AL-2955 (
al2955) wrote in
cradleproject2016-07-25 01:26 pm
WEEK 8
| 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_ |



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Glad you're enjoying yourself. [Even if everything else is horrible, at least there's still Judar's improved taste.]
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There's so little on this fucking ship that's fun, might as well enjoy whatever entertainment there is. [What should be an optimistic statement somehow sounds haughty and spoiled coming from his mouth....] You gonna join in or what?
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But she pauses, looking from the lightning to Judar and away again.]
I was here to mope. [as established, and he's making it difficult!!! but that's not a no and the thoughtful look she had before she answered hasn't gone anywhere.]
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You can mope anywhere. Come on! [He catches her look at the lightning and grins - his magic might be seriously limited here, but he knows exactly how to add to this light show without casting a single spell. A brief thought and suddenly a cluster of butterflies made of black and white light start swirling above them and around the room before he holds his hand out to her.]
Let's have some fun! If you mope too much, you're gonna get stress wrinkles.
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But the lightning had her attention already and the butterflies make her jump, but if anything's about to distract her from wallowing, it's shiny things.]
Oh, no. Stress wrinkles. [In the flattest voice possible—but her sarcasm doesn't hold up against the utterly entranced look she's still watching the butterflies with, even as she takes his hand and hauls herself out of the ballpit.]