( MINGLE - WEEK 5 )

[abhoth]

SURVIVORS: ?? 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 seems like the Kitchen, Dining Hall and Disposal room are still under constructions. Meals will be served in the Pool/Outdoor Dining Area in the meantime. How quaint. As a reminder, we are now accepting murder proposals for Week 5! 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! ( quick navigation ) ic rulebook | locations | statuses | room assignments private conversations | ic profiles | graveyard | full navigation

Comments

[nowyouseeit]

Whatever the bigger picture might be.

[he says dryly, a bit bitterly]

S'not like any of us know what it is. And if someone does, they sure aren't talking.

[willremember]

I still don't know. I've been - looking. This whole time. It doesn't feel like I'm finding anything.

[nowyouseeit]

I've been looking, too.

[he raises a hand to his shoulder, memories of his excursion to the library still fresh in his head. even though it happened several weeks ago now]

I've seen other people looking as well. But no one's. . . finding anything, huh?

At least, nothing other than a whole lot of pain.

[willremember]

That's all this place is good for. Again and again.

[nowyouseeit]

[mmm. he closes his eyes, brows furrowed]

. . . you can't let it get to you.

[he knows how empty those words sound, especially right now]

But we have to keep trying.

[willremember]

[ she seems like a weird mix of comforted and angry. which isn't that confusing given the situation. ]

I won't.

[nowyouseeit]

[it isn't confusing at all. each of those emotions are appropriate, considering everything]

Good.

[heh. he gives her a firm smile]

You're still a very strong person.

[willremember]

You too. I appreciate what you've been doing for me.

[nowyouseeit]

[there's a. . . pause, as he thinks about that, struggling to understand the meaning of her words, before he nods]

Of course.

Anytime. I promise.

[willremember]

[ she's pretty much given up on secrecy tbh ]

I wish I'd known you had a gun earlier.

[nowyouseeit]

[still! if she doesn't say anything out loud, then he won't say anything, either]

Really?

[and his hand drops to his waist, where his handgun is always found strapped to his belt]

Haa. . . I tried really hard to keep it a secret 'cause I thought people would be suspicious of me otherwise.

It isn't really good for anything but keeping me from being eaten by giant monster dogs, though.

[willremember]

But you were able to prove exactly how many bullets you had and exactly how you used them. Knowing what weapon you have can be an alibi in itself.

And knowing you're armed isn't necessarily suspicious. [ after all she's consistently said things along the lines of "if I were going to kill, I'd do it away from the motel," and "yeah of course I stole a kitchen knife in week 1, I don't want to be unarmed" right in public like an idiot and not gotten any fingers pointed her way. ]

Maybe it's good for killing "Mother." The "Sewer Goddess." [ but she just shrugs because that's more like an idle thought than a real suggestion. ]

[nowyouseeit]

[. . . his hand falls away from his weapon, hanging limply at his side]

If "Mother" is the one running this game, do you really think she'd give someone a weapon that could kill her?

[but it's a thought]

[and it's one he wants to hold onto, if he can]

[willremember]

I don't know. Maybe she didn't think it through. Or maybe the actual Mother isn't who we think it is. And it's like - a test. Kill the false Mother. Or something.

[nowyouseeit]

Kill the. . . false mother?

[????]

I dunno, that sounds pretty weird.

[willremember]

[ she just shrugs, she has no idea, man, but it's kind of nice to just shoot bullshit ideas out. ]

Or maybe you have to kill Abigail Phillips. She's the reason we're all in this mess, and the weird religion stuff was around before her, so maybe she's the one that corrupted it all.

[nowyouseeit]

-- who?

[that's a name he hasn't heard before]

Why's she the reason everyone is in this mess?

[willremember]

[ she looks genuinely startled that he doesn't know. ]

She's the inventor of the "HP Formula" that messes with dimensions or something. Probably what brought us here. Maybe why it's always twilight.

And she funded the radio tower in the South that's supposed to be another blessing, besides the lake. But maybe it's not, maybe that's why the other church guy went around committing arson or something. [ shrugs again ]

[nowyouseeit]

. . . wait, where'd you learn all of this?

[this is the first he's hearing of it!!]

[willremember]

[ not answering that ]

I thought she might be "Mother," but who knows?

[nowyouseeit]

[he wants to press, but. . .]

It's hard to say. . . it's not like there was anything useful in the library.

[willremember]

Yeah, not so much.

The "Sewer Goddess" smelled like lavender. And a disembodied voice did, too. But I can't tell if that means they're "Mother," or Abigail, or what.

[nowyouseeit]

[sighs and rubs his head again!!]

Without the right information, all we have are puzzle pieces and no way to put 'em all together.

[willremember]

I'm starting to think there's nothing to figure out even if we make sense of it.