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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[there's something to be said for the strong, silent type, they do tend to fare better when ignoring taunts. Given that he's never seen this place before, not to mention the lovely presentation beforehand, Law has already logicked out the conclusion that this is all an illusion or someone's Devil Fruit trying to mess with him, and thus, he's getting through just fine. He's investigating with zero fucks given for the portraits' attempts at morphing into various figures from his life, and all things considered he's doing fabulous around the Doflamingo one, which happens to be stationed at a junction of hallways where it can repeatedly harp on his failures every time Law backtracks and tries a new path. In fact, one might witness him give that particular portrait a very hearty middle finger as he passes.
It doesn't last forever, though. At one point he can be seen leaning on the wall next to a portrait that somewhat resembles the previous one, but not entirely - and some who've been in Cerealia a long time might recognize that fellow. He's not asking questions, though, he's just as silent as the tall, dark figure leaning next to his image. Law seems completely oblivious to the hand reaching out from the portrait, stretching toward his shoulder, ready to grab him and pull him in....]
III
[Whoever you are, you must be enjoying the stairs, certainly! Mazes are fun, right? And then, all of a sudden, this guy appears out of thin air next to you. Hopefully he didn't accidentally swap himself with some item belonging to you, good luck finding it.
Law looks startled for only half a second, and then really pissed.]
How the hell did I end up back here? Oi. [you, person] What floor is this?
[Whether he gets a satisfactory answer or not, he's going to try again. He makes a small gesture with his left hand.]
Room. [and then!] Shambles.
[He's disappeared from beside you, but he's now at the top of the set of stairs you were climbing. Only Shambles'd himself about ten feet, and now there's a floor rug where he was standing next to you.]
DAMMIT!
III
She resumes her stroll up the stairs, passing him by at an easy pace. ]
Not having fun, huh?
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I had enough of these moving stairwells and tried to move myself out of them onto the main floor. It doesn't appear to work any better than simply walking does.
[one of the portraits at hand on the nearby wall offers its oh-so-helpful advice yet again, which Law receives with another glare]
They really think I'm going to just talk about myself?
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It's supposed to be a haunted house. Of course it's not easy to get out of. [ She looks at him, then the painting, then back in front of her to another portrait of an oddly bandaged child. A sight she's seen a thousand times before, but compared to some things she's hallucinated before, these portraits are weak in the oogie-boogie department. Though that's not to say she hasn't torn up a few of them for saying some rather despicable things. Like this one, which is getting thrown off the wall by...something and snapped in half. ] I say ignore them.
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That won't be difficult.
[haunted house, eh? Weak is right. Though, as another portrait morphs into a small girl with gentle features who pleads with him to confess his bad deeds, it clearly takes a little more effort to steel himself not to even look at it.]
I don't suppose you have any better ideas for getting out? I don't plan to sit on these stairs and pout about it until I die.
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[ More like hovering, really, since her vectors can't really let her fly so much as they just fling her through the air. Though, it got tiring the first time she tried, but at least it gained her some distance at first! Not a lot considering how the stairs seem to go on and on and on, but it beats walking. ]
I could blow a hole in the wall if it takes too long. But who knows where that'll lead.
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[ As she asks, she stops on a landing a ways up and holds her hand on the wall. Her vectors should be able to go through it, but without knowing what's on the other side or how thick the wall is, she can't exactly tell if she'll open up a hole to the outside or a black abyss. Knowing what's surely caused this, she's sure it'd be the latter. Just because. ]
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[he's curious to see what she can do, because any claim to be able to bust holes in walls is worth investigating. Meanwhile, Law has a look around this landing, studiously ignoring the portraits demanding gossip and stretching out with his haki. It tells him absolutely nothing. What's with this place?]
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Stairs.
More stairs. Because of course. ]
Huh...
[ Definitely not what she expected, but if it looks like a way out, why not? At least there's a door at the top of these ones, but who knows where it'll lead. ]
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Come on!
[except that he's no more than two steps up when he can hear the groan of wood beginning to sway. Oh no. No, not again. Bracing himself, he grits his teeth and makes his decision; there are some things he doesn't care if strangers know.]
I don't like bread!
[the shuddering of the stairs ceases for a moment. Law isn't entirely sure that's going to hold them off for long, given that there is much juicier gossip in his backstory...]
Damn this place. [but he does have to add:] Nice work. Interesting power you've got there.
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It comes in handy... [ She doesn't have it in her to emphasize "handy" to make that pun even stronger. Nope. Can't do it. Instead, she runs up the stairs as well, though she has to hover over them a moment with her powers when they start to sway. ] They're especially good at turning the room into a blender.
[ A blender set on puree, no less. ]
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Let's try and keep the room in one piece as long as possible. I'm not really interested in being shredded today.
[then again he could use Mes to deliberately chop them up, first, then it might not matter? It would be creepy, though.
He takes the stairs one step at a time, eyeing them darkly as if to dare them to start to move again. They wobble a little, but his stupid bread comment is holding for now.]
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II
Please be careful.
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So even if he doesn't bother to say thanks and bats the hand away, his irritation ebbs and he stops to stare at the painting instead.]
What is...what are you doing, Cora-san?
[he can't help but address the portrait rather than his rescuer]
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I'm afraid that's not your Cora-san.
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He watches as the hand retreats into the painting and the image warps from Corazon's blond face to a complete stranger, who or whatever the portrait was originally about. Seems it lost its catch. Law is still prickly but he calms down quickly, edging back over by Sai.]
Apparently they're not content with just interrogating us as we walk by. [playing it down, playing it cool] I'm sorry you had to see that.
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They don't care about your secrets. [ He keeps up the facade, remembering to use all 17 muscles to keep the smile in place.] It's only a tactic to let down your guard.
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So I see. They tried to get under my skin one way, and when that didn't work, tried something else.
[no amount of Doflamingo taunting him about blood on his hands was going to bother him, not anymore. So instead, they went for someone he cared about. Bastards. Law takes a breath and lets it out slowly, bringing himself back under control.]
What do you know about this place, then?
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They want your body.
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...is that supposed to be some kind of innuendo?
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You don't have to worry. Cora-san doesn't want your dick. He wants your place on this side.
[ /nailed it ]
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Law recoils, completely and utterly thrown. Goodbye super-cool composure, hello flailing.]
I didn't...! That wasn't...! Don't even say something like that!
[missing, of course, the correct part of the assessment, the real reason to stay a healthy distance from the portraits. Give him a minute, he'll get there eventually.]
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You should be safe so long as you don't let that hand touch you.
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Noted.
[right about now he's silently thankful that he's not dealing with Straw Hat on top of this guy. This...weird guy with the pasted-on smile. He's seen creepy but man, this guy takes the cake.]
I'm starting to think that leaving this house is a better idea than exploring.
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