WEEK 8

[al2955]

the pygmalion. . . ONLINE CAPTAIN'S LOG: WEEK (8)

monday - thursday (23) survivors Sunday's trial was only mere hours ago, but you find yourself faced with a new week on The Pygmalion. When you awaken, you will find the ship restored to its previous state, all areas interfered with during the murder looking mostly the same as they did before. Along with this, it appears there are new areas opened on the ship. It seems you have more exploring to do. The robot in the cafeteria has prepared another breakfast of various foods. (OOC: Please submit your murder proposals by 9 PM EST Tuesday.) taken list profiles private conversations setting rulebook murder proposals ENTER COMMAND_

Comments

[douchemag]

Peaches are fruit, they're healthy enough! [But yes please encourage him to eat his veggies, because he's had servants cook for him his whole life and his idea of a healthy diet on his own is just 'fruit I guess so I don't have to cook'.]

Magicians or illusionists? They're totally different things. [He points his staff towards the opening of the box as proof, sending a small sheet of ice flying into the air. It shatters into a smaller cluster of prisms and hovers there, circling the stars.

He falls unusually silent for a moment, watching the starlight refract and sparkle in the ice. It's a pretty dream, he thinks distantly, but no more real than the "dream house" they're sitting in now. Even if he makes it back home, and the possibility seems further and further away each day, he still has a coup to plan and revenge to enact. And afterwards...well, he knows Hakuryuu enough to know that he likely won't be satisfied with just that. Not to mention as arrogant as he sounds bragging about how he'd never rely on Alice's power, a spell that can somehow transport someone between worlds? Even if it was theoretically possible, it would take an absolute godlike amount of power.

It's something that he'd normally mock her over, and the familiar cruelty is on the tip of his tongue. He's never liked wasting time on hope, and certainly not a false hope at that. Reality's already horrible enough after all, why bother making things worse for yourself by dreaming of things that can never be? And yet...here they are in the middle of space, two people who by the laws of reality should have never been able to meet at all, Solomon knows how far from their homes, all so they can be part of some game of death that doesn't even make sense. And they're sitting in a giant cardboard box pretending it's a house. The absurdity of the situation hits him abruptly, almost getting him to laugh.

It's pretend, that's all it is. But he's never played pretend when he was a kid. Maybe he can make up for it now, at least just for a night.]

That depends entirely on how tasty you make them. I'm not making any promises!