( INVESTIGATION - WEEK 5 )

[abhoth]

Promptly at 8:00 AM, both of the Grandfather clocks will begin to ring, the sound traveling to every corner of the motel. All residents will wake up as if it was any other morning. There's the usual hum from the air conditioner units and the sound of harsh wind blowing against the windows. While the sun may not have ever set, the amount of times the Grandfather clock rings makes it clear: it's time to get up and greet the brand new day. However... something seems off. Maybe it's a shiver of cold leaving a trail of frost on your skin or a burning sensation in your chest — but it feels like something is drawing you out of your room and into the outdoor hallways. Where will you go? Welcome to the investigation log! Please put the name of the location your character will be exploring in the subject header. If you plan on grouping up with someone else for a location, we ask that you keep it to 2-3 characters maximum. Once you're all set and ready to rumble, mods will be here to provide evidence if found and set the scene for investigation events. Happy body hunting! ( quick navigation ) ic rulebook | locations | statuses | room assignments private conversations | ic profiles | graveyard

Comments

[nowyouseeit]

[skids in from outside, out of breath from running. he takes a moment to inhale deeply, before he speaks]

. . . Percival, Quer and Velvet in the garden. Looks like they were involved in some fight.

[lifts his head up and asks, a bit louder]

We need the Photographer, or someone who's good at copying things-- there's a message written in blood that needs to be preserved, and I think it's best if someone else other than me takes care of that.

[nowyouseeit]

[affixes his gaze on Andersen, gaze narrowing]

I'd prefer if the Photographer did it, actually.

[he says coolly, but hey! he's being professional]

Quer was at the entrance, her throat and arms slashed. Percival and Velvet were propped up in the gazebo, stabbed to death.

There was a message written on the ground-- "Blood offered for your answers, Craftly."

That's what we need a picture of.

[nowyouseeit]

[WELL IF WE'RE DOING IT THIS WAY]

It isn't your request to deny, Mr. Author.

[at least this time his anger is running cold]

If not the Photographer, then not you.

[pinesfortruth]

[omg you piss babies]

I'll do it. It wouldn't be the first time I copied something down for trial.

[pinesfortruth]

Sure. I can take Mabel.

[Dipper dont be obtuse]

[pinesforyou]

Yeah. Let's go, bro bro.

[nowyouseeit]

[ANDERSEN STARTED IT!!]

[breathes out deeply]

Thanks.

I'll take you to it.

[pinesfortruth]

[dry and short:]

Sure. Whatever.

[... huh.]

[nowyouseeit]

[HONESTLY just kind of. ignoring that dry and short response, and nodding]

Okay. . . let's go.

[TO THE GARDEN]

[pinesfortruth]

[he does follow without objecting so you know. this is fine? he is still dry when he speaks]

You know, when I learned forgery this summer, I didn't think it would ever actually be useful.

[nowyouseeit]

Again-- not your decision to make.

[HEADING TO THE GARDEN WITH DIPPER BYE NOW]

[nowyouseeit]

Why do you think I'm asking someone else to copy it down?

[:)]

[his smile is sharp, unfriendly. full of false pleasantness]

[nowyouseeit]

You're right. It isn't.

You may have reservations about me, but I have them about you. [:)] So let's do this fairly.

[nowyouseeit]

[ghhhh]

Yukina is out there, keeping an eye on the message.

Both of us can go.

[to keep :) an eye :) on the other]

[splinten]

You can trust Andersen as much as you'd trust the Photographer.

[He saw Emily's corpse. He held Clem while she was shaking.]

[nowyouseeit]

No, I can't.

[sorry, Dirk. he isn't budging]

. . . if the Photographer isn't willing, then Dipper is. As long as it's not me.

[splinten]

[He knows he should just take a picture. He knows he should out his role to the whole place—like it wasn't out anyway—and take the shot and bring it to evidence. He knows.

He turns away, trying to control the hands that have turned to fists.]

This better all end tomorrow.

[nowyouseeit]

[. . . he says nothing to that, honesty]

[he falls quiet, before turning on his heel, showing Dirk his back]

It's up to you.