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May mini-mini-event
05/31 16:00
The student council elections take place after class on Monday, with students instructed to gather in the auditorium for the assembly. Attendance is not mandatory, but once students enter the auditorium and take their seats with the rest of their homeroom, they will find that they are not able to speak or get up from their seats. There are no teachers present.
Fifteen minutes past the hour, the doors to the auditorium close and the assembly commences, with the current student body president Maya Arisu stepping up to the podium, obligatorily thanking everybody for coming, and briefly going over the agenda: the student council candidates, sitting in a neat row behind her at the back of the stage, are to first introduce themselves to the student body, after which the candidates will make a case for why they would best serve the student body. As each person comes up to the podium, a projector shines on the white screen behind the stage with an image of the student's profile, displaying their full name, homeroom, blood type, handedness, club membership and leadership roles, current grades, and current merit points. Those in the student council are held to high standards, be it scholastic achievement as exemplified by grades or club participation, or eloquence or bravado if they have nothing else going for them but talk big anyways, like the current candidate in the middle of a passionate speech concerning the atrocity that is Ishimaru's eyebrows, like, do you really want that to be the face of the student body--
The mic cuts off and Maya drops the end of the power cord before striding up to the center of the stage, staring at the candidate to get out of her way or risk a broken foot.
"I'm going to stop wasting your time," she says, voice quiet but at the same time clear and audible in the hush of the room. "The qualities I'm looking for in a member of our council isn't intelligence or diligence or kindness. Who the person is matters the most: what they do and how they think."
She turns around, facing the candidates, looking at each of them in turn. "We will be testing your character. Follow me."
One by one, the student council candidates rise to their feet and file out of the auditorium after Maya, stiff and robotic, almost as if they have no control over their bodies as she leads them out the door. The moment the last candidate leaves the auditorium, the spell binding everybody's limbs and voices breaks, students jumping to their feet to push and shove each other out of the way in their excitement to leave-- not to go home, but to crowd around the windows surrounding the courtyard, or to race each other to the higher floors to claim the windows with the best views:
Out in the courtyard, the student council candidates line up against the side of the school. Facing them, in a half circle in front of the wisteria tree, are several familiar faces, each with a dagger in hand, a stagger to their steps, yellow in their eyes, and wild animalistic abandon in the way they lunge at the student council candidates.
The sun is bright overhead. Blood spills and soaks into the ground. The school stays true and does not turn.
Fifteen minutes past the hour, the doors to the auditorium close and the assembly commences, with the current student body president Maya Arisu stepping up to the podium, obligatorily thanking everybody for coming, and briefly going over the agenda: the student council candidates, sitting in a neat row behind her at the back of the stage, are to first introduce themselves to the student body, after which the candidates will make a case for why they would best serve the student body. As each person comes up to the podium, a projector shines on the white screen behind the stage with an image of the student's profile, displaying their full name, homeroom, blood type, handedness, club membership and leadership roles, current grades, and current merit points. Those in the student council are held to high standards, be it scholastic achievement as exemplified by grades or club participation, or eloquence or bravado if they have nothing else going for them but talk big anyways, like the current candidate in the middle of a passionate speech concerning the atrocity that is Ishimaru's eyebrows, like, do you really want that to be the face of the student body--
The mic cuts off and Maya drops the end of the power cord before striding up to the center of the stage, staring at the candidate to get out of her way or risk a broken foot.
"I'm going to stop wasting your time," she says, voice quiet but at the same time clear and audible in the hush of the room. "The qualities I'm looking for in a member of our council isn't intelligence or diligence or kindness. Who the person is matters the most: what they do and how they think."
She turns around, facing the candidates, looking at each of them in turn. "We will be testing your character. Follow me."
One by one, the student council candidates rise to their feet and file out of the auditorium after Maya, stiff and robotic, almost as if they have no control over their bodies as she leads them out the door. The moment the last candidate leaves the auditorium, the spell binding everybody's limbs and voices breaks, students jumping to their feet to push and shove each other out of the way in their excitement to leave-- not to go home, but to crowd around the windows surrounding the courtyard, or to race each other to the higher floors to claim the windows with the best views:
Out in the courtyard, the student council candidates line up against the side of the school. Facing them, in a half circle in front of the wisteria tree, are several familiar faces, each with a dagger in hand, a stagger to their steps, yellow in their eyes, and wild animalistic abandon in the way they lunge at the student council candidates.
The sun is bright overhead. Blood spills and soaks into the ground. The school stays true and does not turn.
OOC
✽ Happy Execution Day! For those unfamiliar with how murdergame executions work, the initial top-level is reserved for Ishimaru and Madison to fight to the death, while the rest of the post is free for characters to post reactions as well as to play out the aftermath.
✽ As a general guideline, the dropped characters look the same as originally, aside from yellow eyes, and the way they move is haltingly, as if they're resisting the compulsion to murder. It is a compulsion, though! So if both Ishimaru and Madison refuse to fight each other, they'll just get stabbed by somebody else.
✽ The execution will end once there is only one person left, after which the door will allow them back inside the school. Before then, the doors and windows are locked, and trying to escape the courtyard will result in loss of consciousness, with enough warning to turn back. The moment there is one survivor left, the npc students go home, as the position is won by default. Congrats! Hope it was worth it.
✽ As a general guideline, the dropped characters look the same as originally, aside from yellow eyes, and the way they move is haltingly, as if they're resisting the compulsion to murder. It is a compulsion, though! So if both Ishimaru and Madison refuse to fight each other, they'll just get stabbed by somebody else.
✽ The execution will end once there is only one person left, after which the door will allow them back inside the school. Before then, the doors and windows are locked, and trying to escape the courtyard will result in loss of consciousness, with enough warning to turn back. The moment there is one survivor left, the npc students go home, as the position is won by default. Congrats! Hope it was worth it.
no subject
as a clown) to not even get a hint of a smile. To just have Shuichi give up and look away...Kokichi frowns just slightly when he spots where Shuichi's attention has landed instead. Damn, and he was at least managing alright at the distraction thing. He's about to open his mouth again – anything will do really, it's even okay if Shuichi gets mad at him as long as his attention is directed Kokichi's way instead – but Shuichi beats him to the punch.
Hmm.]
...'Kay. Don't keep me waiting too long, though.
[He just shrugs with an air of apparent boredom, the tension seeping away as Shuichi stands. Kokichi remains where he is. He's just tired, that's all. He doesn't need to get up.
(He decides he'll give it a fee minutes at most. If Shuichi doesn't return in that time, he'll follow.)]
no subject
Anyway, it doesn't take Shuichi all that long -- he's not going far, after all. Just around the corner from where they were, though there might be traces of a dispersing crowd to still bypass here and there, or a queue to wait in given what time it is and that no one's in class at this point. The break from their conversation... is welcome too, if he has to admit it. Which is a little hypocritical when he's the one who had started it, but that doesn't make it less true.
And yet... it's possible to experience a contrary feeling like relief anyway, when he still sees the other there upon return. ]
...Here. You don't have to take it, but... I did give you time to make scarce if you wanted.
[ And Ouma didn't use it. That has to mean something, right?
There are a lot of things that Shuichi can think to do with the object now in his hand -- he could press it to Kokichi's forehead in petty revenge for earlier, or just toss it... the other would probably catch it just fine. But he doesn't, and offers it simply from his own hand. It's a can of soft drink from the vending machine, leaving little to guess about the flavor if even just from the vivid purple it's painted in.
Here's your gift, Kokichi, can this be a proper free time event now. ]
no subject
Ehh? Why would I ditch my beloved detective like tha–
[He pauses as he's – unexpectedly – offered a gift.
Given how that conversation was going, he almost thought maybe Shuichi was just making an excuse to ditch him. But nah, he reaches up to take the offered drink and then there's a cold can in his hand. It's even a very familiar one by now after he's gotten it for himself plenty of times by now.
He shouldn't be surprised about the Ultimate Detective of all people taking note of that. And yet he's still stupidly warmed by it. Kokichi's expression brightens, a grin stretching across his face.]
Gross, who drinks this crap? I hate sugary stuff.
[And yet he's pulling the tab with a soft hiss of carbonation. Present successful, free time event triggered.]
no subject
He doesn't say it, but it reads on his face. Maybe it's not the smile Kokichi wanted, sorry he's just not in the mood for that and all, but it's still a more peaceful, less bothered expression than what Shuichi's shown so far through their previous exchange. While he sits back down, taking the same previous spot that he'd occupied at first, he takes the moment to contemplate how he doesn't even question most of what the other says anymore. Or perhaps... "doesn't question it" isn't quite right, but he's sure gotten used to all this.
Even if there's still a trace of exasperation in how he side-eyes Kokichi, or what he chooses to say. ]
If you won't talk to me... there isn't much else I could think of, you know?
[ Than to get him something he figured might cheer him up, is what he means. Now can we stop questioning what his intentions were? ]
no subject
I guess I can accept even garbage like this as due tribute.
[He could specify that he's lying, but is there really any need? He's contentedly sipping at the drink already. If Shuichi needs even that much spelled out for him, then be doesn't deserve that Ultimate Detective title.
And if that wasn't enough on its own, he rocks away at first as if to give Shuichi room to sit down, only to lean back in again once he's settled, leg and shoulder lightly pressed to Shuichi's. He gives Shuichi a sideways look as a drinks.]
But who said I won't talk to you? Seems like you just decided that on your own.
[Maybe he's not inclined to spill his guts immediately upon being asked, but it's not like he didn't wasn't saying anything important at all.]
no subject
Fine... maybe you're talking to me. But you aren't telling me anything.
[ Trying to keep the note of reproach out of that is pretty hard. But... frustration or not, it's still not the main thing he wants to say. ]
...Are you really going to be alright? You won't... do anything stupid after this, right?
[ Like, you know, set himself up as a staged mastermind of the whole thing again as a tactic to try and lure the real one out, then get himself killed dramatically in the end when that fails. Shuichi's had enough of that, thank you; and it didn't even work. He can't be sure... Kokichi doesn't have enough ideas about this place by now to try something just as drastic though. Albeit... he doubts he's had time or materials to set it up yet. ]
no subject
So he's just focused on his drink, casual and conversational.]
Are you worried I'm gonna do something like last time?
[Makes sense that that'd be what Shuichi's concerned about. He's a good person in general, so the nice little gestures are just to be expected, but concern? Of course Shuichi's only worried about him in terms of unease about what he might do. It makes sense. Kokichi practically engineered that reaction deliberately, back when he had a plan that drastic on the backburner.
He can't regret the things he's done now. He had to, if he was going to survive. If anyone was going to survive. Still, he can't entirely ignore the tiny voice in the back of his mind that wonders what their relationship would be like if that wasn't the foundation of it, if they could have met in a regular school without a death game hanging over their heads.
Kokichi glances sideways at Shuichi and shoots him a smirk. It's almost self-deprecating, somehow.]
That'd be kinda pointless now. I'm not gonna be able to trick the Ultimate Detective the same way twice.
[And Shuichi wouldn't let him get away with trying to trick everyone else the same way, he's sure. And it's hard to imagine whoever's running this isn't completely aware of everything that happened in their previous murdergame, so it's unlikely he'd be able to fool them the same way either.
Whatever he does now, he's gotta mix it up at least a bit.]
no subject
Not the same way, no.
[ There's a little more certainty in his voice when he says that, a little more stubbornness than before. Because he's sure of a few parts at least. Even if Shuichi wasn't the Ultimate Detective, Kokichi wouldn't try the same thing; he knows that. There's the real mastermind to account for, if they're involved in this too, and... there are other factors, too. Even in the killing game from before, the type of strategy Kokichi used... isn't something that can be carried out with great numbers of people. He had to do it gradually... wait... trim the group to a manageable number first.
To only those characters... who would move the way Kokichi needed. There's no way that sort of plan would be possible with the number of people in here. It's one thing to make six add up, and another to account for more than thirty. Or... depending who even counts as the target, three hundred. ]
Because you'd have to think of a different strategy, wouldn't you? You're not the type who makes generic plans... you tailor them carefully to the context and people around you.
[ So yeah, solid arguments or not, reassuring him Kokichi won't try the same thing as before counts for nothing. ]
no subject
Wow, Saihara-chan thinks so highly of me!
[That's something, at least.
He snickers into his drink, dropping the bit. The smile fades a bit – not shrinking, but the brightness dims down, that bitter edge returning. He hides it behind the can as he takes another sip and peers at Shuichi over the rim of it.]
But what if I said I didn't have any plans? What if I said I don't even know what I'm supposed to do anymore? Y'know, since I'm supposed to be dead already and all that. Would you even believe me?
[Is there even any point in trying to be genuine for once? He's already the boy who cried wolf. He's even straight up told Shuichi the truth about how he feels before and it was brushed off without a second thought. He set out to make sure his classmates would never believe him, and he definitely accomplished it.]
no subject
He feels his own dry lips as he presses them back together, curbing the puff of breath they'd begun to let out as they parted. ]
...
[ It's not that first impulse he listens to in the end, not that first thought he starts voicing out, as he side-eyes Kokichi from where they are and he thinks. This is too unconditional, and he doesn't want to lie. ]
...I can try.
[ That's better -- it's closer to what he's willing to say, what he's able to give while remaining certain it's not a promise he'll have to break later. ]
I do think highly of you, Ouma-kun, that's the point. You're perceptive... you're difficult to read and you can get people to do what you want. You were five steps ahead of us in the killing game. But where did that get you, on your own? You just ended up... dead.
[ Harsh, and the word almost drowns in his throat, but it's true. Yet the real question remains -- was Kokichi just saying that? Is Shuichi wasting his breath on a wall that won't listen or care? Or maybe... he isn't the only one who's learned something from that. ]
no subject
But he does affect a pout, curling in on himself and sighing dramatically into his can.]
Jeez, you don't have to rub it in...
[Somehow, the compliments don't actually make him happy. Objectively good things in a place like this – he needs to be perceptive and cunning if he wants to survive – but in this context? It just boils down to these are the reasons no one can ever believe in you. And it's not like he needs anyone to. He can survive on his own. Sometimes someone has to for all the strings to be pulled the right ways so others might survive, too. He shouldn't feel bad about being the one with enough pragmatism and foresight to do what needs to be done.
But Shuichi's right. What did it get him in the end? Not just dead, but here. Just another death game. He didn't even get Shuichi free, and god knows what's happened to any of the others. So what did he accomplish?
The pout relaxes into a frown that gets pressed into the cold metal rim of the can and smothered with soda.]
I don't plan on dying again.
[His tone is flatter here as the sulky act falls away. There is a distinction that matters there, at least to him. Shuichi makes it sound so accidental. Like he fucked up and got himself killed. Maybe he miscalculated and that forced his hand in picking that particular scheme, but it had always been an option. An awful, absolute-last-resort option, but still something he planned for, not something something completely out of his control. He was prepared to go that far to end things – making it sound like just a fuckup feels so dismissive of his efforts and intents.
But it's not like Shuichi understands those anyway. Because that's what Kokichi had aimed for. He can't exactly be annoyed at someone for something he orchestrated.
He huffs a breath that gives a fluttery echo over the opening of the can and sinks into Shuichi's side. Drops his head onto the detective's shoulder. There's still the tiniest detectable hint of stiffness to it, like he can't entirely dismiss the thought that he'll just be shoved off anyway, but Shuichi's warm against his side and he just wants more of that for a moment. Like this, he can almost imagine that it's not entirely one-sided. Like maybe Shuichi's weight against him is about mutual comfort rather than exhaustion. He can pretend this is something he could do at any time, not just in these odd, disjointed moments where the weight of everything going on overwhelms Shuichi enough to give Kokichi an opening.
He's never been one for self-delusion and escapism. But he can let himself have this tiny allowance, just for a minute maybe.
He sits like that for another quiet few seconds before adding on – clarifying – softer:]
I don't wanna die.