week 6

[airlockedmods]

[Even with three deaths two weeks in a row, life in the Fantasy Sweet returns to some semblance of normalcy come Sunday morning. The messes are cleaned up, the bodies are safe in the morgue (or in Kip's case, still in a liquor bottle in the garden) and with this new week comes a fresh crop of returning memories.

There is no new floor this week.

Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday



[ooc: Don't forget to to turn in your activity for week 5, submit your memory regains and put in your threads for the Benefactors!]

Comments

[misanthropicprinciple]

[So Sunday was a friggin' mess, and anyone who caught a glimpse of Yuuri's awful state yesterday might understand why Junpei was scarce, too. Junpei himself actually isn't doing too badly, now that a day's rest and care seems to done her some good.

Monday morning finds him in the fourth floor rest area after doing his one shirt's worth of laundry in the first floor bathroom. Until his flannel dries, he's wearing something fucking adorable, which could be one reason he's up in the one room probably no one wants to visit. This has to be another Tenmeowji joke. He just knows it.

In the meantime, he's removed the silly paw coverings (whether or not they were, ah, originally removable) and is sprawled comfortably in the corner of the room with his papers, a few writing implements, and a cutting board from the kitchen laid like a lapdesk across his legs. Michi, his pigeon, and Tie, Finn's, are hopping around to keep him company as, with greatest concentration, he uses his robotic arm to pick up a pencil and try--slowly, pain-stakingly--to write.

He switches on and off to his left, but honestly, the results are pretty similar. Still, he's so focused on what he's doing he won't hear anyone come in.

Later, still in his kigu, he moves on to the dance studio, where, carefully, he's rapping his knuckles against the glass along the left wall to see if any of it sounds different.

By evening, he's gotten bored enough (read: lonely enough) to come back down to the dining room, where he sits at one of the smaller tables and plays idly with a couple decks of cards.]

dining room

[scourgingstars]

[You know what's funny about wanting to avoid people? It's godsdamned impossible in a place with only four floors and eleven other people.]

[Such was his luck, and unless he wanted to hide out in the morgue (which was sounding more like a good idea by the hour) Ardyn just had to accept this as his fate and live with it. People and their aggravating feelings and whatever miserable state he was in and--]

...You're actually wearing one of those.

[--and much more important priorities.]

[misanthropicprinciple]

[Thousand-year stare.]

Do you know how many shirts I have left, Ardyn? One. I have one shirt that hasn't been slashed open and soaked in my own blood, and that's because Cece had it for a week. How are you?

[He cuts the deck he's using once more and shuffles it back together. His dexterity seems to be improving, at least.]

[scourgingstars]

[you know what, fair. and without missing a beat:] Quite miserable, as per usual.

['ha ha i'm dead inside']

At least you've still a sense of humor about it.

[misanthropicprinciple]

Yeah, my funny bone's in the other arm. They've got a long ways to go before they knock the sarcastic asshattery out of me. [A pause.] Ass... haberdashery? Wait, no, that's buttons, I think.

[He straightens the deck a couple times against the tabletop, then spreads it face-up for Ardyn.]

Hey, do you have the same kinds of card suits where you come from?

[scourgingstars]

It's both, or was last I knew.

[fuck if i know what dialect of pseudolatin/pseudoenglish eos uses]

You do know that's a difficult question to answer if I don't know what suits your familiar with, do you not?

[you semantic fuck just answer him]

[misanthropicprinciple]

[He points to an example card, each in turn.]

Hearts, spades, clubs, diamonds. Numbers go up to ten, then there are three face cards: jack, queen, king. Aces either beat them or count as just one, depending on the game. Jokers are usually wild.

[He considers, then slides out the king of spades.]

Spades are also known as swords, sometimes.

[Look, Ardyn, it's you.]

rest area

[buddyoldpal]

[ Guess who's here in a warm, soft kigu but also still a fucking asshole so he creeps up on your specifically to scare the shit out of you?

Obviously, it's Nishitani. ]

Workin' on yer strokes?

[misanthropicprinciple]

Gahaaaah!

[SNAP goes the pencil. Alas, pencil, we knew ye too little.]

Oh my god... Nishitani-san... [Junpei puts a hand to his chest and remembers how to breathe.] Scaring me to death probably still counts as murder, man!

[buddyoldpal]

[ Nishitani gets a good laugh out of that. Sorry, Junpei. ]

Hah! My bad, my bad, Tenmyouji-kun! Ya looked so damn intent, I figured I'd mess with ya a little.

[misanthropicprinciple]

You're the type who used to mess with cram school nerds, aren't you. I don't know why I'm surprised.

[You know, apart from Nishitani coming up and SURPRISING HIM.]

[buddyoldpal]

Ya better believe it. Wasn't much the type fer school either, y'know?

[ He has always been and will forever be a delinquent. ]

Real good with calligraphy though, gotta have nice handwritin' ta slap yer fancy title in people's faces.

[misanthropicprinciple]

Really? I mean, that makes sense. Shit, man, if we had a brush, you could make a nicer title for your door.

[He looks down at his prosthetic hand and opens and closes it once.]

As it is, I'm just trying to get enough functionality back to write...

dining room

[everylittlesecret]

[Oh hey, someone is going to put a plate in front you, Junpei.]

Pumpkin cookies. Fresh. Want some?

[Made with chocolate chips and everything.]

[misanthropicprinciple]

...People put pumpkins in cookies?

[Junpei, what the fuck, you are Japanese, you have NO room to talk about weird ingredient combinations.]

[everylittlesecret]

Yes? Why wouldn't they? Pumpkins might be a gourd, but they are more of a fruit than a vegetable gourd. At least taste wise.

[You gonna try it or what.]

[misanthropicprinciple]

Huh. I wouldn't've thought.

[But here we go, of course he's gonna eat a cookie. He tries a bite.]

--Mm! 'S good! [Takes another, bolder bite, then snatches another cookie from the plate because he's a selfish jerk.] Hahaha, mine now.

[everylittlesecret]

[She snorts and starts laughing.]

Please. I got more in the kitchen. Going to make pumpkin bread tomorrow with the rest of it.

[misanthropicprinciple]

So you make different breads, too? Wonder if you could make karepan.

dance studio

[motherfucking_ghost]

What the fuck are you doing?

[Church leans in the doorway, raising his eyebrows at the ensemble. He's still not wearing any kigu yet today, but give him time. He'll succumb to the fluffy warmth eventually.]

Rhetorical question, I know what you're looking for, but seriously, the mirrors?

[misanthropicprinciple]

Rule 6-A: We're not allowed to mess with any surveillance camera, door, lock, wall, floor, ceiling, computer, air vent, or other structure or machinery.

[He looks back at Church, metal palm against the glass because that won't leave finger smudges.]

Didn't say anything about mirrors. And I was wondering what those flowers could mean. Everywhere else it's roses.

[motherfucking_ghost]

He could argue that mirrors are walls. I happened to not break any last time, thankfully.

[Okay, he'll bite, though, and wander to the flowers.] I...hadn't noticed? I mean the garden's got plenty of different flowers. Roses are just like...Bachelor ceremony stuff. But yeah, I guess they do stick out. I dunno, I moved them out of the way. Only struck me as weird to put something like that in a dance hall where it could get knocked over by errant ballerina legs.

[misanthropicprinciple]

He could argue it, but for right now, it's a blank spot in the rules I'm happy to poke at for the sake of having something to do.

[Let the detective detect.]

There's also the matter of the building's design. If we let ourselves wonder if the stars out there aren't even stars--or aren't "out there" as much as they'd like us to believe--then the logical place to hide more rooms is right here. [He waves a hand at the whole left wall in general. The space on each of the upper floors above the garden and pool.] Not that we can trust these assholes to be logical, but that's what makes sense from a building point of view.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Huh. No, I get it, it's a big gap in the design if the stars aren't really stars. Honestly, I never really stopped to question that. But when you're used to space, being put on a space station for reality shows doesn't seem all that implausible.

[misanthropicprinciple]

Yeah. Angel--Angel said the same thing.

[There's still darkness knotted to her name, but Junpei shakes his head and crosses his arms.]

But there are things that don't add up. And Kip said PAL's physically housed in this building. Somewhere.