The clock strikes twelve. The gong of the grandfather clock in the foyer tolls out the time in slightly unnecessarily obnoxious loud noises. The ambiance of this old mansion demands respect, care, awe --
Okay, no, wait, why are you even in this stupid dusty house?
No reasons are forthcoming, because everyone knows that people just end up in places like this sometimes. That's just how the narrative device works. The hows and the whys don't matter -- all that matters is that you're all here, so you'd better get cracking and start exploring, because it's not like you can leave yet.
Or ever, maybe.
 Good day, sirs and madams. Might I interest you in a nice glass of blood...y mary?
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PHASE I [ 02 15 ] All you see is white. The crash of thunder hits your ears next, punctuated by the piercing pitch of white noise in the background. After a few blinks, your vision comes back to you. Oh good, glad that you’ve joined us in the land of the living. Unlike the nondescript corpse at your feet – it looks like… a butler? Oh dear. You’ve already killed Murder Suspect Number One in most situations. How terribly ironic.
After all, who could’ve killed him but you? You might not remember, but there is definitely a murder weapon in your hand. It’s probably a knife or a poisoned glass of wine or-
Wait, is that a toaster? A full on toaster? Or maybe it’s a taser. Maybe you bludgeoned this poor guy with an entire encyclopedia. Either way, it looks like your murder weapon is a little unconventional, whether it’s a stranger’s pair of underwear or a hair curler. Are you really supposed to believe you committed a murder with these? (Yes.)
That said in the next second the double doors will be opening up. It’s pretty clear you’re not alone. Think quick!
PHASE II [ 0600 ] Exploring more around the compound, you’ll find plenty of those tall, oil portraits of people hung around the walls. When you start walking, they’re all strangers. However by the time that you feel like you’re wandering around for an hour, two hours, they might start looking a little bit more… familiar? Mom? Is that you?
You don’t have time to think about that, though. You were clearly framed! You don't’ have a motive for killing some random NPC –
“Or do you?” a portrait will ask.
Oh. Holy shit. Well it’d just be rude to leave, right? Whether you stick around for conversation or not, you’ll find that was just the beginning. The portraits are going to start grilling you. Welcome to CERES Central’s Roast of You. What was your motive? Don’t you know you should respect the servants? How would you feel if you were caught like that? Careful turning your back on them though, because if you ignore them for too long, the subjects in the portraits may just reach out and snatch you to join them in their portrait world.
At that point, the only way to get out is to swap places with some other poor, unsuspecting soul wandering around.
PHASE III [ 1045 ] You know what makes me hungry? Murder.
What’s the point of making a mansion this big anyway? Who’s even here? Either way, whether you’re looking for the kitchen to make a fine post-homicide sandwich or just trying to escape, you’ll eventually make it to a stairwell. The most finicky stairwell ever. Is that a trail of bloody footprints leading up the steps? What? No. Stop it, just climb.
Or well – don’t climb too quickly now. The staircases apparently have a mind of their own, swapping from one doorway to another. You definitely haven’t seen this before. It would seem that these stairs might even be interested in keeping you in a circle forever, no concern for whether or not you’re hungry or, god forbid, need to use the restroom.
However the portraits in the stairwell will provide a little tip: “The stairs are gossips, you know. Why don’t you tell us a little something about yourself? Make it good!”
Weirdly enough, sound advice – that is, if you’re interested in shouting out your most embarrassing secrets into the void so a mansion can keep talking shit about you. Oh well. Your alternative is just being a stair golem. There are worse fates.
PHASE IV [ 1430 ] This hall is oddly quiet.
Well, until you hear it – the soft sniffles coming from down the hall, the broken sobs. It sounds like someone’s crying. For one reason or another, your footsteps take you forward – there’s really no point in going back now after all, right? Yet as you continue to walk… walk… walk… the crying becomes louder and louder. More desperate, more despaired. In time, it’s clear that this person is wailing, screaming, “How could this happen?!”
Within the span of a breath, all the lights in the hallway go out, leaving you in pitch black.
It occurs to you then that you hear a second set of steps. When did you stop walking? A cold chill runs down your spine and you find yourself running then, despite the fact that it feels like this pitch black hallway goes on forever. The other footsteps pick up, remind you that you’re not alone. No, certainly not.
Best hope that you find some assistance soon – otherwise it looks like the Butler Association is going to ignite some righteous vigilante justice on your ass.
BONUS [ why o'clock ] You’re in the grand ballroom now, ready to present your case. Armed with a cob pipe (don’t smoke inside, it’s rude), a detective hat, and a single spotlight aimed right at you, you now have to explain how you came to the conclusion about the True Killer that is Obviously Not You. Rather, it’ll just be the character of whoever tags into this prompt – yes, you are suddenly so very sure that they’re the ones who are the ultimate mastermind of this entire game and… you’re just going to have to bullshit the reason why even if you know virtually nothing about them. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, you know?
Sorry about that.
Should you actually provide enough of a compelling case or they take pity on you, having a villainous breakdown for the sake of the plot, you’ll be awarded with a coupon that’ll give you three free scoops at your local ice cream parlor! (Note: you must buy the first two scoops in order to qualify.) Of course, if you’re not able to nail them down as the killer, you are obviously the killer yourself (citation needed).
From there, you’ll be dragged off to face your punishment: for six grueling hours you will be tickled mercilessly.
[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ] |
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but instead, for his powerful ability to grill mochi and throw down right
Or it might not have, but not trying hadn't been safer. Right? If she'd been the sort to justify poorly conceived of actions to an unseen audience, she might have pointed out that hitting the rotten wood had slowed down their ultimate descent to the ground.
Since she didn't think that way, what flashed through her mind was along the lines of we're still breathing and we made it and that was a bad idea, all tangled up in a concern for not only herself, but Tachikawa-san.
She tries to respond, but the dust and sawdust disturbed by the collapse of the rickety stairs prevented her from doing more than coughing once she could pull air into her lungs. The impact itself, softened as it was by another living body (so to speak), had left her wide eyed and breathless. Now she was watery eyed and squirming, aiming to get off her inadvertent protector to see if he was okay.
Talking was good. It was not talking that was more worrisome, something she's still attempting to do when she rolls off to find the ground and claps a hand over her mouth, still coughing. When sucking in a wheezing gasp of air simply makes her eyes water again, she elects to use her other hand to give him a thumbs up and hopes he'll understand what she means. It's only after her coughing fit dies down that she can swallow and manage speaking in any sensible manner. ]
I'm fine, Tachikawa-san, but are you okay? I'm sorry! I thought those stairs were sturdier than they were.
[ Far, far above them, quite difficult to make out, a singular portrait held up a score card to make Kei's heart flutter. "10/10 for Falling in Style." There's even a small heart drawn in next to it.
Meanwhile, down on the splinter, dust, sawdust, and plank ridden floor, very few provided stairwells deigned to touch down on their level. The one they'd crashed down through was wobbling in place, making it seem like a better idea to get out from under its wobbling, broken mass than see if it would truly all come falling down, or if even in pieces it would persevere in its floating, shifting paradigm.
To their left, or Kei's left and Chihiro's right, one set of stairs has taken to a low sweep ending in a muffled thud as it settles down for the moment. It's a set of smooth stone stairs, leading up to a landing with no visible door. A closer portrait was adjusting its glasses as it peered out at them and clucked its tongue. "No one has respect for woodcrafting these days," it said, only to be met with a shoe flying over and smacking its lower frame, the culprit a painting on a facing wall in the corner.
"Shut up! Shut up! Like you've ever appreciated woodcrafting a day in your life!"
Quite terribly offended, the portrait figure crossed their arms over their chest and turned away from the room at large, showing the back of their head as they muttered something about "portrait figures these days." ]
I think we need to get moving again, Tachikawa-san. [ A nervous glance upward, and then she's straightening her shoulders and getting to her feet. Pulling her shirt down and dusting off her front, she holds out a hand to Kei. She, uh. May not actually be able to pull him up to his feet without throwing the whole of her weight backward if he accepts this particular idea, but by golly, she'll try to make it work. (And probably end up on her rear.) ] Can you stand?
grilling mochi is his defining character trait ehehe
there's not much he can do to help a little girl who's choking on sawdust, though, especially since he didn't exactly get stellar grades on his cpr -- but at some point he does sit up and gingerly attempt to pat the little girl on the back. like, buck up, small child, eating a little dust hasn't killed anyone, right? right??? oh god, is she crying? those are tears, right? oh god, what is he supposed to do with a crying little girl, they didn't cover this in field training?? the look of horror must've been extremely apparent on his face, because the little girl now looks very, very worried, and that in turn makes him very, very worried in a way that a twenty-year-old man shouldn't be. he does attempt to open his mouth and find some kind of a placative, trying to channel some of their more... well, less him operatives, but at least he's saved from having to do that when the little girl flashes him the universal gesture for 'yep, i'm most certainly not choking on sawdust, but thank you very much for worrying', which in turn means that kei's completely out of the doghouse, phew.
he'd say something about the little girl's worry, actually. something about how he's not really in a flesh-and-blood body, so no worries, unless he's like re-entering the earth's atmosphere from a free fall or something he should be okay -- probably -- but that lack of attention span strikes again when!! when!!!! a flash of a score card from up above the rickety heavens steals his heart away.
the ensuing, ] Hell yeah...! [ followed by a mini-fist pump pretty much defines kei's character, really, like if i had to app him to a game, that'd be his entire personality section right there. full score! that's more like it! it may bear noting that kei is the type of person who'd feel pleased if he got a full score in just about anything, from having the best stubble to being the biggest chuuni, man, it doesn't matter what it is as long as he's the best.
(of the two in this thread, between the twenty-year-old man or the little girl, the little girl's probably the more mature one lbr) ]
-- ah, right. Yeah, gotta keep going and all that. You know, that was really gutsy of you, [ is what he says as he, after glancing with bemusement at the little girl's outstretched hands, reaches out with his own gloved one and allows her to 'pull' him up, and, uh, tug at her too so that she doesn't end up on her ass. ] Chihiro-chan.
[ and also those two portraits are so married. kei dusts himself off meticulously, despite not really needing to, and with wood crunching underneath his boots, he gently tugs the little girl after him. uh. to some direction. that direction. at least out from underneath that staircase, because he sure doesn't want another plank of wood spat at his face... conversationally: ] So you sure you didn't escape from the circus?
[ lame joke but eh... oh that stone staircase looks good. ]
this trait has left me hungry all weekend for no good reason
Tachikawa-san appears to be recovered from his hunger-insanity (if that's what it was), and he's survived bearing the brunt of their fall. There's a degree of responsibility she continues to feel for that, but then he's fist-pumping and she has no idea what's going through his head once again.
Which is fine, she doesn't need to, they just need to keep moving. She can tell he's playing along with her having helped him up, but she doesn't mind, considering it wasn't her best thought offer, and he made it work out. That was more important in the approaching ten minute relationship they've had, so when he's tugging her toward the stone stairs, she follows along, taking an extra hopping step forward to match his stride. ]
Don't people usually run away to the circus?
[ At least someone in primary school made a claim like that before. The stone staircase stays in place, and stays whole, even as the married portraits kept up an argument in the background. It's yet another portrait hanging over where the stone landing of this staircase that talks to them directly; it appears to be a light chocolate coloured hunting dog wearing a tweed suit. The dog tips its head to the side, ears flopping over in a charming manner. One paw lifts up from the bottom portion of the frame to bring a corncob pipe to the dog's mouth. It blows into the pipe in an awkward fashion. Coloured bubbles froth forward, lazily floating up and out of the frame's confines. ]
"I say, good pups, are you planning on chasing tails all day long? The trick to pinning these stairs down is sharing what your hearts howl over on moonless nights."
[ Don't mind Chihiro's staring at this portrait in particular. It's, uh, not the oddest individual she's spoken with, but... ]
... I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand what you mean.
[ Looking sideways to Tachikawa to see if he, instead, has an idea. ??? ]