zaun, and let them grow and become powerful in a place where power would be the most effective tool. Some would, and some would not, but there was no reason to just drop them in a school.

It's not the aim, so much that he has a problem with, it's the method. ]

A measure of someone powerful isn't whether or not they can kill and get away with it, after all. [ Jinx, for one, always left her calling cards, and Silco couldn't be prouder. ]

After all, you only find one kind of killer, then.

[ Yeah. Uh. ]

[Funny, that they should have a second thing in common. The second her condition was revealed, Fukawa was an immediate target in every scenario. Or, as Syo had once put it, A Special Guest Suspect.

His assessment now is an easy mistake to make. It sounded like a contest of the fittest, in which case that hulking Ogre would have readily come out on top. Even Byakuya-sama or Syo herself would have struggled against such a threat. But once you add in the investigative aspects, the accusations, the long days and the forced motivations?]

It w-wasn't about that. [Fukawa sets her elbows on the table and rubs at her forehead. A decidedly less judicial gesture than his.] It was pointless. That was the point — it was only to spread despair. Both for the p-participants, and the p-people watching. Kids killing kids, and all for nothing.

[And the whole time they'd thought the cameras were for the Mastermind to run a proper trial. That the spectacular executions were for their eyes only, morsels of sadism to keep them all on edge. What a bunch of morons they were.]

But...that's why I'm not sure we're dead. I escaped, and I don't remember if something happened to me after. But, none of the others are here. They sh-should be. And tons of people have d-died outside of that game, and still, nothing.

[She shrugs.]

For some reason, I'm the only one here. It's suspicious.

Hm. Well, if they want to see kids killing kids, just let them form gangs. It seems to work well enough.

[ He said, lightly, before Fukawa moved on, and he's left thinking of their predicament. There's already enough doubt instilled in Silco that he isn't quite sure if the place was for a land of the dead. Sure, he's most certainly dead, but what about Jinx? She'd told him she was on the bridge, and Silco remembered that day, vividly. He'd thought she'd died, after all, and had done everything he could to make sure she would survive. He'd remembered her limp body in his arms, and Singed's own anesthesia in his veins -- likely because the man didn't need Silco hovering over both him and his daughter when he'd done so.

But that didn't explain it. None of it. What of Talis? What of Dream who claimed he was immortal? ]

They could have moved on already. [ He said, but it's less convincing than even he could muster. ] Or there's something else going on. You're not alone in thinking about it. I'm not exactly an expert in...the supernatural, but I've been looking into what I can.

What little good it does.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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just checking -- you good to go a few rounds before the next log or are you clearing your plate?

i'll backtag for forever! Let's keep going!

Wonderful ;; please tell her all about Zaun

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CW: descriptions of blood and murder

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Danganronpa Spoilers

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