The Mods Grimm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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grimmoired2018-07-28 08:34 am
themodsgrimm) wrote in grimmoired2018-07-28 08:34 am
CHAPTER SEVEN ; TRIAL
CHAPTER 7 - WEEK 7 Wakey wakey, naughty murder children. It's a lovely Saturday, after all. Breakfast is served piping hot at its usual time and all of the evidence has been removed from the scenes of yesterday. No matter how you choose to spent your morning though, the clock will begin to chime the moment both hands reach the large, ornate twelve. Before your eyes materializes a door...but not just any door. Unlike the door leading to the festival, this door sits primly and properly right in front of the foyer. Whether you exit the castle on your own or you feel a friendly, invisible push, you begin to walk under an arc of wisterias. Behind you, the clock continues to chime with every step you take. By the time the time the clock strikes twelve, you've entered a beautiful garden. In front of you is a long table, 19 seats on each side. Around the garden are several glass cases containing evidence collected yesterday. As noon intensifies on the sun-shaped clock, you'll find Dragon at the head of the table, a glass-covered rose near her right hand. Tick tock, Narrators. You have nine hours to deliberate. The garden is strangely silent and there are no snacks today...it seems as though you'll be left to your own devices.  Welcome to your trial post! Please see here for the OOC summary of events from yesterday's investigation. In addition, please be sure to vote! Please see the voting page on how to vote, as we will have two special things to vote for. Voting will close at 9pm EST/6pm PST or sooner if the game ICly elects so. If you have any questions, please ask on our Discord server or ping us on plurk. Please direct pings for the NPC to Dana (
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Honestly, this is easier to accept than his looming death from illness. At least this way, he can die knowing he actually contributed to something bigger than himself and helped those he'd come to care for. With that smile still in place, he lurches forward easily when pushed, no resistance at all. No resistance as he's pulled down with the sand toward the pit's center, where it folds in on itself, taking everything below the ground.
And being pulled below, crushed and suffocated in such a slow way, is disconcerting. It reminds him a little too much of the heaviness that weighed his lungs down until that morning and tugs at his survival instincts in a way that he has to work to resist. But even as it gets harder to breathe, and as the sand creeps up past his waist, chest, chin - gets to the point where he can't clear his mouth or nose - he's still remarkably serene. It takes a bit, but soon he's been pulled under entirely, and the shifting sands leave not a trace of a person behind.
This is the path he'd chosen to walk. He'll walk it until the very end.
Okita Souji is dead.]