WEEK SIX

[killerwaves]

WEEK SIX

16 Vacationers

Throughout your time on the island, there's been a steady rhythm; the murders, the trials, the executions, the clean-up afterwards that leave just up remnants for you to remember what was lost. This Monday morning though, things are different. The debris and any biohazards are cleared, but no effort has been made to repair the games at the arcade, or to restock the chemicals and damaged equipment at the laboratory.

Odd.

If you cast your eyes to the sky, you'll also notice that the distortion is also lingering—there's certainly less of it at least, a haze still lingering over the go-karts, one whirlpool lingering out in the sea. It could be worse, surely.

Though there's no new locations for you to take your mind off of all these oddities either. In fact, looking at your device to access the resort map area and scrolling past Kakapo's Nest triggers an error.

There’s one more, slightly more eclectic change: the kittybots, instead of having cute kitty ears and faces, are now without exception round-headed. This would make them look like ordinary robots, but their heads actually now look like a bowl of fish swimming, which occasionally form up into expressions. A change of pace for everything, it seems.

!

WEATHER ALERT:

Bulletin:
The current barometric pressure is 29.90 inHg, and is expected to steadily decline over the coming days. Rain and storms are likely in the latter half of the week.

(( OOC: Welcome to endgame week everyone. We'll be running an endgame investigation Friday during our typical investigation timeslot, and Saturday will be endgame proper.

This week your admins can be contacted Monday and Tuesday only, after that they'll be incommunicado. ))

MONDAY • TUESDAY • WEDNESDAY • THURSDAY

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Comments

[necrotiem]

[Her head is throbbing; it's the side that hurts the worst.

She leans into it anyway.]

I can't make any promises. [If the serum works, if she turns into nothing but meat by the end, if her heart is devoured, if she lets down Medea in a way Psyche will not, if she cares about doing any of these things - No promises.]

Shall I give the gift to you this time?

[chrysaline]

[ Ah, as she more than half-expected. She cups Waltaquin's cheek lightly before stroking her fingers back through her hair. Fascinating. ]

I have no use for promises. After all... neither can I. If that drug works as he intends, who can say if we'll meet again? At least resolve my curiosity for now.

[necrotiem]

I knew you'd û̶̩n̸̰̊d̶̲͝e̵̲͐r̵͎̃ṣ̴̍ţ̴̈́ã̴̟n̵̩̈d̵̳̽. [Medea is too short. Even having only caught glimpses of her real self, it is not quite right. But n̵̥͝ỏ̷͎ ̵͍̓o̴̲͝n̴̩̈́e̶̱͘ is really in a body that holds them right, everyone is being kept in a box that shouldn't contain them. Her head feels like that, pounding with what is to feel and be billions of things. All the violence and horrors.

Waltaquin leans along the slant of Medea's palm, bends the distance that shouldn't exist because she is the wrong height, and kisses her.

As she does so, she pushes the sword back into Medea's free hand. She has one more thing to say, so hopefully she sticks around at least that long.

Herself or Medea? Who could say.]

[chrysaline]

[ The kiss doesn't surprise her in the least. The hilt of the sword being pressed into her palm... does, somehow. She curls her fingers around it in reflex, ignoring the twinge to her injured arm; her expression turns inwards, thoughtful.

How odd that this near-stranger would recall Heli to mind when the deepest reflection is of Medea herself. And how fitting, that this woman who somehow seems to see her would be giving her what she needs one more time. She kisses back like a benediction and a farewell. After all — it's certainly true that they may never meet again. ]

Perhaps you give me too much credit. But I will hear you. Is that enough?

[necrotiem]

[Xiao is going to lose himself soon, since everything is happening so much and all at once. The time for talking is over.

Their attention will need to be there, though things are slipping down the back of her spin like they're unbuttoning her. What she feels isn't love, probably, but she thinks of it. Someone loved someone else. Someone ripped the core out of the earth because they loved it so. Someone's love was the nuclear death of the universe.]

Maybe. I'm not one for small satisfaction. [hungry and hungry and hungry and ḣ̴̻̓̈͝u̷͓̼̗̍ͅn̶̡̯̤̘̾̄̑g̷͙͘ȓ̵̨̼͖̄̒̀y̶̰̤̾ ̶̛̪̰̣̌ͅa̷̡͉͗ͅņ̷͖̎̄̂d̷̡͖̞̓̿͝ hungry]

One day you're going to really let her down. Ĵ̸͎û̷̘s̸̲͌t̴͉͐ ̶̜̈́l̴̻͐i̵̘͝k̷̊͜e̸͎͋ ̸̯̓I̸̛̤ ̵̪͆ḫ̵͊a̶͙̓v̷̜̊e̸͓̿. I think she will forgive you, though. What good fortune.

[Waltaquin's almost manic voice still manages a little fondness, a little teasing. She hugs her. That's for both of them.]

[chrysaline]

[ These gentle affections aren't like Medea; therefore, by association, she doubts they're very like Waltaquin. What does this outburst mean? If she had more time, time to unravel things as well as everyone always seems to expect of her... instead she does what she can in the moment, her arm going around Waltaquin after a second of surprise before she laughs. ]

If I could manage what I need to accomplish without doing that, I truly would be a god, wouldn't I? I already said that I have no need for promises. And reassurances are best left to her. But I will tell you...

[ She hugs Waltaquin a little tighter, holding her fast as she tilts her head up to whisper more softly to her. Psyche's body is so vexingly small, if at least less frail now. ]

She will forgive you. If you let her down in a way that would make me your enemy, I will not. For now, I'm entrusting my place to you.

[ There's a flicker again. Imperceptible, except in the way Psyche's body language changes in the moment, the hug turning softer and her shoulders relaxing. ]