airlockedmods: (Default)
airlockedmods ([personal profile] airlockedmods) wrote in [community profile] theairlock2017-07-01 11:46 pm
Entry tags:

the final week

[Eight weeks. Eight weeks of friendship and love, death and loss, hope and despair all muddled together in a cocktail that's too sweet on the tongue and leaves an acid-y pit in the stomach. With nine of them left (ten counting their dear but lone surviving host), things look darker than ever. Come Sunday morning the last of the Champions missing memories will be returned to them while they sleep. For some of them this will reveal answers, for others it might just be a fate worse than death. They could even be death.

But how does the song go? "It's always darkest before the dawn"?

There are no announcements from PAL this week. Not even morning and evening announcements.


Sunday Monday Tuesday




[ooc: Welcome to endgame, everyone! We're all very proud of you for making it all the way to the end. As you can see this is going to be a short IC week but we promise things will not be going down until this weekend (7/7-7/9). On Tuesday we'll be unveiling the OOC post for what to expect during the final investigation. There is no official AC this week, just a check-in and as mentioned above characters will be at their true canon points on Sunday morning.

Buckle up, kids, the ride's not over yet.]
misanthropicprinciple: (Serious for once in my joke of a life)

[personal profile] misanthropicprinciple 2017-07-02 02:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[Wwwhhhat the fuck. No. He's going to follow his nose right to the source because what even, actually.]

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everylittlesecret: (♪ You wanna know what I really think)

[personal profile] everylittlesecret 2017-07-02 02:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Let's investigate that smell!

Which means Nari will suspiciously look into the dining room. What will she find?]

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scourgingstars: (sing you've got the power and control)

[personal profile] scourgingstars 2017-07-02 02:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[god fuck this satan shit the insomnian needs coffee]

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desperateprayer: (51)

[personal profile] desperateprayer 2017-07-02 02:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Clarith is probably dragged to the dining room and kitchen area so she could eat. She doesn't look happy, and indeed looks as miserable as always since Queenie's execution. ]

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myocordial: (053)

[personal profile] myocordial 2017-07-02 02:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[Well everyone else is going here, so he's just gonna come along as well.]
Edited 2017-07-02 14:46 (UTC)

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pullingdaisies: (r014)

[personal profile] pullingdaisies 2017-07-02 02:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[ ... well if everyone else is coming to get coffee and cinnamon-y food then sure, Yuuri's here for breakfast too. Maybe someone got up early and made them something to put in their faces? ]

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daughterofthemark: (27F. Imprisoned by God's keys)

[personal profile] daughterofthemark 2017-07-02 03:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[Arianna takes a while to arrive. She's woken up to a bit of a shock this morning. Eventually, though, she makes her way to the kitchen to find out what all the commotion is.]

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theundertaker: And let live and let go oh oh oh oh (When you take you gotta give so live)

[personal profile] theundertaker 2017-07-02 03:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[...something smells suspiciously delicious on a Sunday morning and she's not sure if she should trust it or not,

Time to?? Investigate???]

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shikosuki: (Who brings nunchucks to a funeral?)

[personal profile] shikosuki 2017-07-02 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Breakfast...?

He's still in a grumpy mood and wonders if he's just imagining things, so he goes to check who it is making it ]

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scourgingstars: (my affection it comes and goes)

FINAL MEMORY REGAIN SLEEPOVER

[personal profile] scourgingstars 2017-07-02 02:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[Sometime during the day on on Saturday, a note would find its way under everyone's doors.]

We all know what comes next. Even after all that we have remembered, I'm sure we've still things left forgotten.

Gather in the third floor rest area tonight. Sheathe your resentment and frustrations, so that we all might better draw them as a blade against those who truly deserve it--those who orchestrated this, and the AI that put it into motion.

Whatever our memories may bring tonight, we need not face them alone. Not one of us is alone, and I refuse to allow anyone to believe otherwise. Nishitani and Queenie both loved us as family, and this family will not break any further.

When we awake and confront our realities, we will each of us be there for the others. When one should stumble, nine more will pull them back to their feet, and we'll meet this next week together.

(Yes, nine. You are one of us, Diver.)

I'll see you there.

-Ardyn
scourgingstars: (i will deliver)

[personal profile] scourgingstars 2017-07-02 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
['Ifrit, the Infernian. He doesn't share the Glacian's fondness for mankind.']

[He'd walked these steps so many times. Counted them, though any memory of the number was lost to time. This courtyard had been where he taught his brother to fight, and now Ardyn stood across it looking at a distant descendant with Izunia's blue eyes and a three-man Kingsglaive. He turned away with a taunting wave as crystallized magic rushed through corrupted blood...as the Lucian line's magic let him access a single covenant with a single god.]

[A darkened, dead Insomnia lit up with hellfire as the long-dead Infernian himself arose once more to confront the Chosen King who sought to halt the scourge he had wrought...and the vessel watched. Watched as a king and his glaives raised their weapons to stand against their final trial before Ardyn himself.]

[And then he appeared, black and gold armor streaking through the sky on colossal wings made of blades, trailing red banners as though he were the greatest hero known to the planet.

[The Draconian. Bahamut.]

[High above the Citadel, the scourged sky was illuminated by the crystalline light of dozens of swords, the Astral's very own Armiger. And oh, how wonderful it felt to see Ifrit dodge them as they were shot like missiles. How pleased he was to watch the Infernian and Draconian cross blades, and even if Noctis did break off Ifrit's horn it was so vindicating to watch that worthless dragon fight for every inch of ground gained.]

[Ifrit was never supposed to win this fight, and Ardyn knew he wouldn't. He knew long before he saw the wall of swirling ice and heard the language of the gods--of Gentiana, of Shiva.]

['O Chosen King of the Stone, restore the Light to this world.']

[I'm waiting, Noct.]

[Ardyn's eyes snapped open; he still felt the pulse of magic in his head, eyes holding an ethereal magenta glow that was faint, but still present. His breath came ragged and quick, hand pressed to his face--'Champion of the Infernian'. It wasn't only a metaphor for the Starscourge, it was literal. He'd held a covenant with Ifrit, and Noctis had called forth--]

[Bahamut. He dared, he dared stand against Ifrit and his Accursed when all of this was his fault? Ardyn deserved vengeance, he should have burst out of the Citadel right then with his Armiger blazing and...]

[...and...]

[The glow to his eyes began to fade, Ardyn sitting up and looking to the ring on his unsteady right hand. No--that hatred belonged to someone else. He could never forget, would never forgive, would always be spiteful and angry...but that blinding hate was not his to carry anymore.]

[Tenmyouji Ardyn took a slow breath and grounded himself with what mattered; it was Sunday, he was in a hellhole spaceport beyond the middle of nowhere-]

[And he was with his family.]

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misanthropicprinciple: <user name="seskanda" site="tumblr.com"> (Transmission received.)

[personal profile] misanthropicprinciple 2017-07-02 02:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[Junpei remembers everything. Every timeline, every death, poison and machine guns and carbon monoxide and--maybe a couple he doesn't actually remember, because he was killed in his sleep and what the hell, Mira, Jesus.

He remembers Carlos and Akane and the rules of the game, of egging Carlos on to kill the others because humans are shit anyway and the shock of the timelines where Carlos did. The uncomprehending hurt when Carlos betrayed him the one time, the hard-shut feeling when he did the same. (For Akane, he tried to tell himself then; truth, he knows now, but not the whole truth.)

He remembers losing. He remembers winning. And in all of it, one fragment--one brief, misplaced, happy-unhappy moment--shines. Catches the dim light in a way that brings past and present together.

'That way of thinking is completely wrong,' she said, tears glittering in her eyes, jewel-like. 'Being the sole survivor does not make me happy.'

Shame. Adrenaline cooling to something shaky and nervous. Was he wrong?

'There's no point in living once you lose the one you care about the most.'

No, Akane, he thinks, arms tightening around Yuuri and eyes opening to the soft greenness of the rest area. That way of thinking is completely wrong. He realizes now that, in every timeline she engineered for him, he was always the one who lost her, always the one left behind. She never had to be the one to contemplate a history where he didn't exist. Never for long. Not until Delta's Decision Game.

If you lose the ones you care about the most--the life you thought you'd have--you look around you and you care harder.]
Edited 2017-07-02 14:28 (UTC)
desperateprayer: (38)

[personal profile] desperateprayer 2017-07-02 02:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A reunion. A terrifying reunion. One with Yukina, and another with Germaine. She had to have known this was Riliane, with how she stormed off, but still, she left. Prim Marlon was dead and now they simply needed to find Mikina Freezis. Mikaela had been planted in the Millennium Tree Forest, she'd apologized to Rin...

Maybe, things would go smoothly now.


She opens her eyes, but the calm of the memories that she has now don't bring her any comfort. She just lies there, curled up, and she doesn't know what to do. Her memories are so peaceful and benign, she can't even imagine going back to that life. Not after this, after she'd broken...

Not even this seems to help. ]
daughterofthemark: (23F. A crazed black beast)

[personal profile] daughterofthemark 2017-07-02 02:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[Arianna jolts awake. She had dragged Clarith here, checked on everyone, made sure to be the light again for one more night. Even if she was ready to break, she could hold together one more night, and one more after that, on and on like that for as long as they needed her.

Then she'd dreamed of the Calamity.

The Fafnir Knight had unleashed his power again, a now-familiar sight. She'd shouted her strongest Link Orders, the elements themselves obeying her commands. Bertrand had stood fast, the perfect defense, his shield keeping them all safe. What little passed him, Chloe healed and returned in force, handling her War Edge with skill beyond her years. Flavio unleashed arrows like a rainstorm, every last one of them striking true. And at last the monstrosity had fallen, the thousand years of suffering it had caused finally ended.

Or so they'd thought. They'd been taking a moment to rest and celebrate before leaving. She'd been chatting with the Knight. Their guards were down when the Calamity rose again, seeming no worse for wear.

Everything happened so quickly. The Fafnir Knight was stunned. Bertrand, Flavio, and Chloe lay motionless on the ground. Arianna could barely will herself to move. But she did, approaching the horror before them.

Begging her Knight to run. There was still a chance for it to be defeated, as long as he, at least, lived.


She shrinks into herself and does not speak.]
Edited 2017-07-02 14:51 (UTC)

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myocordial: (087)

[personal profile] myocordial 2017-07-02 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[All this final memory - no, final memories, everything that was missing flooding back - all it does is fill in gaps he'd mostly figured out on his own. But having a strong suspicion is different from knowing. And knowing is different from experiencing.

When he wakes he still feels as if he's drenched from the rain, as if his core is damaged, as if he's facing his once enemy now friend. The pain feels real, even though it's just lingering from the memory. His core aches. His heart aches as well, with the feeling of loss all over again. The knowledge that this was it. That everything he'd done in his life... all that he fought for... everything... It all led to this.

"Now we are extinct..."

It really was true...

"Will you remember us, at least?"

Twice over, he knew that now. But it was the first time, the first memory of it, that was strongest.

Angel... Not their Angel, not the friend he loved so much and lost, but the Roidmude Angel... 099. She'd told him once that his plans would lead their race to extinction.

As much as he hated her still, and hated what she had tried to do, it seemed like she wasn't entirely wrong.

As Heart truly wakes, he looks surprisingly calm. Calm because he accepted this, knew this was coming. Surprisingly, because despite that, there's definite tears in his eyes. Another holdover from the memory. He breathes slowly and carefully as he wipes the tears away, but they haven't stopped quite yet.

He places a hand on the center of his chest, where he knows his core is. Where he can feel it. He's still him, after all. Right here and now, he's still him.]
pullingdaisies: (You’d be the only man alive)

[personal profile] pullingdaisies 2017-07-02 03:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It comes through in fits and starts, pouring into the gaps like fresh soil filling the holes and smoothing out the uneven spaces on a newly cleared plot. Naoki Miki's sharp eyes, too probing, too perceptive for her own good. Challenging the club, Yuuri in quiet but subtle ways until she finally throws those words in her face:

"That's just co-dependence, isn't it?!"

And the defensiveness, the anger that comes with the knowledge that Naoki Miki has seen right through her.

Miki joins the club. Slowly, the animosity fades. Kurumi is bitten. The knife gleams in the dim light when Yuuri raises it to the sky. But then, Miki is there and nobody else has to die. They give her the antidote and then horror and terror comes from the skies and Megurigaoka, along with everything that Yuuri has worked herself to the bone for in the past year, burns to the god damned ground. Something fractures in the back of her mind. She ignores it.

They take Megu-nee's car and shoot for St. Isadore University. They pass Namekawa Grade School and
no, no, please god, please I can't, don't show me again-- and then Ruu-chan is with them. Her memories swim like a street in a hazy heatwave. Sometimes she has Ruu. Sometimes she has the bear. Whatever she is at the time, Ruu is always her priority. Her cornerstone. Her last bastion of solidarity in something that's crumbling, slipping between her fingers like water.

The Militants attack them on their first visit. Yuuri gets her scar -- courtesy of Kurumi Ebisuzawa, doing the only thing she could to save a friend's life. The Society girls welcome them with open arms. And they make plans. Plans Yuuri says she can't follow because she has a bear, a sister,
Ruu-chan to care for.

The night that follows is the longest one of her life. Screaming and running and terror, danger at every turn and Yuuri is powerless against all of it. All she can do is protect Ruu-chan. Whatever Ruu-chan might be. The Millitants die, one by one, victims of their own arrogance and their own refusal to trust their fellow survivors but then --

Dawn is breaking over the Saint Isidore University as Yuuri makes her way through the halls, with Ruu at her side. It's quiet now, compared to the chaos before, a healing sort of quiet that settles in when the danger finally passes. As she'd hoped, she finds poor Shino, sat up alone before the others and after an uneasy moment Yuuri is finally able to offer her thanks, on her own behalf as well as Ruu's.

"As long as you never give up, you can always move forward." she hears herself say before she does what she'd finally come here to do. Though it hurts, though it breaks her heart, she asks Shino -- would you take care of her? I can't take Ruu anywhere dangerous. So won't you be her friend?


Yuuri opens her eyes and she understands everything.

There's a dull ache pounding in the front of her skull but it doesn't feel like an injury. It feels like the pain of a set bone, a joint popped back into place -- the sort of pain that has to come with healing. With fixing.

Her eyes sting with tears. She thinks she might be crying for the Yuuri of eight weeks ago, so broken and without hope that the memory of a little girl long gone was the only thing that could make her keep going. For the thought of what that girl might have done, would have done in this place if there hadn't been a promise in her heart to make her keep walking and hands pulling her forward whenever she reached out for help.

You were right, Miki-san. I think that was why I hated you so much.

Junpei's arms are around her, strong and warm. Her family are here with her in the rest area. It's a Sunday morning on the Fantasy Sweet and for the first time in more than twelve months, Wakasa Yuuri is alive and well. ]

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everylittlesecret: (♩ I'm your binocular)

[personal profile] everylittlesecret 2017-07-02 04:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[It's quiet in the small house Nari shares with her cat. She was clearly getting dressed for an outing, humming something to herself as she flits about. Everything seems ready go to. She's packed what looks like a few days worth of supplies in a large pack. With a sigh she turns to the cream colored feline.

"Wanna know something? I woke up this morning with the strangest feeling of happiness... It's okay to be alone. I know I always will be now. There's nothing that will ever change that fate, and I fully accept that. To celebrate, I'm going to Rainier for a hike. I'll be gone a few days, but Mrs. Miller will come check on you."

The redhead shoulders shoulders the pack, smiling. "Cream, if I don't come home, just know I love you."


Waking from this dream feels surreal. Nari can still recall the weight on her shoulder, Cream chirping as she follows her human to the door. It was as if it had just happened and she wasn't laying near a pile of people in a rest area. There's a small, low laugh that slips past her lips.]


Way to go, memories, telling me I'm okay with being alone. Fuck it.

[She grumbles and rolls over, going back to sleep.]
Edited 2017-07-02 16:47 (UTC)
motherfucking_ghost: (a: I'm a motherfuckin ghost)

[personal profile] motherfucking_ghost 2017-07-02 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[Epsilon. The memory. And memory is the key.

Following Wash had been the only course of action he could take. The holographic storage units hummed, their lights gentle, and Epsilon...was the key. To bring down Freelancer, to remember everything that had happened--everything he had forgotten.

Everything the Alpha had ripped from itself in order to survive.

"All A.I. are based on a human mind. And the Director had a theory. He thought, if we can't copy it, we'll just have to do the next best thing."

"They...they split it?"

"Just like a human mind when it's broken; it fragments. It fractures itself to protect itself."

"They
tortured it."

"Like reverse engineering a multiple personality disorder. They presented Alpha with scenario after scenario of stress and danger. When it started to fragment, they harvested those fragments."


The unit pulses, and his head pulses, flashes of light, sound, memories, memory is the key, pounding at his skull. (It's his but it's not his, it's a little bit of everything, it's him and it's Epsilon and it's Wash and make it stop.) They tortured it. They tortured a person, ripped its psyche apart for their little experiments. What does it have to do with the Meta? How do they stop--how do they make it all stop?

"Church, I need you to listen to me. Delta was the logic. He was able to figure out things before anyone else. It's why he left a message for you in a way that he knew only you could find, and in a way that let me see you getting it."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I know what you are. Even if you don't."


His body is robotic but he can apparently still simulate the feeling of a stomach in freefall just fine. Wash lines everything out, the body hopping, feeling nothing when Omega reached him, agreeing with Delta, being alive, being alive like this as a--as a ghost, obviously, him and Tex, even if nobody else--

"Church, there's no such thing as ghosts. You're one of them. You're an A.I. You...are the Alpha."

He hadn't believed Wash, of course. Couldn't. Can't. It sounds like bullshit, because he'd know, right? He'd know if he was an AI, even if he's lost the logic, the anger, the memories. (Alpha Beta Delta Gamma Eta Iota Sigma Omega Theta Epsilon) He's a ghost. Obviously. Whatever the Alpha is, it isn't him, because he's not. He can't be. He can't. He's not some tortured AI that tore itself into tiny fragments of concentrated emotion to survive the horrors, the simulated horrors that it--right? No. Not him. He's Church.

"You're not going to get all the answers you want."

Wash is a sanctimonious piece of self-righteous shit who'd banked on this whole thing, planned it out, ever since the words memory is the key had come out of Church's mouth. Like their fates had been sealed just because Delta was too smart for his own good. (Had he been that smart, that clever, once upon a time? No, because Wash is wrong.)

"Because of the trauma he's been through, he's not going to be able to access most of his functions. He may not even realize his full potential."

It's a blessing that nobody else believes, but it rankles him all the same. Talking about the trauma as if he wasn't there. And it's not even his trauma, it's a computer--it's some dumb computer who made all of this happen, even inadvertently. He didn't just get assigned to some nowhere backwater facility just to be kept safe even though...even though nothing ever happened unless Command or Freelancers were involved. They can't, they can't possibly trust Wash with his craziness from his crazy memory-filled AI, even if he knows, even if he knew everything because Epsilon is the memory and memory is the key and Wash knew all along what happened to Alpha but had to hide it.

He's just Church.

"It's your fight more than anyone else's!"

"I don't care what you say, no, it isn't."

"Church, you'll never get another shot at fixing all of this. I know you don't believe what I've told you, but you need to ask yourself: what if I'm right? If I am, or if you have any doubts, not finding out will haunt you for the rest of your life. Not just finding out about you, but finding out about everyone close to you as well. It's your choice. What's it going to be?"


He has to fix this. If he has any shot of fixing this, he has to take it. Right? He doesn't want to admit to the doubts, the not-there feeling of illness and rising bile that doesn't exist, because that would mean not being sure of himself. He's Church. He's Church. The Alpha is something, someone else. Tex didn't die because of him. Everyone isn't stuck here doing crazy bullshit because of him. Flowers didn't die because of him. The Meta hasn't killed because of him. He didn't spend over a year alone because he's, what, a dangerous piece of technology? Because he's evidence? Why not just store him away with Epsilon, huh, why not just rip the rest of him up, why--why--

He chooses doubt. He has to know. He has to find out. Because Wash hit the nail on the head--if there's a chance to find out what the hell's going on with him and everyone around him, and he doesn't take it? He'll never stop wondering. He'll never stop thinking about it, even when he tries not to. Every time something happens, the little thought is going to eat away at him, is this because of me?

Wash's head is a nightmare of trauma, attempts to organize skeletons back into closets alphabetically, to file shadows away numerically. He can feel the ley lines of Epsilon here before and does not follow them. It's different, this time, to be in someone's head. Because he knows. They both know, now, even if they won't admit it, that this is it, that this is a suicide mission. He tries to ignore the darkness of instability lurking around every one of Wash's corners, tries not to touch, but memories come unbidden at the Counselor's voice--at the Director's voice. He knows these voices, through Wash, and yet it's so...distant. He should know them. Right? He should know them, but he doesn't, because he's broken, because he couldn't live with his own memories and pried them off for someone else to deal with.

"How much time do you need?"

"Whatever you can get me. When the EMP goes off--"

"When it goes off, I'll be fine. It only affects computers, remember? And I? Am a motherfucking ghost."


It's his cue. He jumps from Washington's head to the Meta's, and at first it's a cacophony of noise that threatens to drown out his every thought before he has it. But the noise starts to settle into voices.

Alpha. He's here. We missed you.

Time slows to a crawl. These multicolored beings, these fragments, these AI, they embrace his presence with such fervent acceptance that he nearly jumps back out. Tex. (Beta.) Tex is here. He finally found her after all this time. They have time. They have seconds of time, but it stretches out by the power of AI, of thought faster than light. He knows them all, but he doesn't. He doesn't know them, but they fit against him, no matter how corrupted or hollowed out or twisted or flame-licked, they fit in the holes of him he never knew he had.

The Meta's mind buckles in the chaos of all these voices and all these AI, and they know what's coming, because the EMP has gone off, because they don't have any time left, so they might as well spend it together.

He's never felt so complete.

He never realized he hadn't been complete.

When he wakes, when the EMP wave hits, a blinding light, his heart is racing, his skin is crawling, he scrambles out from under the blankets (and Ardyn's coat) and away, away, because this is all wrong. This is all wrong. He's not an AI, he refuses that PAL be right. If he's only a few years old, then what about his other memories? The residuals from the mind he was copied from--no, but aren't they his? What about Tex? He can't have made those up. He can't. Weren't they real? Sidewinder, he knows that like the back of his hand, he had to have been there, why would he make it up? He's not broken, he's not full of holes, he's not an amnesic tormented piece of fucked up software that was meant to be forgotten.

Maybe they're all dead after all. Here. Here, they might all be dead, there might not be any homes to go back to, because he can't, now he can't take them with him, because they're dead and he's dead and Epsilon is the only survivor and memory is the key and he knows, even though he wants to believe he's a ghost, he knows this is the last memory he'll ever get.

Everything feels wrong, like from a dream, even his own body, maybe especially that--metal and wires to light and energy, brain tissue pulsing with crazy and a bright bright wave of--this isn't his, none of this is his, it's not real, or maybe this isn't real, because he can't be this.

(He's not a glass soldier, he's a glass fragment of a dream of a thought of someone who wasn't supposed to be; he is shattered glass.)]

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misanthropicprinciple: <user name="keycrash" site="tumblr.com"> (Action hero to the rescue!)

[personal profile] misanthropicprinciple 2017-07-02 02:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's a new sign affixed with plaid duct tape outside the dining room door today, done almost like calligraphy in black ink from the tattoo parlor:]

VIVE HODIE

[Junpei himself seems to be busy around the pool today, though he's left the door to Room 8 wide open.]

Locked to whoever, for whatever reason, might choose to investigate Finn's bed in Room 8:

[Anyone messing with Finn's duvet this morning might notice something... odd about it. A strange weight in the middle of it, or rustling that sounds more like sheets of paper than sheets of silk.

Taking the duvet cover off reveals that someone cut open the duvet within. Inside are weeks' worth of paper notes, all written in clear, collegiate handwriting that hasn't been seen in this mansion in quite some time. It's not Finn's tiny handwriting, that's for sure.]
Edited 2017-07-02 14:45 (UTC)

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goteachother: (beaming)

Meeting Time

[personal profile] goteachother 2017-07-02 04:44 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's platters of french toast, tea and coffee, sausage and bacon. There's from scratch strawberry syrup and bowls of cinnamon apples and syrup. There's candles burning (where did they get candles?) and music playing softly in the background (but where is it coming from?).
Queenie is standing at the head of the table, balanced confidently on a chair to put her above the others. She grins, waves her wand, and Kip's robe melts away to leave her in a silvery pink dress.]


ALright alright... I know everyone's got lotsa questions so lets just... start at the beginning.

I don't know what happened on your end but I went from the courtroom, with all of you, to a... [Nose wrinkle.] a real little room? More like a cell really. I dunno what he did but PAL didn' wanna see me dead. We talked a little... he told me he's done. No more murder, no more fightin... he can't get us outta here but he ain' gonna make us play the game anymore.

He gave me a choice... run away with him. [She looks a little sheepish and kind of shrugs, offers Clarith a tilt of her head. Really what can you do when a murderous AI has a crush on you?] Or come back to you and "await rescue".

I know most of us gave up on that idea an awful long time ago but... I don't think he'd have put it on the table unless it were a possibility. And-

And he's staying here. With us. You can be as mad as you want but anyone says something bad about him and I'll jink your tongue out of your mouth so fast your head will spin.

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Re: Meeting Time

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desperateprayer: (92)

LET'S HAVE A FUCKING WEDDING OR THREE - the idea

[personal profile] desperateprayer 2017-07-02 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ After the meeting and breakfast, Clarith returns to her room. And then she goes and gets her Bible and changes into her nun clothes. With her renewed vigor for life, there is an idea. And so, she goes to the first floor foyer, leaving a few notes in the open for everyone.

Please meet me in the first floor foyer. There's something I want to do.

- Sister Clarith


When people arrive, she's sitting up at the top of the stairs, so she can stand over people and project easier. And she seems to have some kind of idea brewing. ]

...I want, before anything else, to do something. I want to offer my services as a nun. Not for something sad this time, but for something happy. For those who choose it, I would like to marry them. I think... We could all do with some joy in our lives. A celebration of the love and kinship we've found. So... Who wants to have a wedding?
Edited 2017-07-02 20:48 (UTC)

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motherfucking_ghost: (looking at you buddy)

[personal profile] motherfucking_ghost 2017-07-03 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
[After Queenie...listen, he's not having a good day. Funny ha-ha Church is mostly on the backburner today. He might be around-ish, but mostly he's going to be kind of a hermit in room 7. Don't worry, he's kept the door open, because he knows people will want to say things to him. He's painfully self-aware sometimes.

While he's doing his dumb manly brooding, he's also going to sort through his regain shit to see if he's gotten anything good and maybe see what shit he can add to a yard sard.

...Some of the newest items are very suggestive. Lingerie? Really? What's this cloth? And hey about that cake...etc etc.]

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goteachother: (concentrating)

Sleepover~

[personal profile] goteachother 2017-07-03 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
[She's pretty sure that most people don't want to be in here. To a point, she understands that. But they can't just avoid every room that something unfortunate happened in. More than that the reason they had decided to use this room in the first place was because it was somewhere she felt comfortable.

She doesn't remember what happened, there's a few fragments that don't make sense, pieces that she can't place the context for. Maybe that's enough to give her a subconscious idea that she doesn't want to be in the particular side Tani had been found in but she was here, cuddled up with her wampus plushie whose colors had darkened, leaving him as a dark silver tabby instead of ginger. And now there was a pink silk tie around his neck.

But the doors to the rest area are thrown open, jars of bluebell flames acting as a sort of nightlight while she reads by wandlight. Clearly winding down for bed and anyone who cares to join her is welcome to.

Now if only she could find her place in this book.]

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