Vice Director (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sevenvices2016-04-04 05:28 pm
vicedirector) wrote in sevenvices2016-04-04 05:28 pm
week 8
 21 players remaining ♫ monday - thursday Monday morning begins just like the rest, slow and uneasy. At 12pm, every television will go off with its usual bout of static, followed by Katerina's calm, albeit disinterested, voice. "Please gather in the hotel lobby within the next hour." That's all that it says before the televisions turn off. Anyone not in their rooms will hear the voice echoing around them as if through a speaker system, although there are (still) no speakers present. After hearing the motive, characters who choose to explore will find that the void around the town has retracted a bit, and there is now boathouse and lake up North Anyone looking for them will also find that Alisha's spear and Sadie's earmuffs are now gone. >Mingle? This is Week 8's mingle log, covering Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday. Investigations will go up on Friday. When posting toplevels, specify the time and location. If you plan on having any private conversations between characters, remember to let us know in the post linked below. More plot elements will be introduced this week. Mod comments will be occasionally distributed to open toplevels, accordingly. setting rulebook profiles private conversations |
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[Operation "distract self too much to be sad enough to shut down or do a violence" is a go! God, is Clover trying. She was doing so well before all this nonsense and she is trying so goddamn hard.
Apparently she's gunning for this week's death to be hers via hypothermia, though, because she's standing around in a tank top and skirt, hair done up in a high ponytail with one of Lucy's ribbons. No, Clover, tall boots don't make up for not wearing anything even vaguely resembling pants; warmth and fashion can coexist if you really try, please Clover.
The good news: she's brought over a clothing rack with a few hung-up cardigans and jackets on it and she's trying them each on, spinning and posing in front of the mirror she's found, putting them back, trying one she's already tried on like four times again—rinse and repeat.
Someone else might be embarrassed about all this twirling but nah, not Clover, so if anyone walks in she just pauses, poses in their direction instead of the mirror's, and asks:] How's this? [This cardigan's red to match her skirt, but there are like eight of them in various shades of pink and more besides that next to her.]
Thursday late afternoon, kitchen
[Cooking's one of the few things that Clover's really good at, that she actually enjoys here, and eating is a tragically necessary thing anyway so it isn't really too terribly surprising that, despite what week five turned out to be, she's still been as active in the kitchen as ever—but no baking. No sweets, treats, or pastries since. That was supposed to be their thing, every Monday and Thursday; they'd decided that Wednesday, and they would start next week, but...
Mondays and Thursdays. She's missed a few weeks, but maybe Lucy would like this.
There's a pie baking in the oven right now while Clover sits in a chair nearby, face propped in her hands as she swings her legs anxiously underneath her. She never got the full recipe. It probably won't turn out that good. Anyone even just passing by should notice that it sure smells good, though—blueberry, her brother's favorite.
No belting out Nicki Minaj verses and dancing up and down the kitchen this time, but she's lightly humming something's chorus; how dare we sit quietly and watch the world pass us by. Maybe another day she'll be up for twirling and screaming. For now, maybe she'll share some of that pie if you ask nicely.]
Thursday night, lobby
[Well, that made for a nice distraction for all of, like, an hour and a half, but now she's just even sadder. Before Undyne inevitably shows up to carry her back into underhell for the evening, Clover's found a place on the lobby to sit: more specifically, on the floor, where she's got a great view of the television. She's fidgeting anxiously with her jacket sleeves and watching the monitor with wide, too-focused eyes. Sometimes she shifts to hold her head in her hands and scrunch up her face like she's really, really concentrating—and then no, she's just sad again.
This is how people get murdered, Clover, go to bed.]
Wildcard
[As always, give me a shout at
thursday night
and i thought the channels in the underground were bad.
[...he's gonna make sure she's not getting murdered by getting himself murdered, apparently.]
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...Yeah. [Nope, wait, give her a second to think of an actual thing to say to that, that's not how conversations work.] What are you doing here? [clover what are YOU doing here that's not how conversations work either???
A for effort all around, apparently.]
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sitting. [wah waaaah] actually, i figured i'd pull in half the effort if i checked up on you an' the hostages at the same time.
[that's... surprisingly candid for sans.]
wouldn't want undyne to get it into her head that i don't do enough work again. [aaand he ruined it back again.]
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She glances back over at the screen, though—she can't not, it's too distracting to have her brother right there. For a girl who communicates almost exclusively by screaming, she sure is capable of being very quiet:] Who'd they take from you? Can I ask?
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[he lazily points in the direction of a goat lady who looks less than impressed at whoever is sitting right next to her. she does not seem like a goat that tells jokes.]
guess with my brother already here, they went with... whoever.
[he's not gonna ask her who hers is, figuring she'd tell him on her own]
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[She absolutely doesn't seem like a goat that tells jokes, but what does Clover know about goats, really? Maybe they're all about kidding around. Ahem.]
That's kinda weird, not even knowing her name. [No one ever called Clover tactful. What a rotten way to find that out, though, and how unfair to her, to just be "whoever" and get kidnapped like this for making dumb jokes.
Underwhelming as that answer was, she figures it's rude to ask the question in the first place if she isn't going to tell him, too. By this point, the man she points to, even with his eyes shut, just looks tired.] ...That's my brother. Light.
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[he's glad for the subject change as he looks at the guy onscreen. he can't say he sees the family resemblance, but he's also a skeleton. who is he to talk.]
your brother, huh... this game sure isn't pullin' any punches with you.
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[But she shifts, nervously folding her arms and drawing into herself.] Not since day one. [She was screwed from the second she got to deal with more irremovable jewelry. At least the pendant doesn't explode.] ...He shouldn't be here. I mean, none of them—nobody should, but... [Has this poor man not been kidnapped enough times? Let the Field siblings rest.]
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...though if i'm honest, i'm not sure he is. [...and that probably needs an explanation, so he's quick to add:] i ain't convinced any of them are.
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That second bit takes an extra second for her to figure out, though.] ...You think it's fake?
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[...that was uncharacteristically long-winded of him and he just. shrugs it off.]
... like i said. i ain't about to put anyone's lives on the line on the idea, but it's hard to believe after everythin' else.
["also i know one of those hostages can time travel this is bullshit"]
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WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH SANS???
give her a moment. give her a couple of moments.]
...That's... [She instinctively wants to counter that because things are never that easy in murdergames, stuff isn't allowed to approach working out like that, but...huh.] ...a really good point, actually? Um.
[She's leaning in a little closer towards the screen, staring at her brother like she's hoping to find some sort of proof that it can't be him.] I dunno. We still don't know what happened to Sisuca, and they sure didn't have any problems kidnapping all of us. But... [That sounds kind of weak, though?] ...You really thought a lot about this, huh?
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uh. kinda. gotta pass the time i'm not sleepin' somehow, right? [when he's not doing shitty jokes all over town, apparently.] it's just noticing patterns. all games have rules an' all that.
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[And then she turns back to Sans, because this is getting her nowhere and she's actually interested in the answer to this one.] Then have you noticed any other patterns like that?
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[he's obviously concentrating trying to recall stuff]
there's also the mystery with the town-- ghosts and stuff, but it's hard to tell if that's just another layer to the game or if it'd actually be helpful in stopping it altogether. even our own ghosts haven't been particularly helpful there, from what i gathered. ...it's a whole lotta nothing, basically.
thursday night, lobby
[That is, Underhell will never let her be. A certain skeleton was on his way to look at the hostages-- mostly to see if his human friend has rescued everyone yet, what is taking them so long-- but he sees Clover sitting there sadly by herself, and of course he isn't going to stand for that.]
[He'll sit with her!!]
CLOVER.... THIS ISN'T A VERY GOOD SHOW TO WATCH. THERE AREN'T ANY SEXY ROBOTS.
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"Sexy robots" catches her so off-guard that for a second, she forgets about this thing where she's super sad.]
...Um. No, there aren't. [????????] Were you—...What?