aworldwithoutboxes | mistletoe meme but people die-

mistletoe meme but people die-

THE MURDERGAME SHIPPING MEME V1.2

This is probably too straight to accurately represent most murdergame ships but like. We take what the stock image industry gives us.

So, you've been put into a murder mystery game where you're going to have to fight for your life! Every week another body or two, surrounded by strangers- Wait, you knew that? You actually kind of have your bearings? Well fine, here's a different problem - see that person over there? Yeah, that one. Wouldn't it be a really terrible idea if you fell in love with them right now?

This is a meme for that sometimes most fun of bad choices in murdergames: shipping. Leave a toplevel with info that might be in your character's profile (recommended, so everyone knows what your character is About), maybe a murdergame title (optional but encouraged), and any extra info you want to give along with whatever your shipping prefs are, then either pick from the prompts below or wing it and go tag around! Profile code and some prefs options below, if you want a format to follow. Remember - unexpected murdergame ships are the best kind! Don't be afraid to tag out and across canons!

SETTINGS (note: absolutely not an exhaustive list)
1. Shopping Mall - Live your teen movie romance dreams! Sure, someone seems to get mcfucking murdered in the Starbucks every week, but that doesn't mean you can't go on a coffee date, right?
2. School - Live the... other party of your teen movie romance dreams! It's a little hard to be romantic when the only place for a dinner date is the cafeteria, but in fairness you are also constantly overcoming bigger problems than that here.
3. Generic Facility - Looking for romance? Try scenic Sealed-Off Building Full of Rooms! It's themed in some way - science, underwater - but the concept is the same. Surely there's some kind of bar or inexplicable amusement park in here you could use for a romantic evening, right?
4. Spooky Mansion - You know what they say about going on dates to scary movies, right? What if the scary movie was uh. The whole thing. The whole place. Where you live. And die, sometimes.
5. Romance Zone - I mean hey, maybe you're stuck somewhere literally built for both romance and murder! Pleasure and pain. Life and death. Smoochin' and stabbin'.
6. Musical Theater - Sing a love song! Whether you're playing from a specific musical or not, live your romantic duet dreams!
7. CHRISTMAS!!!! - The holidays really can be murder! Welcome to some kind of cozy Christmas-themed residence, and remember: they're your present this year! Because the only other thing you're liable to get is fucking murdered.
8. Other - If you can block off an area, you can put a murdergame there. Get creative!

PROMPTS (ship scenarios)
1. Confession (Fun) - Ah, the start of any good murdergame relationship. Maybe you've been dancing around each other for a week or two, maybe over the course of one thread and a lot of screaming your players decided you're gonna kiss. Time to figure out what these feelings mean while you're, you know. Here. Can be combined with some of the other prompts too, if you like.
2. Dating??? - Where do you even go to date in a murdergame? Is it even worth trying to hang onto this kind of normalcy when either of you could die any day now? It's probably fine.
2b. Dating+ - Can be combined with any other prompt, but somehow, some way, one of you is taking the lead in this date and getting a bunch of emotions in... because you're deathflagging. You're deathflagging hard.
3. Afterparty - Hey, that was a rough trial! Whatever it was! But you're both alive, so... better try to comfort each other, huh? Enjoy whatever kind of snacks you guys have available.
4. Confession (Unfun) - Oops, uh. One of you... seems to have confessed to murder. Better get whatever last moments in that you can before voting ends and one of you gets brutally executed!
5. The Couple That Kills Together - Okay, so maybe you did or didn't actually kill someone together. But at least one of you did a murder, and the body hasn't been properly discovered yet, so... time to talk this through? Make bad choices for love?
6. Deadland Romance - Maybe you've just reunited in the land of the dead, or maybe this is where you're trying to get your relationship off the ground. Either way, there's gotta be some weird emotions to "we're dead and trying to make it work."
7. Golden End Reunion - Great news! You beat up the mastermind (or befriended them, I don't know your style) and got all of the dead people back, including the other half of your ship! That's gotta feel good, seeing them again after however many weeks.
8. What now? - The game is over, it's time to go home. But... which home? If you split up, is there going to be a chance to visit each other again? Can you work that kind of long-distance?
9. Smut Option - Look. It's not generally onscreen, but hookups happen. Did you have to kick roommates out? Is this the fabled... you know, variant of option 5? Basically look, if you wanna use this meme for smut I'm not gonna say no, just tag appropriately.
10. Anything else! - Look, one of the fun things about murdergame ships is how many ways they can go in the emotional crucible inherent to them. I can't account for a lot of things ahead of the basics, so plot with your thread partner and have fun with it! Hell, maybe bring a good ol' murdergame polyblob into the mix, I'm not gonna stop you! Go with ur heart, assume other characters, live your truth!

PROFILE CODE (pilfered from the general murdergame meme):

PREFS CODE:

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Name: Kabru | The People Person/Champion of Humanity
Age: 22 | Species: tall-man | Occupation: adventurer
Likes: Peoplewatching, humans, tomatoes.
Dislikes: Monsters, dungeons, selfishness. Elven cakes.
Traits: Perceptive, charming, pragmatic, egalitarian, duplicitous.
Trivia: Kabru's first cause of death was basilisk poisoning!

[ What's On The Table: a pathological people pleaser with profound survivor's guilt, a self-assigned mission to better the world, and the trained ability to instantly analyze and murder any human being his moral code makes the call on....... is not the person you are initially going to get! He's an absolute trainwreck, as anyone who saw WCB r6 knows, but until The Horrors start to shake his masks off he's a trainwreck with exceptional external presentation. Kabru presents as a friendly, nonthreatening little guy who's eager to get to know and help others. He's considerate and kind, if kind of a flirt, and will do his level best to play off all the deeply concerning facts in his profile as a natural consequence of dungeon diving!

But, if you're observant, you might notice that, while he's putting on the same general act for everyone, he switches his demeanor up among different groups of people depending on what the vibe is. His approach to any individual is always going to be tailored to what he sees as their specific needs, the better to make himself a confidante. He's always, always watching the others, looking for something, and when he has to do anything athletic he is strikingly adept at moving really fast and predicting other people's movements! Once the killing starts, he proves himself to be useful at trials... and a combination of weirdly excited about getting to put the pieces together and unnervingly cold to any selfish murderers? And then he just puts all that aside for the afterparties? Yeah, this is fine, you should trust this guy with your life and backstory.
Looking for: honestly I can't see him as suited for a monogamous relationship until well post-canon and possibly even then, but that doesn't mean he won't get deeply attached to people! Gender doesn't matter, and as long as a character is above eighteen age isn't much of an object either, but he has monster trauma that will make visible nonhumans (by dunmeshi metrics, which means if your character is just an elf or a person with horns or whatever he'll be like "no that's fine" but if they're, like, Robin Hood from the Disney movie he might start freaking out) a tough sell, at least initially.

Kabru is always trying to understand others, so people who present a challenge to his observation skills or have some particularly intricate Stuff going on he needs to unravel are basically the equivalent of one of those toys where you put treats inside and the dog has to get them out! He's good at cutting to the heart of a character with a lot of secrets, though he may not immediately voice that, and will do just about anything to get on an interesting person's good side. He tends to (dungeon) mesh with people who are similarly suspicious and perceptive, but on the flip side he also works well with people who're blunt! Basically anyone who'll enjoy the yaoi mind tennis or immediately bypass it and force him to be honest. His love of people is genuine, and he has a strong moral code, so any long-term romance with a villainous or amoral type is unlikely, but can you even imagine how funny it would be for him and someone who's also a secret fake bitch but for worse reasons to have a back-and-forth flirtation thing where they're trying to suss out each other's intentions and use each other and they just keep yes-anding? I think it would be peak comedy.

Also this is frankly incredible since it's a character I'm playing but, tragically, he fucks and it's not in a deranged and violent way! Just normal-ass casual hookups with people he's attracted to. He had too much to do, was too worried about prioritizing some people over others, and wasn't able to keep anyone at arms length enough to be even remotely comfortable with it in WCB, but that's what memes are for. ]

Name: Alfyn Greengrass | Succor Every Minute, Champion of Clearbrook, Green
Age: 21 | Species: Human | Occupation: Apothecary
Likes: Ale, medicine, good company, helping people
Dislikes: Charging money, standing by when others are in pain
Traits: Chummy, generous, inquisitive
Trivia: If you praise Alfyn too much, his butt gets uncontrollably itchy. Awkward!

[I rolled setting: spooky mansion and scenario: wildcard, so if you have any ideas...? If not, I'll throw something random atcha!]

Edited (Sorry about that) 2024-11-29 23:28 (UTC)

Wouldn't love you as much if you were.

[Is this the first time one of them has said it? It feels like it. Too late, too little, but it's been said.]

[She places her free hand over his, squeezing.]

I'll- I'll come with you. You shouldn't go out alone.

[ha.]

I mean- no. I'm not leaving you alone. Not. Not yet.

Name: Fellow Honest | The Playful Puppeteer/Champion of Fun
Age: 26 28 30 Redacted | Species: Beastman | Occupation: Manager of Playful Land Amusement Park
Likes: Musicals, apples, math, rich people's money
Dislikes: Spending money, potatoes, reading/writing, rich people
Traits: Enterprising, affable, entertaining, duplicitous, uneducated
Trivia: Reads at a third grade level

[Being sealed in an amusement park should make someone like Fellow feel right at home, but a place like Playful Land was never really his to begin with, anyway. And, as it happens, so was being alive. It's just a handful of the dead here now in this dimly lit park, biding their time until another unlucky creature gets thrown into the pit with them.

Today, that unlucky creature is Kabru. God, he was supposed to be different.

What drew him to Kabru was that time-honored principle: like recognize like. They're both liars. They've both had to make a life of seeing through others in order to survive, to get ahead. It felt threatening at first, to meet someone who is both a mirror and a window, someone you can see through, who can see through you in turn. Every conversation made him feel like he'd been scooped out completely and shoved back together in the same approximate shape. But little by little this place wore away at him. Little by little that blue-eyed terror starting eeking (ugh) more and more truths out of him and it was starting to become a problem, like he as teetering at the edge of some horrible confession. To himself, to his fellow test subjects, to Kabru. Until he died. Then it was bliss because he didn't have to account for this pesky feeling nagging at him like a stray thread.

Didn't have to worry about it until now. Fellow has been avoiding him in ways that he's doing his utmost to make look like pure coincidence. But there's only so much luck one can be afforded. He's taken up residence at one of the bottle-toss tents, sitting on top of the booth table with his legs crossed at the ankles. In his hands is a rag that he's stitching back together, one that Kabru will recognize as Carmen Sandiego's red coat. After an appropriate moment to make it seem like Fellow's just noticed him, that he hasn't been keenly aware of Kabru's steady approach, Fellow turns his golden eyes up to look at the other man. Hands never straying from their work.]

Oh good evening, Kabru! Terribly sorry that ya [clears throat] you caught me at such a moment. Fascinating that you and I are in one piece but our clothing must suffer still. [Carmen's jacket still bears the scar of the swallowing sword that had run her through. For now, anyway.] I'd call it bad business on the part of our captors.

[Anything but to talk about the way he'd looked at Kabru that night before he'd left and never came back. Ironically, the finger of his own glove still has a hole in it.]

Name: Welt Yang | Gravitational Singularity/The Worldly Mentor
Age: 82 | Species: Human | Occupation: Astral Express Strategist
Likes: Astral Express, animation, inner strength, his friends, Earth
Dislikes: Betrayal, Inhumane research, Antimatter Legion
Traits: Astute, Cerebral, Distant, Kind, Nerdy, Self-Sacrificial
Trivia: Welt once went into a place called the Sugars dimension, meeting small creatures that can fit in the palm of one's hand.

[ The Basics: Welt Yang is a quiet older man, though it is a clear that he's a kind, experienced individual who will express towards most - except the Mastermind - genuine respect, understanding, and kindness. Even if that isn't a given towards his person. He is someone who tries to get along with others, and that is his goal - even if he's at times awkward when it comes to emotional matters, or sometimes just in general. He is generally calm, ready to tolerate a lot of actions/personalities. Though, while he strives for group harmony, he is willing to say or to do what needs to be done, understanding the potential consequences.

In a normal setting Welt isn't necessarily so secretive in talking about himself (beyond intimate matters), though in the beginning of a murdergame, a lot of pertinent private things - unrelated to The Astral Express and those adventures - will be gated until a higher social rank. It does help he likes to generally speak about the AE and geek out about his hobbies/interests when he has a chance to talk about them. He has a Lot of baggage. Yet, somehow he gets away with not revealing much about himself.

Tips/The Down Low: Welt is a bit difficult to get into a romantic relationship quickly or at all. It's definitely possible, though his self-worth issues - and the fact he keeps a distance - may get in the way. His type generally leans towards morally dubious people on some level that may or may not clash with his point of views, people who are unafraid to poke fun or fluster him, or quirky and kind-hearted heroic/protagonist type, though irredeemable/straight-up/big bad villains will be a challenge.

General very close platonic CR is still fine for all genders, but for shipping Welt will prefer adult men (he'll icly be comfortable with those 21 and up so it's not too much of a leap for him, personally.) ]

Name: Welt Yang | Gravitational Singularity/The Worldly Mentor
Age: 82 | Species: Human | Occupation: Astral Express Strategist
Likes: Astral Express, animation, inner strength, his friends, Earth
Dislikes: Betrayal, Inhumane research, Antimatter Legion
Traits: Astute, Cerebral, Distant, Kind, Nerdy, Self-Sacrificial
Trivia: Welt once went into a place called the Sugars dimension, meeting small creatures that can fit in the palm of one's hand.

[ This mudergame's setting revolves around a spaceship called Theseus - one that has a plethora of various rooms for a myriad purposes. As well as areas that are more or less dedicated to the expected places found in such a vehicle like a sick bay, the typical restrooms, the bridge, and of course the brig. There are some strange places that hold a strange garden filled to the brim with many flowers, most of which are recognizable from Earth, a virtual library, an area filled with high security called the control hub, and other places.

The virtual library is cordoned off from 10PM to 6AM, and the control hub is guarded by two robots.

The Mastermind is a mysterious individual known as "The King", who fashions himself as overly haughty, though he also so happens to have a secondary individual in their employ who acts as an overseer for the trials. As well as general interactions - a person who appears cloaked in black robes, which obscures their face. Something is off about their appearance, but it generally is not known exactly what.

As for the current scenario? Welt has come to Kabru late afternoon on a Sunday, in confidence, when no one else is around him. The last trial was a doozy, to say the least, but if there is something Welt is it isn't ever idle.

But that's why he has to act now, and of all the people he believes he can trust in that could potentially get away with sneaking around, it'd be at least someone who has proven to be level-headed. Not that there is any guarantee of acquiesce or agreement of a sort since it's a bit more involved than just simply 'sneaking around', though from his discussions with the other man, Kabru never struck him as careless. They've yet to delve too far into either of their respective pasts just yet, but seeing as it has been just three weeks...there's still time to know one another better.

(Infiltrating an area can be considered a bonding activity, wdym. At least...this is what he plans on pitching. But, the best plans never survive first contact, right?) ]

...Oh, Kabru. I was looking for you.

Do you happen to have a moment? There's...something pertinent I wanted to discuss with you.

[ This is definitely a good opener, he thinks. Although he feels a little out of his element in normal conversation at times, he can aim for normal conversation. ]

[ It really is amazing, what you can make yourself get used to. It doesn't matter how miserable your circumstances are or how much worse they seem fit to get, so long as you can grit your teeth and swallow everything that threatens to overtake you, you can endure until the sun goes out.

That's what Ai's been doing, mostly. Enduring. It's been easier than she'd expected, mostly because at this point she knows she has nothing to lose. It's not as if she wants things to go wrong but when you get down to it, every moment she spends here is really just a bonus for someone like her. Even if she made it out to the other side in one piece, what would she even do with herself?

So she endures. She focuses mostly on staying bright and pretty for everyone else's sake, all these other people who have somewhere to go should they escape this place. When trials come to their gruesome conclusions, Ai stays smiling through it all and drinks in everyone else's aches and pains so she can carry them instead. It's what idols are supposed to do, right?

Lex has been coming to pour her sorrows into Ai's hands more and more as of late. That's good, Ai thinks, if it means she isn't having to carry them herself. But it's awkward when she tries to take some of Ai's off her hands. ]

I'm managing.

[ She says it with a worn-thin smile, the kind she's learned is right to wear at times like this. ]

I can't say I saw it coming, exactly, but... there's only so many people it could've been at this point.

[is it possible 2 squeeze in here without filling out the fuckass form]

[It's a good thing that Yakko had left early that morning, Mariko tells herself. She's only upset for a moment, clutching tight to the faded warmth of the sheets, willing away the anger that swells in her chest. Stupid Yakko. When the feeling is good and settled, only then can she appreciate this sliver of loneliness for what it is. This is when the real work begins, the dreadful work that can only take place on your own. Mariko sits up slow, as if she's remembered something important. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she sits up, drawing herself closer to the nightstand. There beneath a few pilfered books from the library is a loosely-folded lavender handkerchief and, as she carefully opens it, reveals little white shreds like petals. That note Yakko had so desperately tried to keep away, keep from her.

I'll find out what you're keeping from me, Yakko. I'll find out what's so important about that girl.

Mariko spends her morning intently focused on solving her little puzzle. Drawing each piece together with her fingertips, the letters coming together little by little. Until it splinters like too much snow on a branch-- snap. Any peace is gone in an instant when that name comes back again-- Michiyo.

Hastily she gathers the pieces into the handkerchief and shoves it blindly to the back of the drawer. Mariko's heels click as she storms out of the room in search of Yakko, eyes bright. She'll act as if nothing's changed. As far as she's concerned it hasn't. This will only bring them closer.]

[The anger—no, the all-consuming rage—that had flared inside her was still there. It has become mere embers since the motive but the silence in the morning had fanned them. Yakko had taken off her ribbon, letting her long hair drop down. It wasn’t something she normally did—she usually kept her hair up but… it felt natural. Safe.

She didn’t feel right a lot of the time here—the small gesture helped steady her mind. She needed that answer. The mystery needed solved.

There was a machine shop in the school. Not just woodworking or machinery, either. There even was a section of automotive equipment, which Yakko now was looking through. It wasn’t a place she normally would be but the loud noises of her shifting through toolboxes and large motor parts would probably draw the attention of anyone, especially someone who was searching.

At the moment, though, Yakko doesn’t care. She weighs many of the pieces in her hands before throwing them away. Eventually she settles on just throwing a few heavy pieces into a toolbox. She could decide later.

She leaves the room only to meet Mariko in the doorway. Wearing her hair down during that was a mistake—grease already clings to her clothes and hair. Her grip tightens on the toolbox. Every fiber is screaming to slam it against Mariko’s pretty face.

But that’s shoved down. Hard.]

Shinobu—you’re up early.

[Yakko rarely used last names and never Mariko’s.]

[It'd hurt less to be shot in the gut. Alvin breathes in sharply, the all-too-familiar tang of blood burning his nostrils, the simple use of a four-letter word lodging below his ribs like a bullet. Swallowing doesn't keep the rawness from his voice.]

Cal.

[Calypso has a solid three inches of height on him and, with no boosts from his Lilium Orb, more sheer strength, but Alvin gathers her close and presses his face into her hair anyway, as though she's someone small and soft to protect. As though there's anything he can do to protect her now.]

I shouldn't have left you alone. Damn it, why am I like this? I always end up doing the wrong thing, when what I wanted--what I want--

[--Is to be with her. To be good enough for her. To be good enough for something good, someone good, for once in his damned life.

To be with her even if he isn't good enough.

Alvin stayed in tonight because he didn't want to be tempted. To be flung to another world, again, one even more incomprehensible and hostile than Rieze Maxia--one where, even if it didn't immediately kill him, he'd be alone again, even more alone than before, ripped away from someone who made him like the person he tried to be for her--

--from someone who loved him--

--was too much. He didn't trust himself not to ruin that newly budding, precious thing he'd begun to recognize he felt for her. And now Cal's being ripped away from him anyway.]

...Forget it. Don't worry about me. [He swallows again.] What... do you want right now? You want me to stay?

[He doesn't want to leave and find her gone. He wants that almost as little as he wants to feel her slip through his arms.]

[ It's taken some time to really get a feel for the layout of the mansion, even for Presa; even without the new areas that unlock with each passing week, the layout feels like it constantly changes, like an ever-shifting labyrinth meant to disorient and unsettle. It's easy to get lost here, and even easier to go mad here.

Which makes the whole "kill and get a wish granted" angle that was given at the start of all this a little bit more troublesome.

Presa knows better than anyone the importance of keeping a level head in unfamiliar situations, in figuring out all the angles to make sure that you're never blindsided. Particularly with people you don't know and certainly trust.

And, as she's reminded as she enters the kitchen and immediately sees a certain brown coat turned in her direction, especially with the people you do. ]

Al.

[ She heads straight for the cabinets, her tail swaying behind her as she looks for where the kettle got put. ]

[Every time he hears that "Al"--the nickname that's only hers, that's only ever taken shape in her voice--his awful little heart does something funny. It's like a bird lifting its wings for takeoff, only for the ground to crumble to nothing beneath its feet. Familiarity and brutal coldness all in one.

Alvin looks up, though he knows who it is, and turns his attention back to the stove in front of him.]

Presa.

[Around the others, he calls her Jill, the name on her profile. It's simpler that way. When it's just the two of them, though, he reverts to Presa. That's the name she earned for herself, all on her own, after what he did. It's the last thing she heard him call her.

By his count, he lost the right to call her anything else a long time ago.

Alvin doesn't need the mansion's trickery today to feel unsettled. The last desperate cry of the teenager they sentenced to death still echoes in his head, and a night of drinking to drown it out has only left him faintly queasy. Presa's presence is simultaneously comfort and recrimination, which is both more and less than he deserves. He's painfully grateful she's here, anyway.]

I'm frying eggs. Want any?

[Egg sandwiches: a remedy for hangovers he's fallen on before.]

[There's a short pause, as the feeling of being held- being the one shielded for once, like she was someone worth wanting- sinks in.]

Please.

[It comes out softly, a half sob. She buries her face into her chest, tears flowing as the reality of it all finally crashes in. The thing about refusing to look back is, sooner or later you can't avoid looking ahead to the inevitable end.]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

[Her fingers wrap into the fabric of his shirt and cling desperately, almost childlike, as the painful sobs wrack her body.]

Always- [sniff] -always kinda thought this might be how I got retired. Never thought it'd last long enough for me to regret it.

[Another short, choked sob.]

...I'm gettin' snot on your shirt.

[Oh, she knows. Anger twists at her chest like two fists wringing at a handkerchief.]

You've never-- [She stops herself, swallowing back some wet, tragic feeling.] Is this where you've been all morning? Avoiding me? Why?

[Mariko's voice tips up, then, like a child about to stomp her foot. She very well might.]

[She flinches. It’s an instinctual thing—as of expecting more. No. That wouldn’t do. She reins it in, breathing out her nose.]

Mariko—I’m sorry. I was really focused on what I’ve been doing—my mind is all messed up. I thought I’d be back in our room by now.

[Our, not your.] Honest.

[There’s a pause. She shouldn’t mention Michiyo now. Shouldn’t say what she was planning. She sets the toolbox down in favor of moving closer.]

Mariko, I need to kill someone. I just didn’t want you getting caught up in it.

[She can't apologize to him. His traitorous throat just gets tighter, and the heat in his eyes threatens to spill wetly over. Alvin breathes in the scent of her hair and and lets it out in soft words, barely shaking.]

I just said not to worry about me.

[The arm he has around her moves so he can rub her arm, up and down, a soothing rhythm. He doesn't wear his gloves to sleep, so it's just his bare palm.]

Besides, who cares about my shirt? The scarf, now--that cost me a month's pay.

[He's not wearing the scarf, either. His trademark coat's hanging on the back of the desk chair. Right now, it's just Alvin holding her, no layers of half-truths and outright lies to peel away.]

You know you have nothing to apologize for, right? Cal, you... you're the best person here. You've done more for us than anyone.

[Alvin's hold around her tightens.]

You've done more for me... than I deserve.

[Would maybe a thread set early in the game with this morally dubious lunk work? I keep looking at Welt's profile here like "oh, exactly the kind of chill nerd Alvin would love to try to get a friendly rise out of..." But since I'm totally canonblind to HSR, it'd be hard to just jump into shiptown having assumed a bunch of events.

If it helps, Alvin in a nutshell is... a guy who has done bad things for pretty bad reasons, yet somehow remains sympathetic. He's trying to do better, honest.]

[ It does help! I'm actually kinda familiar with Alvin since I played Tales of Xillia like...once upon a time, and I think it'll work out.

An earlier thread to help build up on things shipwise, etc. will work out as well. Alvin also trying to get a rise out of him sounds fun! ]

[ As much as she'd like to say that Alvin's shifting of names doesn't mean much to her, even she knows that she's not even fooling herself. She knows why he does – it's just easier to go with her given name that's listed on her profile rather than have to explain it (easier for who, she thinks somewhat bitterly). But even if she doesn't actually mind, it doesn't mean she doesn't freeze for the briefest moment every time he does it.

After yesterday, though, it really doesn't register as much as it does as she looks over at him as he says it. Even if he hid it pretty well from the others, it seemed clear to Presa that what happened with Hanamura yesterday struck a nerve. Given what little she knows, she's not surprised. If anything she's impressed that he's actually functional right now, with as much as it seemed like he drank last night.

Maybe she shouldn't have left him alone afterward after all. ]

Sure, I wouldn't mind. [ She puts enough water in the kettle for a few cups of tea, in an eventually-not-silent offer for him, as she moves next to him to place it on a burner not currently being used. She pauses, the smell of the eggs hitting her better here than it did when she first came in. ]

Your usual meal of choice after a night out?

[ An observational question, with no hint of judging anywhere in her usual tone. ]

[Ah, damn. When she stands that close, especially here in the kitchen, like some daydream of domestic innocence, it's almost impossible to resist the pull of old times towards her. Alvin shifts slightly, more a pantomime of giving her space than its actuality. To keep from reaching for a strand of her hair, he fiddles with a buckle of his coat instead.]

Yeah, well. Can't drink like I'm twenty-one anymore, I guess.

[As if. He has a perfectly healthy liver grown on lush, Rieze Maxian crops. His suffering's due entirely to the volume of alcohol consumed, no any diminished ability to consume it.

Some draft in the mansion makes a ghostly, moaning sound. It almost sounds like Avril Laviiigggnneee... Remembering why he drank so much last night dims Alvin's paltry attempt at levity. He covers it by busying himself with plating the eggs that've finished cooking and splashing a little more oil in the pan.]

Too bad it wasn't a night out. I wouldn't mind blowing this place, either, so... given the givens, it's hard to blame the kid.

[He still has the eggs out, so he picks up two more to crack into the pan.]

...Even if it means we're stuck cooking our own breakfasts.

[Under other circumstances, a day or two would be enough for Alvin to get used to a place. He's an old hand by now at blending in. But even if he could set aside the bolted doors, plate-covered windows, and injunction to get away with murder, this abandoned military facility--he's pretty sure that's what it is--is just plain creepy. A lot of it seems to have built for humans, but not all; there's training equipment for creatures with more legs than two, beds of gigantic size, and contraptions in the communal bathrooms he honestly doesn't want to think too much about. The length and depth of the scratch marks he's seen etched into some of the walls, too... yikes.

And maybe that all would be fine and dandy for someone without Alvin's particular biases, except there's that other room lined with those big, soldier-sized tubes, and, well. He's already seen enough laboratory-designed war crimes to draw a conclusion or two.

He keeps away from that room. It gives him the heebie-jeebies.

Anyway, they're more than forty-eight hours into this fun, new nightmare, and Alvin's decided to lean into what he does best: smarm his way into people's good graces. He's selected his targets deliberately, after the last couple days of observation and studying the profiles. He decides the best place to look for an astute, cerebral strategist is the facility's small library.

He peeks in and grins at his guesswork's reward.]

Aha. Hey there, Professor. Just the man I was hoping to run into.

[A day or two is definitely enough time to assign nicknames. Alvin offers Welt a jaunty salute as he enters.]

[ She lets out a small chuckle at the self-dig, pausing to turn the knob to turn on the burner for the kettle. ]

Be careful, Al, any more jokes about how old you are and I'm going to start mistaking you for the Conductor.

[ Despite being done with what she needed with stove, she doesn't immediately pull away, instead watching Alvin's hands as he adds the second round of eggs to the pan. The feeling of nostalgia she gets when she looks at him curls up in the pit of her stomach, almost willing her to just enjoy the moment for what it is. Even if it was for a brief second, it could've just like any other day in Fennmont.

The creaking and groaning of the walls bring her back to reality, though, and she pulls away to lean against the counter. She takes a second to adjust her glasses, before looking back at him. ]

It's a lot of pressure to put on a kid that age. I'd be more surprised if no one ended up cracking at all.

[ There's been a lot worse done for a lot less, she thinks to say, but decides against to, her gaze dropping down to a particularly uninteresting piece of tile floor. ]

[Rowen? A snort breaks through both the gravity of the morning and his hangover.]

Come on. Can you imagine me with a moustache like that?

[Alvin turns to her and makes a W with his hands under his nose, index fingers reaching all the way back to his ears. For a second, it is like he's twenty-one again and they're back in Fennmont, joking over cheap breakfast, unaware how close they stood to a precipice of lies.

He holds onto that smile for a moment as he disposes of the eggshells and passes Presa to wash his hands.]

Not saying no to a beard, though. [Thoughtfully:] I think I'd look good with a beard.

[Kill him now, Presa, you're the only one who can.

Back to the grim topic at hand, though. Alvin looks at her over his shoulder, face sort of unreadable. 'A kid that age.' How old was Teruteru? Older than Jude. Older than Elize.]

...You were that age.

[It's a quiet observation, self-aware and careful. Alvin knows he only knows that because she told him, and soon as she told him, he turned her in.]

[ Welt is no stranger to the appearance or layouts of military facilities - though the ones that hold such variance in allowing for use for extraordinarily non-humannoid individuals is a new one. He can already draw his own unfortunate conclusions about it, though he prefers to leave those aside until he's able to gather more information.

In certain respects, anyway. At the least no matter what kind of facility he's been, there's always some sort of library-like area. This place being no exception.

There are various pieces of fiction available for Welt's personal perusal - and others for that matters. To the point where he's found himself engrossed in an inspiring adventurous tale about a person who finds hope in a destitute situation against a great evil, finds friends in their time of need, and the like. It's some kind of obvious fantasy story about heroes saving the day, probably with an apt title, and illustration of such as well.

Just in time for Alvin to come along when he's standing nearby a bookshelf - and so when the other man grants him a title...well, it is pretty ironic, because he has been called a Professor in the past before. Such that, he blinks at the other for a moment, and remembers that this is certainly nowhere near Caltech. ]

...Hm? Why do you say that? Is there something I can help you with, Alvin?

[ Welt closes his book, Adventures of the Dawn Hero, to signify his full attention. ]

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mistletoe meme but people die-

kabru | dungeon meshi

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3+6 if that works!

welt yang | honkai star rail

Murdergame in Space, wildcard option

kinda verges on that quasi-suicidal futurelessness from wcb r6 so. cw for that.

don't look at me

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🧍‍♀️ (spooky mansion edition)

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i have no actually appropriate icons for this

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Yeah I had to go MAKE icons, how dare you do this to me

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I rolled 3 - Facility. Please let me know if I should change anything!

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Looks good to me~