First.

[trustwellness]

The past five days have come and gone, though exactly how easily they've done so is debatable; some have been trying to press onward in their optimism and faith that things will get better, while some seem convinced that things will only go downhill from here. However people have chosen to see it, though, clearly this week hasn't been all bad – after all, attempts at encouraging unity among the group seem to have been at least reasonably successful. ...Seem to have been. Friday dawns like the rest of the week before it – the clock chimes the hour at seven, the doors to the kitchen and the mail room unlock, and the building is quiet. It would seem that maybe the night passed reasonably quietly – were it not for the large red smears on the walls and floor of the southeastern side of the dormitory. It looks like somebody decided to be a damn overachiever and took some initiative of their own. >Explore?

Comments

[neverheardofhim]

[It was the clock the rouses Varric at first, for once encouraging him to actually get out of bed. As sat up and ambled to the door, though the scent of rust but not-rust accosts his nose. Bile rises in his throat, and he turns the knob.]

[From directly outside of room 009, he glanced up and down the hall. A drop of sweat trickled down his spine. First he followed his nose, then the smears themselves, leaving behind him a string of blasphemous swears.]

Andraste's chapped ass, when I find out who did this I'll--

[trustwellness]

[Actually, it smells a lot less like rust than you'd think.]

[neverheardofhim]

[Welp.]

[Either way, something smells fishy (probably not literally), and he's chasing it down.]