Tarrlok (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodisthicker) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trusthell2016-03-05 04:01 pm
bloodisthicker) wrote in trusthell2016-03-05 04:01 pm
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? OUR TALES RIVAL JUST TURNED INTO A ZOMBIE!
[...so, uh, that was a thing that happened. Tarrlok was completely ready to do the politician thing and come up with a speech or something for most of whatever the hell that excuse for a trial was, but everything got all confusing, baffling, and horrifying and completely inexplicably, he can't find the words.
Maybe he just... needs a day. Tomorrow will probably be fine. For now, though, Misa volunteered to make brownies, and he was going to make a Northern Water Tribe comfort food specialty.
...even if they only had shortening and not actual animal fat and it'd been a while since he'd made it, but it tasted... alright? Definitely not as good as the stuff back home, but it was hard to get that good, anyway.
...there's also the matter of setting things up in a location other than the dining hall, because even though that's cleaned up, it still feels pretty tasteless to hold a wake literal feet from the place you found someone's bloody corpse.
So, a little later on in the day, a lovingly personalized note will be slid under everyone's doors:
And if the Survivors choose to head to the library, they'll find a... well, okay, it's a bunch of boxes from the storage room of comparable size stacked up on each other to kind of resemble a table. The dining hall ones don't even seem like they'd fit in the library, so Team Afterparty clearly had to improvise. One side is filled with plates, bowls, and spoons, and the other is filled with brownies, cookies, and a big bowl of berry aqutak. There are also chairs dotted throughout the room in a sort of vague circle --- close enough together that if people want to talk, they can, but far enough apart that it'd be easy to drag it off for some privacy.]
Maybe he just... needs a day. Tomorrow will probably be fine. For now, though, Misa volunteered to make brownies, and he was going to make a Northern Water Tribe comfort food specialty.
...even if they only had shortening and not actual animal fat and it'd been a while since he'd made it, but it tasted... alright? Definitely not as good as the stuff back home, but it was hard to get that good, anyway.
...there's also the matter of setting things up in a location other than the dining hall, because even though that's cleaned up, it still feels pretty tasteless to hold a wake literal feet from the place you found someone's bloody corpse.
So, a little later on in the day, a lovingly personalized note will be slid under everyone's doors:
And if the Survivors choose to head to the library, they'll find a... well, okay, it's a bunch of boxes from the storage room of comparable size stacked up on each other to kind of resemble a table. The dining hall ones don't even seem like they'd fit in the library, so Team Afterparty clearly had to improvise. One side is filled with plates, bowls, and spoons, and the other is filled with brownies, cookies, and a big bowl of berry aqutak. There are also chairs dotted throughout the room in a sort of vague circle --- close enough together that if people want to talk, they can, but far enough apart that it'd be easy to drag it off for some privacy.]
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[Passionless shrug]
I had never realized how much pressure there was on all of us. This is all much worse than I had expected.
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I did suspect it would end in the culprit's death, but I didn't think it would be so brutal.
[Yeah, that was not a nice thing to see]
I'm way too used to seeing criminals being taken away by police and merely being locked away. Death sentences are not common in my city.
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[Though Cherryblod didn't even flinch.]
And it's not a detective's job to oversee execution.
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[A short pause]
It is also even more terrifying to know there's a chance somebody I esteem here in the Vault could be in that same position, if they make the mistake of murdering anybody. It is bad enough to pin them as culprits, I know that by experience myself. To know they would die right in front of me is depressing.
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You seem to be faring better than most. After living five hundred years does this all not faze you? Is that it?
[Genuine curiosity, that is what is in Mouri's voice under the dullness that is overtaking it right now]
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There was a civil war, where I live, about a century and a half ago. I fought in it.
I saw a lot of people I'd grown to care about die then. Some in worse ways than that.
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[Yeah, he is not sure what to reply to that]
I would have never guessed you fought in a civil war.
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