Third.

[trustharder]

There's tension in the air come Friday morning; the time limit posed by the Kingmaker isn't quite up yet, but as the deadline draws closer, the more anxious several Survivors have been about it. The first floor seems largely fine today; at the very least, there are no signs of a scuffle or a body lying around. It might be good to make sure that the upper floors have fared so well. After all, Fridays haven't had the best track record around here. >Explore?

Comments

[cherryblooded]

I know that.

...I'll get someone. You can take her down, that's probably fine...

[prismbloom]

[ She makes sure to memorize every detail, or at least she tries. Her throat is tight, and she drags over a step stool to very carefully take down Mion's body. Aqua does it quietly, carrying Mion down like a princess before laying her gently on the floor.

She hates it, but she keeps the rope around Mion's neck--just in case. ]

[cherryblooded]

[And he's off to locate a professional somewhere in the vault.

It's helpful and it means he doesn't have to look at her body any longer.]

[amygdalae]

[Last night was... well.

Sleep was hard to come by last night, that's for sure.

Bruce is tired as hell, feels like crap and honestly he doesn't quite feel like coming out from his room but he does so anyway.

Once he steps out, though, something instantly feels off. The usual energy of the place isn't around, and there's a dread that sets into him that feels far too familiar and wrong. He doesn't want to think what might have happened, but...

Hopefully he's just imagining it all.

Hopefully.]

[cherryblooded]

Bruce.

[He really doesn't want to harass Bruce when he's looking so ragged, but he has to.]

Could you head to the art storage room? There's a... crime scene.

[It feels a little easier to say than 'dead body' even if it means the same thing.]

[amygdalae]

[From the way that Cherryblod says his name, the dread in his stomach only intensifies further.

What he says next only confirms it.]

Crime-- [Crime scene. Murder. Somebody was dead.

Somebody was dead.

It's not the first time nor the second, but this hits even harder than the rest. A series of emotions passes through Bruce - shock, sadness, and for a brief moment, anger - anger that he quickly shoves back down even as it boils at the back of his mind.]

...I see. [His voice is quiet now, almost too quiet, nearly devoid of all emotion.] I'll head there at once.

[cherryblooded]

Thank you. I'm sorry to have to rely on you like this.

[God knows he'd rather not dump most of the burden of investigation on a small handful of people.]

[amygdalae]

It's fine.

[His response is brusque, almost too formal - like Bruce is trying to cut himself off from all emotion.]

Let everyone else know what happened. We'll get to the bottom of this.

[He has to.]