Take Responsibility.

[trustharder]

And after all has been said and done and all clues have been found, those large steel doors at the end of the hallway open up. The elevator both is and isn't a particularly nice one; it rides smoothly and quickly and it's obviously been kept-up, but there's nothing on the interior walls, lending a claustrophobic feeling to what's already a relatively small space, particularly with all of you in there. (Well. Almost all of you.) No distractions from what just happened, nothing to take your mind off of considering what might, just you and your fellow Survivors in an unadorned steel box. There's no visible panel for buttons, either; looks like it's pre-programmed; at least the ride is a relatively short one, though it's difficult to tell the distance traveled before the door opens again. You would be forgiven for your initial thought being that it opens into a void. It isn't complete darkness, but it's enough of a visual shift from the elevator that it probably takes your eyes some time to adjust; instead of the usual concrete and steel, the walls are a dark, heavy black, making the room look far smaller than it is. There aren't any corners to it, either; the room is tightly circular, complimenting the setup in the center of it. In the center of the room is a circle of podiums, twenty-seven in total, arranged so that everyone standing at them can see each other. So everyone can look each other in the eyes, if they so choose. The podiums are interlocked - there's no cutting across the center of the circle, and for good reason, it looks like there's a lot of nothing down there where the floor should be, just a massive black pit in the center - and each is bearing the title of the person who's assigned to stand at it. No names, just adjectives, emblazoned across two brass panels on the very top and the front of each podium. Affixed to the podium itself is a glass touchscreen panel; it's dark for now, but it'll probably be relevant later. At least the glass is shatterproof, in case things get heated. In general, though, all of the podiums are identical, except for the one intended for Zagi. The podium that should bear Adaptable's title has had a black cloth draped over it, and a copy of Zagi's profile photo is sitting on top of it, framed and colorless, an image in greyscale. It's hard to tell where the Kingmaker's voice comes from, when it does; it seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, like it's being piped in from someplace you can't see. But he's very definitely audible when he does speak. "Adaptable has been taken from you. Looks like the guilty among you is attempting to end the exercise by carrying out Rule Seven. It's up to you whether they're held responsible for their actions or not."

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? OUR TALES RIVAL JUST TURNED INTO A ZOMBIE!

[bloodisthicker]

[...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.]