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( MINGLE - WEEK 3 )
 The sun is shining, the air conditioner units hum as they always do, and a gentle morning breeze blows against the windows. The scent of pine cones and evergreen follow you wherever you go in the motel, save for the parking lot and outdoor pool. It seems like someone was very generous with the detergent while moping the floors. The two grandfather clocks (one on each floor) will ring with each passing hour, indicating the time of day without fail. With this knowledge — they'll note the motel will continue to be surrounded by fog until 8:00 AM on the dot. It is at that hour that the fog will begin to recede. Not enough to reveal the whole city, but enough to allow residents to explore some of the buildings surrounding the motel. And speaking of the motel, it doesn't seem like there's anything out of the ordinary on this lovely Monday morning. How quaint. As a reminder, we are now accepting murder proposals for Week 3! If you're interested in having your character commit a murder this week, be sure to send in your proposal before Tuesday, 9:00 PM EST. Without any murders we can't have a murdergame, so go forth and let the bodies hit the floor! As always, feel free to PM us or send us a PP over plurk if you have any questions! ic rulebook | locations | statuses | room assignments private conversations | ic profiles | graveyard | full navigation |
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[Smug daemon stuff aside...]
They probably don't care as much... considering it wasn't part of the "game".
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[AND YET APPARENTLY THE MODS THEY WILL TAKE THE CORPSE!! and if Velvet and Dirk try to follow or stop them their feet will feel like fucking cement???
rude
and also: motivation for punching faceless men more]
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[She is foolishly trying to fight this feeling of cement. And proceeding to fall over. And try to crawl her way out. Velvet's not so great at giving up.]
We will stop you! [They're already gone and she's on the floor, just yelling.] No matter what it takes! I'll get out of here!
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God. He hates this. All the anger curls back inside of him, resting at the base of his throat. It slips out in the dark readiness of his words.]
We will.