Week 5

[airlockedmods]

[As with the weeks before, life in the Fantasy Sweet returns to something resembling normalcy with shocking efficiency. The second floor rest area and Adventure Zone Death Orb Room are spotless again, the demon glitter has been vacuumed, the deflated orbs have been replaced. It's like none of it ever happened, like three more friends aren't dead and stored away in the guest house morgue.

There's a new floor to explore, their "reward" for a job well done.]

Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday



[ooc: Don't forget to to turn in your activity for week 4, submit your memory regains and put in your threads for the Benefactors!]

Comments

[misanthropicprinciple]

Wow...

[Seven years old making dresses, daaaamn.]

When I was seven... ahhah. [He rubs the back of his head, glancing away.] You know, I guess I was already getting my start on the things I do.

[goteachother]

[Okay seven and making pillowcases and nightgowns, probably, but still.

And by hand too, mind you.]

The things you do... ya keep bein vague, honey.

[A brow lift.] Ya don' wanna tell me what that is, do ya?

[misanthropicprinciple]

[He rubs his upper arm, half-rueful, half-nostalgic.]

Getting into trouble. Sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. ...Following my best friend wherever she decided we should go.

[goteachother]

At that age 's all anyone's good for. Making trouble is what kids do.

But stickin yer nose in other people's business? Tha's your job now, ain it?

[misanthropicprinciple]

Sure is. Good thing I got an early start, right? Think I sat my first stakeout when I was... hmm, about twelve, probably? About that age.

[goteachother]

Oh nooo... did little Junpei have a little aluminum badge too?

[Please say yes, she'll squeal at the idea of bitty Junpei with a little fake badge stalking his neighbor's cat or something.]

[misanthropicprinciple]

At twelve I was a little old for dress-up, but I did have a broom. You know, for beating up bad guys with.

[goteachother]

Aww come on, a badge is neat, no matter what age.

I suppose a broom is better than a toy gun... [Something dark flickers over her expression but she shakes her head, brushes it aside and smiles.]

[misanthropicprinciple]

Well, thankfully, the targets never turned up. We probably would've been in way over our heads if they had.

[He's not sure what that flicker means, but it's a bad time to be talking about weapons, isn't it?]

So all's well that ends well.

[goteachother]

[Too many boys, barely more than children, have gone off to war with real guns for the idea of toy guns to be anything more that horrible in her time.]

Just who exactly were you staking out, Junpei? Goodness.

[misanthropicprinciple]

...It's actually kind of a gruesome story. I don't mind talking about it, but, uh. We've all had a rough week.

[Queenie's here in Kip's room to mourn. He doesn't want to make things worse.]

[goteachother]

Gruesome?

[She repeats the word and just shakes her head a little. No, maybe not the best idea.]

Maybe another time then... [Like never.]