Week 3.

[trustfellowship]

WEEK 3 Grace and Doug are dead. It seems that there isn't anything more to do but mourn your losses and try to move forward. The Transmitter's rules still hang in every room, a reminder of the only means of escaping this place. But surely no one else will give into them, right? Saturday is given to regrouping and rest; the static blares out early on Sunday, but at least there are no bodies to find today - it seems you're safe for now. The night before wasn't necessarily a peaceful one, however; you'll probably feel a bit groggy when you wake up, and it seems you've regained something that you didn't realize you'd lost... Once again, however, it seems your efforts won't go unrewarded; another set of corridors have opened up, much in the same fashion as the other new area did last week. With them come new rooms to explore; maybe some of them will be to your liking. Or perhaps it's better to say that hopefully some of them will; after all, if the Transmitter gets her way, you may be here for a very, very long time. PATIENTS REMAINING: 26

SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY
[OOC: Welcome to week three of Trustfell! Feel free to make as many top levels as you'd like and tag out to other characters! This post is for all of your interactions this week... at least until the weekend. Don't forget to save those threads for coins and the activity check!

If you'd like to get in contact with the Transmitter, you can do so through text or the phone in your room!]

Comments

[journalname]

Of course.

[Asgore will lead the way there. He keeps his room neat; the bed is made, what few clothes he has that aren't on him now are put away, and he's obviously made an attempt to decorate with some of the more aesthetically pleasing items he got from the vending machine (two Blue Sephira statues, a bottle of star sand, and a hunk of pumice).

There's also a staff laying across the top of the trunk. We've all gotten one or two weapons out of there, right?]

Please, feel free to sit. [You've got the bed and the desk chair.]

[ossifragant]

[He'll take the desk chair, because the bed would be a little weird. He's quiet for a long moment, like he's gathering his thoughts before he looks up at Asgore.]

"Greed is in love with the woman who murdered him."

That's what the note said.

[journalname]

[Asgore will take a seat on the edge of the bed, then, because he towers above Greed enough without standing while he sits, and towering is not conducive to this kind of conversation.

And...it does not seem like that is anything near what he expected.]

...oh. [Give him a second.] But...how is that possible? You are not dead.

[ossifragant]

Homunculi are born from attempts to raise the dead. That's how.

[journalname]

...I see.

[He does not, plainly.]

And you - are not the same as the one who died?

[ossifragant]

No. I wear his face, but I'm not him.

[journalname]

I see.

[That makes more sense to him. It makes him question the phrasing of the secret a little, but that's neither here nor there.]

All the same, I am sorry that it is that way. That must place a great number of expectations on you.

[ossifragant]

Not at all, actually. I don't really remember a whole lot about the guy-- memories here and there. It's.... complicated.

[journalname]

Mmmmm.

And the woman who killed him?

[ossifragant]

She's the one who gathers the homunculi together, gives us names.

She doesn't do it out of the goodness of her heart; she's a selfish woman who uses those she gathers.

[journalname]

And yet, you love her.

[Half-question, half-statement. The secrets do all seem to be truths, after all.]

[ossifragant]

[He doesn't answer.

Which is answer enough, honestly.]

[journalname]

[Hmmmm. It feels unnatural to sit way over here and have this conversation, actually. Asgore stands and goes to place a big paw on Greed's shoulder.]

We do not always choose who it is that we love. And it can be a beautiful thing - but it does not mean that the one you love should cause you pain. You deserve to be treated well.

[ossifragant]

[He manages a tight smile, though he doesn't look up at Asgore, instead looking away.]

I.... know, to an extent. She's not here, and most certainly isn't aware of other world.

[journalname]

Perhaps a clean break will make it easier? You can go anywhere you l, after this.

[ossifragant]

You're right.

We'll get out of here, somehow, and I'd be free.

[He doesn't sound entirely convinced, though.]