|
|
Post by Avery on Jul 18, 2011 1:48:02 GMT -5
The Narrator is peeved at being locked in the civic center with the townsfolk of Netwaffle, to say the least. Her pies are almost sold out, the dances are boring and the music too loud, and the punch is running low. The whole thing was getting awful before before Porpington overreacted at the latest murder and locked the entire town inside, swallowing the key to ensure the town's adherence to his decree. Because that was a perfectly logical thing to do-- locking vulnerable people inside with several serial killers. Mmhm.
Sometimes the logic-- or lack thereof-- of the people of Netwaffle still astounds her.
Sighing, the Narrator wanders about the room, eventually hovering near Drake, who is standing near a table eating deli meat. Like most of the crowd, he seems incredibly perturbed by the turn of events.
"Fun dance, eh?" she asks him wistfully. "Trapped with killers in a claustrophobic room-- it's just peachy."
|
|
|
|
Post by Kozma on Jul 18, 2011 7:27:31 GMT -5
(Question: based on what I've read, I am assuming that the characters who are ghosts are not in the ballroom and are not involved in any activity currently taking place here. Is this correct?)
|
|
|
|
Post by Terra on Jul 18, 2011 8:53:28 GMT -5
((Actually, the ghosts were required to attend, too, so they're trapped inside, as well.))
|
|
|
|
Post by Celestial on Jul 18, 2011 9:03:39 GMT -5
Celes had come to the dance, although she had not participated. She had always hated this sort of thing. Back when she was alive, she would have at least pretended to enjoy herself as much as possible to keep up the appearance of the airheaded rich girl. But there was no need to pretend ever since she was killed, much to her relief. She just hung around in the corner, not paying anybody much attention and thinking about the mafia killings. By the looks of it, the whole town was here. Three of them were mafia. And considering how thin the population number had grown, you'd think finding them would be easy. But no, every single townsperson gave off the image of being above suspicion. They had to get it right. If they murdered another innocent, the mafia would win.
Suddenly, chaos broke out. To put it mildly. The weatherman had been discovered dead and the mayor, in a moment of "brilliance" had locked them all in. Great. He was always known for his smart decisions.
Celes could have phased through the walls. For a moment she was very tempted to do so. However, she would get no other chance to have the mafia all in one place. She might as well stay.
The girl eyed the panicking crowd. She tried to remember Amati and how he was almost above suspicion. Who in this room was above suspicion? Chances are they were the killers. Only those with something to hide would hide.
|
|
|
|
Post by Robyn on Jul 18, 2011 9:36:10 GMT -5
Robyn sat in her typewriter, trying to think herself down to a state of calm. Maybe she was worrying about nothing. Even if he was looking for trouble, Icon knew how to take care of himself. He'd been in the profession for years now; he knew what hazards there were and what precautions to take in accordance to said hazards. But then again, she'd thought that she'd been prepared before her murder. The ribbons in the typewriter whirred as her anxiousness mounted.
"Hey, Icon!"
Robyn was snapped out of her worried trance at the sound of a nearby voice-- Terra's voice, if she was hearing correctly. She inwardly frowned. Terra seemed to be talking to Icon a lot lately. What was up with that? From what she remembered, they hadn't really been the best of friends before she died-- or, if they were, not nearly as good of friends as Icon and herself had been. Again, Robyn didn't get too far in mulling over her suspicions before she heard a quiet noise close by. Terra was still here. Robyn immediately stopped spinning the ribbons and tried to make the machine as quiet as possible, hoping that if she acted inanimate enough, Terra might lose interest.
She felt a hand on the piece of paper. CRAP, Robyn thought. An ice pick of fear stabbed at her soul as she frantically checked to make sure she hadn't thought that hard enough to print it out on the page. She hadn't, by some strange miracle. But she couldn't do anything as she felt the paper being ripped out of the top of the typewriter.
"Hey, Icon! Come here. I have something of yours."
Agh, why couldn't Terra just mind her own business? Hopefully she would just try and talk to Icon about what surely looked like his way of coping with the death of a dear friend, and not try and perform some crazy exorcism.
And then all hell broke loose. She heard yelling, running, the shaking of doors-- absolute chaos. She had no idea what was going on, and her soul seized up when someone knocked into the table, making the typewriter jostle dangerously. She really didn't want to find out what would happen if the thing broke.
From somewhere below, she heard Terra yell, "Icon! Icon! Where are you?"
Despite her mistrust, she was glad one of them was able to check up on him.
"Terra? What are you doing down there? Is this supposed to be-"
He stopped mid-sentence. What was wrong? Robyn focused in on his voice as it grew more grave and hushed.
"Okay, look. We're trapped in here for the next however long this will be, that's a given. But if we stand out here in the open someone's bound to notice us, and if they do we're going to be in deep water. We've got to get cover, and fast. Do you know any good places in here where we can stay unnoticed?"
She felt the machine being picked up again, but she didn't dare type a thing, though she was desperate to know what had set everything into such a state of panic. Until Icon told Terra about her, or until Terra guessed, Robyn wasn't saying a word.
|
|
|
|
Post by Terra on Jul 18, 2011 9:42:47 GMT -5
"Okay, look. We're trapped in here for the next however long this will be, that's a given. But if we stand out here in the open someone's bound to notice us, and if they do we're going to be in deep water. We've got to get cover, and fast."
"Notice us...?" said Terra. "Why would they notice us in particular?"
The tension in Icon's voice was making her feel even more anxious than she already did.
"Do you know any good places in here where we can stay unnoticed?"
"Well...that's partly why I was under the punch table," said Terra. She could feel herself blushing a bit. In the back of her head, a little voice was wondering why she was calling it the punch table when it held more than just punch, but she barely even noticed it, let alone acknowledged it.
"I...this is yours," said Terra, holding out the paper for him. "Sorry I took it...I just figured that it was better than leaving it lying around."
|
|
|
|
Post by Avery on Jul 18, 2011 23:42:33 GMT -5
((Also, as I forgot to mention it here, please note that the execution deadline is Wednesday at 10am. I demand finger pointing before then. >D))
|
|
|
|
Post by icon on Jul 19, 2011 1:14:41 GMT -5
"Notice us...? Why would they notice us in particular?"
Icon frowned. "You know how these townspeople are, they'll notice anything that could be seen as suspicious. If you saw two people out in the open discussing something suspiciously, wouldn't you pay attention?" It really hadn't occurred to him that it might appear even more suspicious to talk in a more secretive area.
"Well...that's partly why I was under the punch table." He looked over at it. True, the spot could rouse a bit of suspicion if they got caught, but everyone was panicking right now, they had a bit of time to work before anyone calmed down enough to notice them. "Well, I suppose it's the best we're going to get," he muttered, heading over to the table.
She was holding the paper out to him now. This confirmed his suspicions- Terra had definitely read the conversation his conversation with Robyn. He took the paper back, stuffing it in his suit pocket. "Okay, here's the thing. You've read this, I'm quite certain you have. I appreciate you taking the bounds to make sure nobody else stumbled upon it, even if it meant tampering with my property."
"But before we go any further, I'm going to need to know- Can I trust you with this information? Can I know for certain that you won't take this secret and use it against me?"
Icon had the feeling that this was going to require as much tact as possible. A single slip up from either of them could end with both of them in very, very hot water.
|
|
|
|
Post by Draco on Jul 19, 2011 4:27:38 GMT -5
Drake glances at Nelly for a moment.
"Yeah, great place to be will killers. For both parties... I give it a hour before everyone starts to panic."
He glances at his cup of punch, it being empty.
"Excuse me. I need more punch. If I'm going to be stuck in here, I need something to drink."
He walks over to the punch bowl to refill his cup. He could have sworn he saw Icon and Terra here a moment ago.
"Hm, guess they left."
He refills his cup.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lizica on Jul 19, 2011 9:57:00 GMT -5
Ms. Rickshaw had been cursing herself ever since she'd been ushered into the civic center. If she had just stayed in her apartment, the mayor never would have found her. It was far too crowded in here, and she was starting to hyperventilate. (On the plus side, there were some sandwich fillings she could eat (though there oddly wasn't any bread).)
To make matters worse, the weatherman turned up dead. For the first time, Ms. Rickshaw wished that she had read the library book on Netwaffle secret passages... Maybe there would have been a hidden escape panel somewhere in this doomed ballroom. But this place was so modernized, the builders had probably bulldozed it during renovation.
People were starting to get panicky, and some were hiding under tables. Ms. Rickshaw edged her way over to the janitorial closet, hoping that it would make a sufficient stronghold if all these fiends started to get ugly. She threw open the door, screamed aloud when a mop fell on her, and, hoping very fervently that no one had noticed, seized the mop and flung the closet door shut behind her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Luna on Jul 19, 2011 11:33:34 GMT -5
Luna felt something in her stomach churn when the mayor had come screaming out murder. She had looked at him and watched as he locked the door and swallowed the key. She heard everyone complaining and Ari demanding that Meowington be released. Luna walked over to a trash bin and threw away her the rest of her pie, she wasn't hungry anymore.
"This is moronic!" Luna said, mostly talking to herself, but said it loud enough for the people around her to hear. She walked up to get more punch when she bumped into Drake.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Drake." She said, nothing had spilled on anyone, thankfully.
|
|
|
|
Post by Terra on Jul 19, 2011 14:36:15 GMT -5
"You know how these townspeople are, they'll notice anything that could be seen as suspicious. If you saw two people out in the open discussing something suspiciously, wouldn't you pay attention?"
"...I guess," said Terra. In all the chaos, she didn't think people were all that likely to notice, but it was possible, she supposed.
He looked at the punch table. "Well, I suppose it's the best we're going to get," he muttered, heading over.
He took the paper she was offering him and stuffed it into his pocket. "Okay, here's the thing. You've read this, I'm quite certain you have. I appreciate you taking the bounds to make sure nobody else stumbled upon it, even if it meant tampering with my property. But before we go any further, I'm going to need to know- Can I trust you with this information? Can I know for certain that you won't take this secret and use it against me?"
"Of course," said Terra. "I would never do something like that."
A million thoughts were running through her head. What was he thinking? Was he angry, despite what he was saying? Was he planning something? Had she done the right thing?
She waited with great anticipation - and a bit of apprehension - to see what he was going to say and do next.
|
|
|
|
Post by Avery on Jul 19, 2011 14:59:36 GMT -5
"Excuse me. I need more punch. If I'm going to be stuck in here, I need something to drink."
Before the Narrator can blink, Drake is gone. She would feel slighted, but then she supposes Drake is never very cordial with anyone, and why should she be the exception? Still, the not-entirely-pleasant exchange has left her even more nervous. Stuck in a ballroom with a trio of killers? She really wished someone had smacked some sense into Porpington before the sniveling bloke had had the chance to swallow the key.
Arms crossed nervously at her stomach, the Narrator wanders across the room, trying to find any friendly-looking person to latch onto. Being stuck with murderers is bad enough without feeling entirely alone. True, she doesn't know who the killers are, but she figures that at least if she's in a group, she won't be an easy target for whoever they decide to kill next.
She is just about the declare everybody in the room entirely not an option when she notices the town librarian, flitting about like a scared mouse. Biting her lip, the Narrator hurries after the woman and watches as she flings herself into, of all things, a janitorial closet. She sighs. Just another person trying to avoid the situation by hiding.
She is incredibly on edge now as she walks back to the main ballroom. Most people have broken off into tiny groups save for Porpington, who is standing alone and very flustered in the center of the room, still trying to stave off angry dance-goers who continue to demand their release.
My oh my, this is a mess. And knowing the townspeople, soon they will no longer be content huddling in relative quiet. They will want justice. Blood.
She dearly hopes Porpington has decided to set them free before someone gets lynched. Then this definitely will be the Worst. Dance. Ever.
|
|
|
|
Post by Nova on Jul 19, 2011 15:16:59 GMT -5
Meowington tried to calm Ariana down; he was fine. Well, as fine one could be in a claustrophobic room with three killers and a bunch of townsfolk ready to lynch somebody. Okay, so maybe he wasn't fine.
Nevermind, he was still angry at everybody. So whoever they were going to kill, he'd prefer somebody of importance. Not a nobody. But he couldn't fingerpoint, as it might lead to his own death. No... he could only invite fingerpointing.
"So!" he shouted to nobody in particular. "Who's part of the mafia?"
((come on guys, do fingerpointing D: fingerpointing is fuuuuun
edit: Don't forget to PM your votes to Carrie and myself (forum username: nova) I need your votes too!))
|
|
|
|
Post by Avery on Jul 19, 2011 15:32:31 GMT -5
((Additionally, as half the townspeople are now ghosts, ghosts may now fingerpoint! =D Hurrah!))
|
|
