|
Post by Avery on Jun 23, 2015 10:59:27 GMT -5
(( Apologies for the delay in update - have had some real life stuff come up. Am writing this from work but want to try my best to get the post written after I get home tonight. Since I don't want to delay the start of next round over long, I'm going to set a tentative night deadline for tomorrow at 7pm pacific - if you are a night actor please get your move in to me by then. I apologize for the shortish notice and will try to be more timely in the future.))
|
|
|
Post by Liou on Jun 23, 2015 13:36:16 GMT -5
Victoria groaned inwardly, a stiff smile plastered on her face. She should have known better than to address yet another rambly old person, especially after taking so much trouble to escape from a whole herd of them. Now she would be stuck listening to stories about the flower lady's grandparents and their underwear for minutes - the horror! She couldn't help but look a tiny bit impressed by the humming, spinning flower, though. The woman used these plants to brew skills? What a quack. She had to be a quack, right? But then again, she had been selected to provide the flowers for this important occasion. The Council's agents would never have let a fraud into their list of approved suppliers. She had to have passed all the required inspections. Unless she had rambled the inspectors to sleep with a thrilling tale about her aunt's dentures. Victoria let out a tiny yawn, raising her hand daintily to cover her mouth. Of course she did not need a skill for stuffing things into a handbag. If she ever needed to travel to the far reaches of Melville, her precious belongings would be shoved onto someone else's shoulders, an average townsperson with nothing better to do, for instance, and Victoria need only drag her arbitrary porter behind her for a while, thank you very much. These commoners and their convoluted solutions. The pale daylight glinted in the next vial as the saleswoman held it up, catching Victoria's eye. Sounding sympathetic was such a bother. Though it was nothing bombastic and probably not a worthy investment, she had to admit that the saleswoman might have had a good idea with this one. "That, or it might be the skill of brewing every kind of tea at the right temperature. Kinda hard to tell right now, the way the layers have settled.""Do you mean to say that you don't know what's in your own vials?" Victoria hissed, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the not-quack who might be a quack after all and might even be trying to poison her. Before she could complain properly, the saleswoman's last offer finally caught her attention. Not the part about tightropes - did Victoria seem likely to run away and join the circus? No, she didn't think so. But the part about taking away one's fear of heights... maybe it helped with balance and heights overall, and not only tightropes. Victoria gave the bottle her full attention this time, standing a little straighter. A brief image of the Wall flashed in her mind, the Wall that some rebels apparently fancied scaling. She chased it away immediately. If this "skill", against all odds, was the real thing, it should not end up in the wrong hands. She should make sure that no one else got it. And if it ended up being useful, all for the better. She pursed her lips, then withdrew a thick billfold from her purse. "These seem... acceptable. I shall have the tightrope skill. And... the sympathy to go along with it, why not." She added that last part with an airy wave of her hand, as if to accept extra sprinkles on her ice cream, before beginning to count the money. "They had better be what you said they are. If I experience any unexpected effects..." She smiled coldly. "... you will hear about it." Victoria enjoys some shopping with Huntress! She bought the tightrope walking skill and the maybe-sympathy skill. And she was very nice, as usual.
|
|
|
Post by Thundy on Jun 23, 2015 19:25:51 GMT -5
"Hey, it's always nice to meet a fan," Sampson beamed, he always did like meeting with the people who listened in. "Nonsense, I grew up in your district, before I came on the radio." Indeed he had, not only living there but serving in the guard protecting it at night. He put a hand on Fortune's shoulder. "I know full well the pain and sorrow the resistance can bring into your life. They took something from me once, just as they have taken something from you, and life never is the same. Believe me, from this point on, you can only get stronger," Sampson said, hoping to reassure Fortune Hart. The loss of a child was indeed much crueler than what had befallen him, but nonetheless, Sampson wished to help. The organ continued to droll out the heavy tones of the Council's hymns, lifting the sound high above the crowd and into the sky. The microphones broadcast the music out far beyond the walls of the town, all extolling the name of the deceased Arlie Brook. It was one of those rare times where Sampson didn't have to be broadcasting, the work was being done for him by the Council and the town bishop for the service, so it was nice that he could make time with his fellow citizens during the daylight for once, even if the circumstances were rather tragic. Sampson converses and continues to console PFA
|
|
|
Post by Lizica on Jun 24, 2015 16:43:30 GMT -5
It had been a pretty bad day so far. No one had come into the Melville Tourism Agency to ask Joan about hotel pricings, or how to get the best mid-week discount on the entry fee for the local Melville museum (its current traveling exhibition: "Your Friend the Council and You!"), and not a single person had come in to get maps to the Melville Fire Department Station #3 Autograph Center. And then she found out why: It turned out that someone had been killed. And while it was admittedly almost nice that the entire town would be congregating at that fascinating spot by the Wall (near the famous scorch mark where a tree branch had struck the Wall back in the Great Thunderstorm 17 years ago), it was hardly going to be a popular tourist attraction after this, because then the entire vicinity would be bogged down by the lingering connotations of death and murder and rebels and mourning and sadness and loss and other things that generally did not exactly bode very well for drawing happy tourists on vacation. And then, as if this wasn't bad enough, it was a child who'd been killed, and they'd been shot in the back. First of all-- what; second of all-- why; third of all--where on earth does one even get a gun in Melville; fourth of all--if you even had a gun and you weren't part of the city guard, why the heck would you point it at someone instead of donating it to the museum, which was clearly the obvious solution; because fifth of all--honestly! If it was an antique, guns could be a great historical exhibit! Being a sightseeing attraction was a far better use of an object than making some violent display of it. This is why Melville needed tourism, to teach people the proper importance and care of landmarks. And sixth of all--wait, when did KMLV say the mandatory service was--? Joan didn't recognize the name of the deceased when they stated it on the radio, but they must have been someone important in addition to being someone far too young, because of this major funeral and the Council's involvement. After changing into a dark sweater, she stuffed a binder with getaway coupons and brochures. You know, just in case. It would definitely be uncouth to give a marketing spiel during a funeral, but there was certainly nothing wrong with someone approaching her in need of a vacation or a day trip or a distraction. Because after news like this? Even Joan might need to go mini-golfing or cloudwatching by the river. A Joan post with no dialogue. It feels so wrong. D: She hears the news about Arlie, rambles inwardly, and heads off to the funeral. She might be slightly late, because this post is really late. But that's okay, right, because Joan has brochures.
|
|
|
Post by Avery on Jun 24, 2015 19:19:18 GMT -5
Chapter Two: A Crime of Opportunity It was a little past sundown on the day of Arlie Brook’s funeral, and in the little shack in the barren fruit orchard, four people sat ‘round the unsteady table, shivering in the cold as they waited for their final member to arrive. “Where is that lout?” the one murmured, voice obscured by the scarf wrapped around their face. October—gods, was it truly only October? The air was so bitter it stung in midwinter form. “Stop worrying so much,” the second returned, fighting back a shudder. “I’m sure he’s fine.”“Fine?” The third laughed. “Yesterday when he was late, and you assured me he was fine, he showed up two hours later having murdered a child. He’s a loose cannon, and I don’t trust him.”“He’s dedicated,” said the fourth. “And I don’t think he’d be so stupid again. Just be patient. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”Indeed, only minutes later, the flimsy door leading into the shack creaked open, and the fifth—and final—member of the Resistance stepped inside. Or perhaps swaggered might have been a more accurate assessment: after all, Sebastian McKenzie-Forbes-Thurlow-Thomas never truly walked so much as sashayed, never smiled so much as grinned, never spoke so much as orated, like a politician behind the podium. “You’ll never believe where I’ve been!” he gasped as he shut the door behind him. “#forthecause #bestmemberever.”“Dear gods.” The one outright grimaced. “Haven’t I told you to stop talking like that?”“#nooneunderstands,” Sebastian replied, before plunking down in the final seat at the table. Beaming much as a child might beneath the glowing praise of a treasured teacher, the man went on, “So, I’m walking along the street just across the bridge from the Island, right, and who do I see walking in front of me, all by their very lonesome? No other than Victoria Sheridan – yes, that Victoria Sheridan, cousin of Councilwoman McGill!”“A touching story, Sebastian.” The second’s voice was as icy as the air. “But it has hardly anything to do with our plans for how to—”“#stopinterruptingme,” Sebastian snapped, before continuing smoothly, “So there I was, and there she was, and there my gun was.” He patted the gun he’d used to shoot Arlie Brook, still hidden in the waistband of his pants. “And an idea occurred to me, then. #innovator—”“You didn’t,” the one hissed. “Sebastian—!”“What?” He frowned. “Yes, of course I did it. She’s related to the Council! It’ll make them pay! Why, I bet someone already found the body, because I just left it in the street like a present! Oh, how fun it'll be when someone finds it! Carpe diem, seize the day, oh captain my—”“You freaking moron!” The second jumped clear up from their seat, gawping. “We have to be strategic when we kill those close to the Council! We need those deaths to be orchestrated to serve a purpose! And killing a teenager as she walks down the street isn’t that purpose—that’s only going to make the Council angrier, and then they'll paint us as worse monsters than they already have!”“Give over the gun, Sebastian,” growled the third. “I don’t trust you with it anymore, you impulsive fool—”“We were going to start murdering eventually, weren’t we?” Sebastian returned, although he nevertheless dug out his gun and nudged it across the table toward his fellow Resistance members. “So when I saw the opportunity, well—you can’t just let opportunities like that pass you by! #opportunistic”“No, Sebastian.” The fourth picked up the gun, staring dourly down at it. “There’s a difference between being opportunistic and being impulsive. Being reckless. What if there was a witness you didn’t see? What if she’d tried to run? What if she had the Guard tailing her because she’s related to McGill? You didn’t think this through at all—hell, you could have just led the whole Guard here—”“Chill out.” Sebastian pouted his lip. “#martyr, I’m such a martyr, you guys sit here talking but doing nothing, and when finally I act, you get mad at me. Gosh, is this a Resistance, or a book club meeting?”“A Resistance.” The fourth swallowed hard, sharing a look with the other three. A grim, knowing look. “Unfortunately,” they went on, “I don’t think you understand the stakes here, Sebastian. I really don’t.”“You’re not an asset,” added the second, “but a liability.”“#betrayed—”“For the love of the gods, shut up,” the first hissed, before nodding toward the fourth. “Do it,” they commanded. “And then we need to get out of here. You’re right; if we’re unlucky, he’s just tipped the entire Guard off about this place, they could be on their way here right now.”“Do what?” Sebastian asked, frowning. “#confusion—”“This,” the fourth said simply.And with that, they raised the gun and fired a bullet square between Sebastian McKenzie-Forbes-Thurlow-Thomas’s eyes.
Sebastian McKenzie-Forbes-Thurlow-Thomas was #Resistance. Victoria Sheridan was an innocent townsperson.
|
|
|
Post by The Scrac that Smiles Back on Jun 25, 2015 11:47:18 GMT -5
In the morning Drale’s assistant entered the workshop and found Drale there, as expected. But he wasn’t working. She approached him and spoke, “You look tired.” He glanced up at her from his small army of figurines. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Oh,” she said, then smiled, “I’ve got great news! The guard shot a resistance member! The guard I spoke to said he did it himself! They think the guy they shot was acting solo and that the resistance is no more! Isn’t that great news?” Drale was slow to respond. Finally, he replied, “That is good news. How did they find the man?” Her smile faded, “Well… he shot another young girl, but the guard was nearby when it happened and they followed him. Her name was Victoria Sheridan.” He rubbed his face. “Councilwoman McGill’s cousin,” he sighed, “Go open the shop, I’m going to find my radio. I’d like to hear the official report.” Drale’s assistant talked to a guard member who claimed to have been the one who shot Sebastian McKenzie-Forbes-Thurlow-Thomas after his murder of Victoria Sheridan. She shares the news with Drale.
|
|
|
Post by Lizzie on Jun 25, 2015 15:51:54 GMT -5
She was dead. Tierney Potter had never felt sadness this strongly before. She had gone to little Arlie’s funeral – she had cried, of course, as Arlie was but eight, and the Wall loved children, so she wept for the lost soul. But this was different. This was Victoria, the girl who had approached her in the store the day before – Victoria, a girl her age. Victoria, who didn’t like Cara, but that was okay, because she could have changed her mind. Victoria, who was… well, yes, mean to her, but she could’ve warmed up to Tierney the same way Tierney had warmed up to the idea of helping her. Hadn’t it been Victoria that had said it as Tierney stared at the glass, and then the knick knacks and thingamabobs on the wall? "I will let it slide if you make it up to me over the next few days. Just a helping hand here and there, I'm a busy woman and I haven't got all day," she had said. Though the proposal hadn’t cost Tierney much – just her voice, she figured, as she had been speechless, she had kept it in mind. But regarding Victoria’s poor unfortunate soul, it was sad (but true) that Tierney wouldn’t ever be able to help her. Even though Victoria had asked for Tierney’s help, Tierney hadn’t even been able to follow through. Tierney kneeled on the ground near the body, looking right past it to the blood on the ground. A shiver went down her back, and she stared up at anyone nearby. “Um… why’d this happen?” the teenager asked, and without waiting for a reply, she stood back up again. It was as if Tierney had snapped out of her daze for a moment, as she turned tail, running for the Wall. When she reached it, she extended her hands toward it, pressing her palms to the stone. With a shuddering sigh, Tierney sunk down, turning to put her back to the Wall. “Why does this have to happen, Wall? Why do people have to upset you?” Tierney muttered to the stones, and she could practically feel the Wall’s reply. It was a gentle shift in the wind, yes, but to Tierney, it meant something. Victoria dies and Tierney is sad D:
|
|
|
Post by Gelquie on Jun 25, 2015 19:57:51 GMT -5
Today was the day that Cori realized that having days off were not as cracked up as she thought it to be. After the memorial service ended and all things were taken care of, Cori just wanted to go back to work. Whether or not her boss would have given her the day off or not, Cori was sure that she would have been able to find things to do, even if it came down to balancing the finances book. But she couldn't justify it to herself. School was cancelled that day, and though she figured Rosemary would be fine by herself for the day, she wasn't so sure about Cara. The girl's sprained ankle might have kept her from going over the Wall, but that didn't mean she wouldn't find trouble, as was demonstrated to her that morning. So Cori ended up spending the day with them, not talking much to Cara after her latest inane outburst, but merely ensuring that they didn't run into any trouble. Especially with word of the Resistance around and murdering people. Eventually, the girls went back home, and Cori only left them alone long enough to go to a local store to pick up something for dinner. She had plenty of leftovers, particularly bread from the bakery or whatever else she could convince her boss to let her take home, but occasionally she needed to go out to get something a little more, just to make dinner less... starchy. She wasn't able to get much, but she was able to get a small cut of mutton. It wouldn't be a big dinner with the mutton combined with the bread she still had, but it would be enough. She was on her way back home, mutton under her arm when she heard someone rushing down the street, looking disheveled. The man bumped into her, nearly sending Cori sprawling. "What's your hurry?" Cori huffed. "Th-the guards! Where are the guards?" the man panted. Cori immediately dropped the lecture that was forming in her head in response to the man's initial rudeness. Oh no... "Haven't seen any lately, but try down that street a ways." She pointed. "There's usually some guard around there." "Thank you, it's just... Oh, I've been having the worst luck, trying to find the guards, after what I heard and then... Oh, that girl! The Council's girl! She's been murdered!" Cori's eyes went wide. "Wh- what? You mean... Besides the girl who had a funeral today?" "Yes, that girl I-I think it was Victoria. I... I can't stay, GUARDS!" The man then ran down the alley, and for a moment, Cori could only stare. Another murder. Probably by the same Resistance that killed Arlie. And a Councilperson's daughter too. Cori may never have thought too fondly of Victoria, especially after the way she insulted her family the way she did, but she was still close to the Council. And she certainly didn't deserve to be killed. The Resistance really was't going to stop at anything, were they? Cori let out a small shiver, almost considering going to find a guard herself. But... No. That man had it handled. And quite frankly, she didn't want to be dragged too much into this. Not when she had her family to take care of, and dinner to make for them. Even if Cara was probably going to pretend that the said dinner she'd spend all her time making didn't exist, and then she'd have another argument with her trying to convince her that yes, their family had food, and... ...Well, another argument or no, she still had to take care of them. So she strode down the street to her home. Thankfully, she wasn't too far away. Still, she couldn't help but keep glancing over her shoulder. Maybe the Council would be able to handle this... But until then, she had to look out for herself. Cori spends the day in her siblings' shadows, before leaving them at home and going to get a small cut of mutton for dinner. Along the way, a panicked man stumbles towards her, asking her where the guards are and telling her about the murder. Cori gives directions and is shocked and troubled by Victoria's death. She's on the streets near her home, if anyone wants to intercept her before she gets back.
|
|
|
Post by Thundy on Jun 26, 2015 2:30:46 GMT -5
When Sampson arrived at the station the next morning, he found the place once again unusually busy, although this time there had been no mysterious phonecall in the night. Reuben was waiting for him with Ms. Fauna, the council's representative at the station. Something certainly must have happened.
“Something here I should be aware of?” Sampson remarked to them as he walked towards the front desk. Reuben had the marks of fatigue under his eyes and had clearly been at work all night. Ms. Fauna was also starting to look a little tired around the edges.
“Overnight developments in the Arlie Brook case. Hope you're ready for this, because it's a big one. We need to be on the ball,” said Ms. Fauna. “The Council is still unsure how to put the right spin on this.”
“Was the murderer identified?” Sampson asked, reading a breifing that Reuben handed him.
“Yes, well, his body was. Shortly thereafter another victim was found in the island district, another child, barely a day over 17.”
“Good lord.”
“We suspect that indeed that Sebastian did shoot Victoria Sheridan, but he was also possibly executed by other members of the resistance. Obviously the Council would like to take the credit for this action and they're working on a backstory as we speak. We've got somebody from the guard that will take responsibility of apprehending Sebastian.”
Sebastian and Victoria, two names Sampson knew, after all everyone knew almost everyone in the island district. He had even seen them before at the funeral.
“The Council is not going after any more leads in the case? You mentioned he was executed possibly by other members of the Resistance?” Sampson asked, flipping through more pages in the summary report
“Yes, but the Council believes that with the actions of the past few days that sufficient scrutiny will already be placed on the remaining members, and it would be extremely unlikely for them to undertake more violent actions.”
“As always, the Council is wise in their decisions.”
“Of course it is Mr. Thorpe.” Ms. Fauna nodded at Sampson and Reuben before cutting the conversation off and exiting the building. Reuben turned to his colluege.
“She scares me, every time she shows up we're suddenly pulling double-overtime,” he said. Sampson nodded in agreement. Reuben continued, “No news is going out this morning until they give us a story for you, and McGill is out of the picture in emergency meetings, we're going to have to wing it with the music.”
“Let's just roll with “Melville's Top 40 Wall Ballads”, it takes up a two hour slot, that should buy them enough time. What's it looking like for the Wall Ball today? At least that might give us something to reall take everyone's minds off these horrible murders.” Sampson asked.
“Cloudy Joe at the weather bureau forecasted rain for the afternoon, stadium officials might call a postponement.”
“It's just gonna be one of those days, Reub.” Sampson said, patting him on the shoulder, and walking off towards the broadcasting booth.
|
|
|
Post by PFA on Jun 26, 2015 14:12:54 GMT -5
It had been an eventful past two days. First, Arlie had come to Fortune's house to live with her. Next thing she knew, Arlie was dead... thanks to Arlie, she'd left her house for longer than usual twice in a row, and had even met Sampson Thorpe in person for the first time in her life. It was like a whirlwind of emotions for Fortune Hart, and right now she really wanted nothing more than to relax at home. She sat in her favorite knitting chair, turned on the radio—she still couldn't believe she'd met Sampson in person—and began work on finishing her scarf for the nth time. It occurred to her that there might still be talk of the Resistance and poor Arlie's murder, but she would have been thinking about it regardless if the radio wasn't on, so she decided to brave it in favor of the more relaxing parts of her favorite radio show. The music, and Sampson talking about the big game of Wall Ball... Except then a report came on about how two more people were found dead. Fortune tried to suppress the sudden queasiness in her stomach. What on earth was this town coming to? It was supposed to be safe behind the Wall... wasn't it? Fortune tries to relax at home after the exhausting past two days, but then hears the radio report about the deaths. It has not been a good past few days for Fortune.
|
|
|
Post by Ginz ❤ on Jun 26, 2015 14:38:55 GMT -5
Leira's phone rang at that moment, so she put down her diary to answer. The caller ID said it was a private number, but Leira knew it was her father calling from work. No one else ever called her. "Father? I think you accidentally locked the door on your way out," Leira said as soon as she picked up. "Leira, listen to me. Whatever you do, don't go outside. Stay home." Her father's voice sounded stern, and almost worried. "What? Whyyy?" Leira whined. "You're not still paranoid about the resistance going after kids, are you? i told you, I can take came of myself! Just tell me where the spare key is!" She demanded. "I took it with me," he replied, and Leira's face fell. "You are not to go out under any circumstances. Is that clear?" Leira didn't reply. " What is his problem?!" she thought."Is that clear?" He repeated more gravely. Leira groaned. "Leira," he started, his voice breaking. "They killed another girl... a girl your age. Victoria Sheridan. If they..." There was a long pause. "I can't let anything happen to you." He finally said. "...Dad? I'll be okay. I promise," she said, and hung up. Leira hastily collected her most important belongings. Her diary, her rock from outside, a change of clothes, and all her savings. She threw them up in her old backpack and put it on. She took a bobby pin from her vanity, and started on the task to pick on the lock and break free. It took her a long time, and she almost gave up more than once, but finally, the door clicked, and without a moment's hesitation, she ran out onto the streets, headed for the wall. She had no idea how she was gonna get out, but she had to. Her life depended on it. Leira's father locks her in at home that morning to protect her, and calls her on the phone to tell her about Liou's murder, asking her to stay in, and stay safe. However, this has the opposite effect on Leira, who feels she's no longer safe in Melville, and decides to run away to the Great Outside. She breaks out and starts making her way towards the wall. She doesn't know how she'll escape yet (she clearly didn't think this through), but maybe she'll run into others on her way.
|
|
|
Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Jun 26, 2015 15:20:24 GMT -5
If it weren't for her mental training, Laurie Blackwell would have had it up to HERE right now. The five pointed star pose--aimed perfectly for the exact thirty minutes the sun would be setting--made several students complain that "their arms hurt" and trying to bend sideways into the starfish pose some students even fell over! Like, gods....and goddesses! (Laurie didn't want to leave any potential deities out, you see). Class was dismissed early and Laurie left the room, forgetting to roll up her mat. What would happen to it, anyway? Never mind. She had messenger duty to get to. I'll be home in an hour or so. See you then? Also, can you water the plants for me? Thanks! Laurie thought as loudly as she could--thoughts are often quieter than whispers, after all. And certainly much quieter than that girl over there talking to...or at, the Wall. Man, did SHE have her qi all over the place. Such wasn't proper for a balanced life, not proper at all. “Why does this have to happen, Wall? Why do people have to upset you?” she muttered. The wind lifted her hair, but just a little bit, just as the girl had said this. "Whoa," Laurie whispered. Maybe her qi was in the right place after all! "How'd you get the wall to respond?" Laurie edged closer, trying to hear the secrets of the wall-whisperer. Sometimes the answer was blowing in the wind. She was in tune with the Earth, definitely, but if there was one thing Laurie knew, it was that the girl's breathing was out of whack. Laurie put a hand on the girl's shoulder and demonstrated her best breathing technique, using her hands to mimic the air completely filling the body, and then being let out slowly. It was helping her de-stress from her awful class, that was certain. After a few repetitions of this, she smiled down at her. "See how calming this exercise can be?" Victoria's dead body gave no response. "GINGKO BILOBA!" Laurie fled, running far, far away. She'd never return to that spot. Boss would be mad if she started late, anyway. Just...no. No dead bodies here. No. Not now. She did not need this... *** "That new scarf's coming out of your paycheck, you know." It was difficult to see his eyes through the slit, but Laurie could hear the disapproval in his voice. "Yes...thanks anyway." Laurie sighed. At least she wasn't getting fired. "This message is from...oh gods, I can't read this handwriting. Let's say it's anonymous. It goes to Fortune Hart, and it says 'your furniture doesn't match so you don't get any Happy Hermit's House points. Payment comes from Ms. Hart since we don't really know who sent this." Laurie wrinkled her nose. "That's a strange message. I mean Feng Shui's important but..what's the Happy Hermit's House thing mean?" "Sounds like you got the message." "Fortune Hart, from anonymous, furniture doesn't match, no HHH points." Laurie shot off, towards a remote section of Melville. She had an idea of where Ms. Hart lived. Just another left turn... There it was. The smallest house in the eastern section. Glancing through the semi-open filthy window, she noticed a lot of tiny knickknacks. And there SHE was! Fortune Hart, curled up but not sleeping. Laurie threw the stray end of her scarf over her neck and knocked loudly. "Ms. Hart? Message for you. Payment not yet received." Footsteps. Laurie continued through the door. "It's from an anonymous person who says your furniture doesn't match so you're not getting any Happy Hermit's House Points." She felt awkward even saying it. Laurie has a rough day teaching yoga cause her students can't take her flexibility range and they complain all the time. She shoots a message about watering the plants to Carlos ( RielCZ) and then hears someone talking to the Wall ( Lizzie). Of course, she then sees the body and freaks out. Shortly afterward, she receives a message to deliver from an anonymous person intended for Fortune ( PFA). Animal crossing players will understand the message, but I doubt Fortune or other people will. Tee hee!~
|
|
|
Post by Coaster on Jun 26, 2015 16:12:31 GMT -5
It was nighttime. Not like the nighttime it seemed like after the mean guy ripped Arlie off and shot the gun, and when they found Arlie and people started screaming and crying, and when they put Arlie in a box and there was more crying, even though it was hard to hear through the wood. And it wasn't like the nighttime inside, where Arlie didn't get to say goodbye to Fortune after they'd gone for ice cream and had fun around town. This time it was just a regular nighttime, and cold, and windy, and all the stars were in the sky which was weird because it was supposed to be cloudy. Arlie got up and turned around and noticed that the town was far below, full of sparkling lights and closed in by the wall. And there was a little, wispy cloud between Arlie and the town. But that was pretty weird, because people could never reach the clouds, and that would maybe let people go over the Wall anyways, which would be terrible because outside the Wall is a terrible place. Arlie started wondering why the town didn't have a roof too, but turned around again and saw a house on the cloud with a rocking chair near it. It didn't look like Fortune's house but if this is where they put Arlie after getting shot, maybe it was Arlie's new home? Arlie went in the door--weirdly it didn't need to be open--and shouted really loudly, "Is there ANYONE HOME? Also, I think your door's broken too!" Arlie is basically repeating with Old Man Ghost ( Fraze) what happened with Fortune.
|
|
|
Post by Fraze on Jun 26, 2015 16:35:41 GMT -5
The previous dayMilling around the outer edge of the funeral crowd, Jensa saw Ene by the food table. She usually only saw the woman on her way to work, and so didn't get to talk with her very often. She slowly pushed her way through the crowd toward the flower-and-skill seller, only to realize once she got closer that someone was already there. It was a girl, a few years younger than Jensa. Jensa didn't remember her from back when she had been in school, but judging from the girl's clothes she probably didn't go to Mr. Nook's school anyway. She looked to be buying something from Ene. "Ooh, the tightrope skill! I have that one but I haven't been able to use it yet because -" she stopped herself before admitting that she couldn't afford a tightrope. "Anyway, we could do a show together!" Realizing this girl didn't look like a 'doing together' sort of person, she added, "I can do an introduction and introduce you as the main show!" The current dayWell, so much for that. Even if the girl - Victoria - had agreed to doing a show with her, it was a moot point now. Just yesterday, Jensa had talked with someone who was dead today. Well, not "with" so much as "at," but the point remained. Three people had died in two days, all because of this resistance. This was not a sort of world Jensa wanted to live in. Conspiracies were supposed to be fun and silly and if they were dangerous, then they were the sort of danger that didn't actually affect you. And it looked like she would never get to do an actual show, either. But the bread still needed to be won, and so Jensa went out to win it in her own particular way. As she unpacked at her customary spot on the edge of the town square, the guard glared at her but said nothing. As he always did. But somewhere in the middle of juggling two rings, two bowling pins, and one stuffed ostrich while balancing a third pin on her head, the part of Jensa's mind that was constantly concerned with observing the flow of people realized that someone was talking to the guard. Someone official-looking, in a minor sort of way. The person looked at her several times. She hoped that just meant that they liked her performance and might give her some money, but when the person left and the guard started to walk over to her, she quickly realized that wasn't going to happen. As the guard approached, she let the juggled objects plop into her hands. "There's a carnival tomorrow," the guard told her. He sounded brisk and formal, but not as threatening as Jensa had always imagined. "There will be a stage set up and you'll be doing a performance." Jensa blinked and stammered a bit. "I will?" "Yes." It clearly wasn't a suggestion. "All right," she said. "What sort of performance?" "That's up to you, but it needs to be your best work. If you need supplies, the Council can provide them within reason." Jensa thought for a moment. "...A tightrope would be nice." The guard nodded. "I'll send a message." After a moment, he held out a sheet of paper. "Oh yes, this is the flyer." "CARNIVAL!" the flyer header read. "Come See Melville's Finest Performers, Exhibitions, and Crafts Tomorrow! Free Food For All Attendees!" First three people died, and now the Council was giving people food and a carnival? This couldn't possibly be a coincidence, but Jensa didn't want to question it too much, because she would finally get her show! Up in the clouds"Is there ANYONE HOME? Also, I think your door's broken too!"Old Ghost Guy started a bit. Nearly two centuries of death hadn't eliminated that reflex. He looked over to the door. A child stood there, almost more dirt than person, and more ghost than either of those things. "What are you doing here? Get off my cloud!" he growled, shaking his cane at the intruder. Then he took a closer look. "Wait, you're that kid. The one that got knocked off." He had seen Arlie playing outside when most of the other kids were in school and the adults were at work. Then he had seen her when she clumsily tried to get a gun to get rid of the resistance. He unwillingly felt a pang of sympathy. Then imagining the child wielding a gun, shame swirled in his gut like nausea. He put down the cane and sighed. "Never mind, come inside. I just made tea." He pulled a chair out from the table. There were two chairs for some reason, even though he never had guests. "Have a seat. Arlie, is it? That's what they were calling you at the funeral. Tell me about yourself." Jensa tries to talk Victoria ( Liou) into doing a tightrope performance but then she dies. Then it turns out she gets to do a performance anyway, because Melville is having a carnival. ((So this carnival thing is a mini-arc that got talked about on the Town Skype chat. There will be shows and exhibitions and stalls. Anyone who wants to do a performance or show off their finest wares can, and anyone who just wants to show up is also welcome.)) Old Ghost Guy tells Arlie ( Coaster) to get off his cloud, which is pretty much half the reason the character exists in the first place. Then he invites Arlie in for tea.
|
|
|
Post by RielCZ on Jun 26, 2015 16:42:09 GMT -5
"And done," Carlos said to no one in particular as he sealed an envelope addressed to the council's inventions and patents division. He'd hand the envelope to the messenger next one came. While all patents technically were owned by the council, Melville's engineers received a small severance for every new and working invention submitted, a lump sum often based on the creation's usefulness. In rare cases, the creator would receive a small percentage of future incomes generated by future retail sales of their council-authorized designs, but this was mostly to keep the engineers from revolting in the rare event a product really took off—the council, of course, took sole credit for Melville's creations. Carlos had just created and now submitted plans for a cheaper and more efficient form of the bicycle, in addition to the process in which to create it. Melville was not host to many bicycles... Maybe this would now change. He hoped it would. It would probably in the long run net him more funds. And he needed funds for the upcoming wedding... This design would probably allow him maybe half or two thirds the cost, but not the whole thing. But Laurie had her jobs too, of course. Speaking of the wedding... He supposed they had some planning to do. Who would they invite? Would they get the bishop to preside? What kind of cake? What kind of flowers? I'll be home in an hour or so. See you then? Also, can you water the plants for me? Thanks! a voice resounded loudly. That broke his train of thought. Sure thing Laurie, he replied with an equal loudness. I'll get right on it. See you then!He walked outside and journeyed to a medium-sized plot nearby the apartment building, part of a larger community garden for that neighbourhood. He had a full can of water in his hands—that was one feature of Melville that transcended class, virtually all the homes had basic electricity and indoor plumbing free-of-charge to all taxpaying citizens—and he started to water the daisies and azaleas. Carlos enjoyed gardening... His mother had been a phytochemist and ethnobotanist and she kept a sizable greenhouse in the yard of his childhood home. His enjoyment merely intensified living with Laurie, who believed gardening and a good connection to earth was good for the soul. He decided then to turn on his radio to KMLV before watering the hyacinths, just in case there were any new developments. He heard... music. Strange. But a strangely pleasurable strange. Flicking the watering can here and there Carlos even hummed along to some of the tunes. "Oh yes," he said when Melvillian Woman started playing. "Alright," he mused, "what's left? Dahlias, evening scented stalks... and yarrow, of course." Laurie believed gardening was good for tea in addition to qi. And then a girl ran past him, huffing and with a sling over her shoulder. This was... not what he expected to happen. "Girl," he called out to her, "where are you running to?" He wondered if she might be a messenger. Another messenger who lost her scarf. "Will you take a package?" And then the music on his radio ceased and it was replaced with words. Words about someone getting shot. "Shoot," he sighed. Some other girl, only 17. "...Didn't expect that to happen. Again." Relative of the council, too. At least a member of the resistance was also dead, but who knows how many more there were... Carlos licked his dry lips and adopted a determined expression. He still had a non-lethal-under-normal-conditions high-intensity water gun to finish. Carlos muses about the engineering profession in Melville after sealing some new plans for a new bicycle. He hopes, after its successful completion, the council will give him enough for it to pay for at least half of his upcoming wedding. He then muses about said wedding. Laurie ( Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)) communicates a message to Carlos to water the plants, and he proceeds to go to the little garden plot nearby the apartment to do that. He sees Leira ( Ginz ❤) running by and wonders if she's a messenger; he has to give the sealed plans to some messenger after all. He calls out to her. And almost immediately afterward he hears on his radio that there was another murder, and that someone of the resistance is also dead. This strengthens his resolve to finish the non-lethal-under-normal-conditions high-intensity water gun for Laurie.
|
|