[ Looks like Rupert and Claude are gambling again!
10. You open the door and find yourself standing on a seemingly endless road of rainbow loops around in dazzling colors with no barriers in sight. It’s live and die gloriously on the Rainbow Road out here, binches. A huge variety of vehicles are lined up: go-karts, bikes, pick-up trucks, a very confused horse, motorcycles, etc. It seems like someone making this might not be super familiar with your concept here, but is trying hard. As you start driving around it, you can race your fellows in good sport (or bad sport) - there’s friendly signage posted to see how many laps you’ve done, and countdown timers, all the things you’d expect. Unfortunately you’ll find each one of these vehicles is increasingly hard to control, and it might just send you careening off the edge and into endless space … and down … and down … it seems there’s no one to fish you out of it. You get the feeling that you will have to race to get out of here. If you fall, you will fall for an exceedingly long time, feeling as though someone is laughing at you, before you find yourself back in the hallway, disoriented and sore, as if you've just been in an accident - although there is no physical injury on you. If you somehow manage to win your race without falling, you will find yourself out in the hallway again, a little disoriented but vaguely prideful. If you lose your race without falling, you find yourself out in the hallway again, disoriented and motion sick. Only four minutes have passed.
[here he is in the void! presumably by now he has gotten a change of clothes and washed all the blood off; the wound on his arm and back are hidden by what he's wearing now, but he still has a patch of gauze pressed over his left eye socket. he turns claude's way as he notices him out of the corner of his other eye.]
8. You open the door and find yourself in some dark, spooky woods. It's difficult to see - not just because of the darkness, but because of the eerie fog that's rolling in and obscuring your surroundings. You get the distinct feeling that you are being watched - and being followed - as you attempt to find your way through the woods. This is because you are. Slenderman is following you, and he will eventually catch you. When he does, your mind will be filled with static, and you will find yourself out in the hallway with no memory of the last 24 hours for 30 minutes. Only four minutes have passed.
[he has no weapons on him because of who he is as a person, but he's definitely making a face as he looks around. it's dark here, but luckily (?), because of the effect this week, his skin seems to be glowing a soft yellow light, pulsing gently.
either way, deadpan:]
I'm so tired of haunted forests.
[he doesn't even know it's haunted yet, but it's the vibe.]
[ Wow! Claude came here to relax, but the minute him and Rupert are in proximity to each other, they're thrown into a memory.
You wake up, and it's to a hand around your neck and the ominous glint of a blade in the moonlight.
It's the first time you've woken up like this. You're maybe five, or six years old, and you're filled with fear first, and panic second.
But you still know better than to scream. You worry that the guards stationed outside your door would only come in and help the assailant finish the job.
So instead you slap the arm that's keeping you pinned to your bed, and it doesn't do much, except that the knife misses wherever it was meant to cut, slashing deep and bloody over your chest instead, pain slicing through your veins as your legs kick out, earning a grunt of pain when they connect with—something soft and human.
The situation starts to take shape in your head, and something else seeps in around the fear: fury. Indignation. Rage that anyone would do this to you- you're a prince.
You kick again before your attacker manages to shield himself, into that same spot, another more pronounced cry of pain. But you're maybe half your attacker's weight, and it's not enough to dislodge him, so the next time his blade flashes, it lodges into your shoulder, and it burns so much that you lose track of everything else. How hard your fists are beating into the arm around your neck. How furiously your legs are kicking at the shape above you until eventually it staggers back.
Like many times before this, you wonder why. Do you deserve to die?
But unlike the times before this, you've gotten more resourceful. The pain pounding in your head goes still, remembering the dagger under your pillow. You reach for it, clumsy, and your attacker has clearly underestimated you because you're able to draw it and bury it deep into—something. Something that drops hot blood over your chin and neck.
The assassin reels back in surprise, and you're screaming, launching forward and you know that you hurt him again, somewhere, some amount of times because there's blood spraying over your floors different from the droplets dripping from your own clothes. But you're only a child, and when the fog clears from your head you realize that the would-be assassin is gone.
It's just you, covered in blood and left without a scratch.
The memory fades, leaving Claude has disoriented as ever. ]
he's freezing as soon as the fear and rage take hold, and it takes a few long moments even after the memory is over to move past those feelings. the first question he asks is incredulous, horrified, as he looks towards claude.]
Why would... You were so young, why did someone try to kill you?
week 0, saturday, courtyard
Hey. Settling in?
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I guess you can call it that, yeah. What do you bet they'll open up next? I mean, bedrooms would be ideal, but apart from that.
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[ ... ]
Hopefully showers at least, soon.
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w0, monday.
Looks nice in there. Want to check it out?
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[ He does wander around... Checks for monsters... ]
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week 0, saturday, courtyard
Well, that was terrible.
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...Yeah. I haven't tried to go talk to him yet - have you?
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week 1, monday, ? room 10
Claude just stares at the horse. ]
Do you know how to drive?
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[staring at the track with a frown.]
I'm guessing that's the same for you, huh?
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week 1, thursday
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...Hey.
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week 1, saturday, restaurant
Hey, strip check didn't agitate your injuries too much, did it?
no subject
No. Estelle put new gauze back afterwards, so... I'll be fine.
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week 2, tuesday, ? room 8
Claude unceremoniously produces a dagger. ]
We'll need to be careful.
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either way, deadpan:]
I'm so tired of haunted forests.
[he doesn't even know it's haunted yet, but it's the vibe.]
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w2, sunday.
...How're you doing, after all that?
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... Hard to say. [ His jaw looks tight. ] I want to say Bucky didn't deserve that but.
To be honest, no one does, right? Not even the actual killer.
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week 3, tuesday, spa
It's the first time you've woken up like this. You're maybe five, or six years old, and you're filled with fear first, and panic second.
But you still know better than to scream. You worry that the guards stationed outside your door would only come in and help the assailant finish the job.
So instead you slap the arm that's keeping you pinned to your bed, and it doesn't do much, except that the knife misses wherever it was meant to cut, slashing deep and bloody over your chest instead, pain slicing through your veins as your legs kick out, earning a grunt of pain when they connect with—something soft and human.
The situation starts to take shape in your head, and something else seeps in around the fear: fury. Indignation. Rage that anyone would do this to you- you're a prince.
You kick again before your attacker manages to shield himself, into that same spot, another more pronounced cry of pain. But you're maybe half your attacker's weight, and it's not enough to dislodge him, so the next time his blade flashes, it lodges into your shoulder, and it burns so much that you lose track of everything else. How hard your fists are beating into the arm around your neck. How furiously your legs are kicking at the shape above you until eventually it staggers back.
Like many times before this, you wonder why. Do you deserve to die?
But unlike the times before this, you've gotten more resourceful. The pain pounding in your head goes still, remembering the dagger under your pillow. You reach for it, clumsy, and your attacker has clearly underestimated you because you're able to draw it and bury it deep into—something. Something that drops hot blood over your chin and neck.
The assassin reels back in surprise, and you're screaming, launching forward and you know that you hurt him again, somewhere, some amount of times because there's blood spraying over your floors different from the droplets dripping from your own clothes. But you're only a child, and when the fog clears from your head you realize that the would-be assassin is gone.
It's just you, covered in blood and left without a scratch.
The memory fades, leaving Claude has disoriented as ever. ]
... I really was hoping to relax.
no subject
he's freezing as soon as the fear and rage take hold, and it takes a few long moments even after the memory is over to move past those feelings. the first question he asks is incredulous, horrified, as he looks towards claude.]
Why would... You were so young, why did someone try to kill you?
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week 3, friday
Silent misery. ]
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...Awful, right?
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week 4, monday, station / pc cafe
Claude looks curiously at the computers before heading toward the coffee bar. ]
I never did get the hang of these computers.
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[so coffee it is!]
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week 5, sunday, bedrooms
It's good to see you, Rupert. Though I wish it was under better circumstances.
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It's good to see you, too, but... I'm really sorry you're here. Hopefully it shouldn't be too long until we get back.
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