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( EXECUTION - WEEK 2 )
 Unlike the previous day, those who are asleep past 8:00 AM will experience no pain as they're roused awake. Instead, they're pulled from their sleep peacefully, almost as if enveloped in a mother's loving embrace. A comfortable warmth spreads through their body as they open their eyes, finding themselves free of any grogginess or disorientation. Similarly, those who woke up early or were unable to sleep at all will find themselves alert and ready to take on the day. Considering what is about to transpire, however... no one would be blamed for wishing they could stay asleep. Just like the previous day, residents who do not make their way to the Dining Hall before 8:15 AM will be forcibly escorted out of their rooms (or wherever else they may be). True to Craftly's words, one of the faceless men will be waiting in the Dining Hall while all the current survivors gather. Once everyone is there, with the exception of Kamui, the staff member will slip a transparency into the projector, switching the device on to reveal what appears to be a telegram.
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His expression passive, he glances around, before back at Kamui. There's no horror to be had—thank Light and Hana for already demonstrating how this goes down. Acceptance is the only thing that settles in, when the rules have made clear that there is a price for disobedience.
In the end, he's a soldier; just point him at the enemy. It's almost a pity, though. He did kind of like his roommate.]
Any last words, Kamui? [...] It's too bad that we couldn't duel it out.
[That would've been far more worthwhile than this. A fight, at least, would've been interesting.]
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He just doesn't particularly feel like doing two things. Being cheerful, like he usually is. Or getting angry and, because of this massive handicap, getting nothing done. You can only fight glass spikes so much with your face, after all.
He still doesn't have a nice umbrella. What a bummer. Though the miniature one was really cute for awhile. He's left it in the room, from before the trial. ]
I spent the entire night trying to think of something cool to say. Needless to say, there was nothing.
[ He sounds about as done as his face looks.
And then, abruptly, he's changing his mind. To no avail, he's trying to lift his feet out of the cement, rolling himself forwards and backwards, around different angles. By any means possible. Even if it means that there's blood starting to well up around his ankles, it's fine he'll just tear his feet off somehow, this is fine—]
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Girge hums at his words, and then watches for a few moments as Kamui struggles. A part of him wonders if Kamui could miraculously escape, before reminding himself that nope, that's almost definitely not going to happen. So—]
As much as I'd love to give you some time, our host would probably get impatient with me.
[And so he begins turning the crank, although not with as much effort as he could give. He'll see if Craftly tells him to hurry up with it, but until then, he's technically trying, right? Of course, this might be inadvertently cruel to Kamui, but again, he figures that if Kamui wants this done and over with, he's perfectly capable of voicing his opinion.]
Any requests regarding your belongings?
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[ There's an audible crack coming from his shoulder now, as he tries to get the wrist ties to loosen up too. Aw. At least he doesn't give off more than... well, whatever's happening to his face, he's not screaming and crying about it.
Wow, his feet are sure looking bad by themselves. There's something about Yato, where they know that they need their arms and legs to defend, but suddenly he doesn't care anymore. Or maybe he's just taking that to the extreme? Doing you proud, Abuto. ]
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[What the hell is he going to do with Kamui's miniature umbrella? Maybe there's someone else in the motel who might want it...
He can appreciate Kamui's attempt, at least, even if it's more than what Girge would've done. It won't change the outcome—and perhaps that also makes it ugly and unseeming, this reveal of weakness—but there's a poetry to be had in a final spark. Fighting's the only thing that has any meaning to him, after all.
But really, Kamui's fate has been sealed. With every turn of the crank, as the spikes draw closer, it becomes further inevitable.]
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There's just some cricking noises coming from his feet now, and blood is trickling out over his cement prison. The oncoming spikes are, of course, what he ends up staring at.
Impaled. Squished. Maybe that's fitting. Eventually, one is close enough for him to lean out and lick it... but he doesn't, because he's not that much of an animal today.
And then, the first one breaks through his clothing, followed quickly by the second, and a third, quickly piercing skin following that. He grits his teeth, but his expression is still the same. Even when blood begins to trickle out of his mouth and his entire skeleton is suddenly starting to crack. ]
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With that, Girge sees no reason to delay things—no reason to prolong his death. As Kamui's body begins to crack, he pushes down the crank with everything he has.]
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Maybe this was for the best. There was something dark put inside of him, after all. It'd happen eventually.
The spikes suddenly just through his organs, his thighs, hands, his hair—if you name a body part, there's likely to be multiple spikes through it.
Even the unmentionable ones, for you sinners.
In the end, he doesn't make a noise, aside from the blood pool tricking out. And after awhile, that slows down its leak as well.
Kamui is dead. ]
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All survivors will wake up in their respective beds at 11:00 AM, as if nothing happened.]