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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
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.