Eighth.

[trustfellowship]

The week has passed slowly; it's been quiet, in a way that things around here usually are not, and at a third of your original number it isn't difficult to see why. Morale has suffered along with your population; maybe everything really is futile around here. However, there have been some...unusual goings-on lately. Signs. Sounds. It's difficult to say exactly where things are headed from here. Hopefully not straight to hell, anyway. Friday morning dawns like the rest of the week before it – those bursts of static fire off at seven, the doors to the kitchen unlock, and a heavy silence has settled over the building. The areas near the dorms also seem to be mercifully free of blood or other things indicating that there was some sort of incident, something that's sure to be at least some source of relief for most. However, that doesn't mean that nothing happened; checking the hallways will indicate that the night did not pass easily for everyone. Explore?

Comments

[trustfellowship]

[It looks like there may be something...unhappy in the chapel.]

[arebetter]

[ WELL, REGRETTABLY, THIS IS WHERE SHE JUST SAID SHE'D GO, AND SHE'S RUNNING THERE, SO...... what's the damage, doc(s)? ]

[cthulwho]

[...yeah, it's kind of hard to not notice that as he starts walking down the hall to meet up with them. So he'll be heading in with Pizzazz to see what's going on.]

[trustfellowship]

[It looks like an absolute mess in here - several of the pews have been moved and are in disarray, and it looks like this is where the blood is.

And toward the front of the room...well, there's something that looks like a person lying there, though they're surrounded by...something both large and dark.]

[arebetter]

[ What... kind of large and dark are we talking here, as she gets closer? Tarp? Scorch marks? Dragon? Puddle of ink? ]

[trustfellowship]

[Wings.

Four of them, huge and splayed-out on the ground; they're black-feathered, but the insides seem almost iridescent. The person is lying back on them, implying that they probably emerged at some point before death - surely the force of it would have turned him over otherwise, given the size of them - and as such, his face is clearly visible despite the feathers and the strange, dusky residue around them on the floor, almost like ash.

His dark hair is swept back out of his eyes still, long yellow scarf still tied around his neck; he isn't breathing, and there are no other signs of life - nor does he stir or seem to be aware of anyone approaching him, either.

The conclusion is unfortunate, but clear.

Ryoji Mochizuki is dead.]

[ossifragant]

No!

[cthulwho]

[Lovecraft goes still once he gets close enough to tell what's going on.]

Ryoji...

[This is.

This is terrible, for so many reasons.]

[arebetter]

[ AHA...HAHA......HAHAHA..........

Well she is just going to. Stagger back a little, here. There's no color to drain from her face, Pizzazz is always paper-white, but her hands do quickly snap to fists at her sides. She swallows.

Guess she's just gotta fail a few more people she cares about while she's here, huh? ]

I... I....

[ Her hands relax. She doesn't have fight in her at this point. She has to save that. For now she's going to just kind of. Wipe at her eyes a little. ]

[journalname]

...Ryoji...

[And the last kind soul is gone.

Asgore hangs back for several minutes, breathing heavily. The Transmitter...he has to call the Transmitter. But he remembers the first few days after Toriel left, and he stays his hand. She may or may not want to talk right now, especially when their time is so limited.

But before he goes, Asgore steps forward to kneel beside the body and sweep up some of that ash. It's not quite the same, but this is something he understands.]

[ossifragant]

[Well this is about to be terrible.]