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Entry tags:
- !event,
- 2064 rom: turing,
- dangan ronpa: hajime hinata,
- dangan ronpa: kiyotaka ishimaru,
- dangan ronpa: kokichi ouma,
- dangan ronpa: shuichi saihara,
- elsword: clamor ventus,
- elsword: noah ebalon,
- fate: sherlock holmes,
- hanako-kun: nene yashiro,
- mo dao zu shi: meng yao,
- my hero academia: shoto todoroki,
- red dead redemption: arthur morgan
May event/tdm
Golden Week (closed to current characters)
On the 28th, Aiko Okane's body is returned to the auditorium, rotten and still thawing when the first student walks in upon her and screams themselves hoarse. She is swiftly removed and the auditorium is closed for the rest of the day for deep cleaning, the smell of disinfectant lingering for days after. In honor of the late student council president, a gorinto is later set up on one of the windowsills in the art room, stones perpetually damp and causing those who touch it to experience vivid flashbacks of flashing strobe lights so bright it's nauseating, a spinning room, hands covered in soot, a shadow moving from behind a bookcase, sharp pain in the back of the head—-
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
05/06 06:00 (open to all)
You open your eyes.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
05/08 16:27 (open to all)
After school on the 8th, when Clamor is headed up the second floor stairwell to the clocktower, he'll find that the door doesn't push in easily, as if there were something blocking it. A harder push and he dislodges something heavy, dark red blood pouring out from the open door to soak through his shoes and those of anybody nearby as the world spins and pitches and falls apart.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
OOC
- ✽ This event log doubles as a TDM, with new characters experiencing the recurring feeling of drifting in (school life) and out (canon life) of sleep up until they "open their eyes," after which they will have full awareness and come to their senses. Pre-established cr is possible to some extent, as a varying degree of familiarity may remain, but all characters will be strangers to one another unless they know each other in canon.
- ✽ A new closed prompt will go up on the 10th for auction results and body investigation, and on the 31st for the student council assembly.
- ✽ After the 8th, any blood spilled in the school will result in characters in the vicinity seeing its transformation into a dilapidated version of the same building. Nearby npcs turn into shadows, while nearby pcs are brought into the other world together. Finding a mirror and breaking it will return the character to where they originally were, as if no time had passed.
- ✽ The layout of the transformed school is exactly the same as the original, with inaccessible locations remaining inaccessible. The exception is the auditorium which has been replaced by a void, and fully stepping into the void will result in permadeath and a drop from the game. TDM characters may step into the void as their "exit" any time during the month, but if they are apped into the game, that death will not be considered canon.
- ✽ Applications are always open on a rolling basis. The player cap is currently set at 40, but will lowered to 30 in June.
no subject
I'm fulfilling your hope.
( it's as simple as that, and he even takes a few steps towards ishimaru — unlike last time, he's placing his hand on the other's chest, splayed out in an almost romantic manner over his heart. ) That's all I need to focus on, but if you're unable to conquer over me... are you really deserving of your title?
( he pauses, bringing his mechanical hand to his mouth, covering it once realizing what he said. is he doing this on purpose or...? )
Ah, forgive me, talking out of turn to an Ultimate, if you need.. you can punish me, I know you didn't get to last time.
no subject
[Ah, and now another round of physical contact! Ishimaru turns red, looking down as the other boy feels his chest. Time to try to... gently back away!]
So- so you wish for me to prove myself? I intend to do such a thing with or without you as an opponent, so you should not be worried on that front! I can fulfill my own hopes, through my own effort!
[Ishimaru frowns as he considers the idea of discipline.]
I do not intend to inflict any cruel punishment against you. I also do not agree with the offense that you stated, but you clearly do need some discipline! I would like to urge you to be on your best behavior!
no subject
Through your own effort?
( he wants to mention something, how his hopes were easily diminished, but he keeps it to himself and instead, brushes it off. ) I'm unsure if I can leave that to you, so that's why I'm here to help. ( besides, komaeda does what he believes will work in an ultimate's best interests, and ishimaru is no stranger to how komaeda believes he should behave around him. it's all for his hope, nothing more and nothing less. these are thoughts he's thinking about as he brings a hand to his chin in thought, and his eyes slowly glance at the bulletin board. what stands out isn't any of the papers, but the fact that there's picture frames above it that are wiggling, and well that's completely n —
wiggling?
he's unable to make it known because three of them seem to come unlatched from the wall at the same time, and spirals towards where ishimaru stands. they drop down faster than expected, almost like there's something sitting on the back of the portraits considering it doesn't turn and falls down flat. ah... someone better move! )
no subject
Yes, the power of hard work! Ah... you know, if you wish to help me with my campaign, there are many other ways that you could do so...
[Other than setting himself up as a rival. But Ishimaru already has a feeling that the other boy won't accept anything other than what he's already proposed. He feels backed into a corner here! Metaphorically, and literally! ...And complete with things falling to his head. Two of the picture frames conk him on the head and he stumbles forward, allowing him to miss the third while he groans in pain.]
Ack!
no subject
Are you okay, Ishimaru-kun?
( he says that as he analyzes the frames on the floor, picking up a few of the broken shards. )
What awful luck... ( he pinches at the edge of the frame, ready to lift it up until he notices something heavy. he blinks confused, stumped by the realization that he lets it go to watch it fall back into place. staring, he reaches out for it again, and there's some minor confusion as its lighter than it was before. ) ... Why is there glitter on you, has everything been falling on you today?
no subject
I- I am quite alright, thank you. It was no more than a simple bump on the noggin! ...Er, two bumps!
[He continues sparkling as he stands over the other boy.]
No, that is not the case. This may look like glitter, but it is actually soap! It came out of the soap dispenser from the bathroom. It seems to have made me so clean that I sparkle! [And here he had thought that was just a figure of speech! But then, there's always something new to learn!]
no subject
( if it's soap that's made him so clean that he sparkles, komaeda doubts that he would put it over his body in that manner. it's on various parts of his clothing and he doesn't see any reason as to why he would do such a thing unless he's cleaning that too. that's curious, it almost feels akin to how his own luck works, but he ignores it to look back at the frames. ) Did you get into some trouble and want to hide the evidence?
( he parts his mouth shocked, as if he's finally realized what the other is up to. as much as ishimaru speaks about how komaeda needs discipline, did he...? )
Oh, I get it! You're bullying the first years!
( that's said with a smile as he glances up at ishimaru one last time before standing properly, dusting off his pants of any glass he might have gotten on them. )
You should have asked me, I'd do anything for a fellow Ultimate!
no subject
What?! Of course not! I would never engage in any kind of behavior as lowly as bullying! [He balls up a fist angrily.] Furthermore, you should not volunteer to help with such horrid behavior so quickly!
[He sighs and tries to wipe down at his clothes... only now starting to realize how widespread the sparkling is.]
I- I told you the truth. All I was doing was washing my hands! I just... I must have gotten some on my clothes as well! I... am sure that it will fade in time!
no subject
( he reassures the other, waving off the thought with his hand as he watches the other. )
I'll do it so that your hands aren't dirtied. ( that is a curious thing though, what he says about the glitter on his clothes. this could come from bullying first years, but given the straight-laced personality that ishimaru has, komaeda doubts it. in fact, he would be shocked to learn that his hope had become a little more aggressive than most. )
But I was too late, of course an idiot like me would miss the chance to be of use to you.
( since komaeda's facing him, he raises his hand up as if he's been caught in a crime, attempting to show his innocence. he takes one step back, and it appears like he's ready to take another to place distance between them. at the same time, ishimaru may notice that the frame from before is slowly being slid behind komaeda, almost as if there's some presence that wants him to slip on it. )
no subject
[Ishimaru scolds the other boy while trying to wipe at his clothes. But as he looks back towards him, he notices something happening - the frame being slid behind him. He might slip.]
Ah... watch out behind you! [He says as he lunges forward, trying to grip onto the other boy's sleeve to keep him from stepping onto the frame!]
no subject
Ishimaru-kun? ( he calls out, a little confused as he realizes what he's stepping on, but luckily the other ultimate holding onto him prevents any unfortunate incident. ) Touching trash like me... I truly am blessed, why would an Ultimate such as yourself whose hope went unfulfilled hold onto me like a lover!
( he shivers for a moment until he takes a step forward. )
I don't deserve such attention. ( komaeda, he just touched your sleeve, calm down freak. )
no subject
I- I apologize! I did not mean to imply some sort of, of intimacy! I am only trying to help you... y-you almost slipped and feel!
[He grips onto the boy's other sleeve and tries to gently pull him away from the frame.]
Please, forgive my invasion of your personal space! You do not need to- to react in the way you are reacting! [He hopes above all that this guy can dial it down!]
no subject
( and he means it, no matter how soft his voice is nor the way it comes off suggestive — he means it purely and wholeheartedly. he'd do so much for an ultimate if they asked, so the moment he's pulled forward away from the frame, he follows like a dog. the cracking of shards is heard underneath his shoes, and it manages to draw his attention to the floor so that he can take a look. talking about the frames, how did this one get that close compared to the others that are are inches away. )
Don't apologize to me, I'm just happy that you'd even put your hands on me. ( he sighs wistfully. ) I can't wait to tell the others the way you pulled me close...
( tone it down? no, let's embarrass him a little more. ) Of course an Ultimate like yourself would be this attentive, but... when did this get here? ( the frame, he knows it didn't drop there. )
no subject
Ishimaru will release him the moment it seems like he's safe. And then step away for good measure.]
I- I do not mind you telling others about this accident, as long as you recall it accurately! It... ah... is best not to spread rumors, after all!
[And he just has to put everything in the most embarrassing way possible! Still, the other boy raises a point, so Ishimaru sidesteps towards the fallen frame to look over it.]
You do raise a valid question, however. How did that frame get all the way behind you? Is there... someone else here? But I have not spotted anyone else...
no subject
( he sighs, disappointed as he shakes his head. he turns around properly, standing right beside ishimaru so they're both faced the same way. )
Someone else here...? I wonder...
( he pauses, staring at the frame, and then he looks towards ishimaru. ) You can try to pick it up?
( would he go through the same oddity if so? )
no subject
He doesn't see any signs of anyone else, though, and he complies with Nagito's request.]
Certainly! I will now, carefully pick it up!
[With that, Ishimaru leans over and attempts to pick that frame up off of the floor!]
no subject
( he laughs softly, pointing to the frame he was about to slip over — his talent works in mysterious ways, and things miraculously happen against or for him. he isn't surprised that this would happen to him, but what concerns him is the fact that he felt something heavy the last time he tried to pick it up. )
Is it light or heavy?
( he leans forward to get a better look at what the other is doing, his head tilting to the side, curious. )
no subject
[He gives a nervous chuckle, and he gets to work on lifting the frame! ...With... a lot of effort.]
...Huh? H-heavy, it is heavier than it has any right to be! What kind of picture frame is this...
no subject
I'm not sure... Three of them dropped, so if you check the other two...
( they should be lighter, indicating there's something different about the one ishimaru had just picked up. of course, when komaeda looks back to where the other two were — they're gone! what the hell... )
...
no subject
[He sets the frame down hastily and then turns around to find... no signs of the other frames.]
...Er, what happened to the frames...?
no subject
( well, it could be, but he doubts it because of how whirlwind every reaction seems to be. )
We should change location to see if this is happening somewhere else? ( and he looks towards ishimaru to see if he's willing to agree. )
You said you went and washed your hands for that to happen? That's a place to check to see if things are normal again.
no subject
Yes, it was in the boy's bathroom. I suppose that it is worth checking out! We should see if there is any connection between that strange glittery soap and the puzzling picture frames... In that case, let us proceed?
[He starts to move back towards the hallway!]
no subject
( and that he is, he stays positioned behind the other as he looks around — normally, the person who falls behind is meant to be attacked by the unknown. he wonders if it'll work in this circumstance as well, and besides, it's not like komaeda should be walking next to an ultimate properly anyway. if one of them is meant to die, at least komaeda can serve that cause. )
It's mysterious, but this school is nothing if not that, huh?
( frames, this unusual glitter, it's like someone is enjoying whatever is happening to them. )
no subject
I cannot argue with that! This place has far more mysteries than I feel comfortable with!
[But while they're talking about the unknown, Ishimaru realizes that he might as well try asking this of him again.]
Speaking of mystery, would you like to properly introduce yourself?
no subject
( how long has it been? long enough, and when he thought they'd never had to cross this bridge. he doesn't see why they have to considering the fact that komaeda isn't important. )
I'm Nagito Komaeda... ( he sounds upset about this introduction, or he's not enthusiastic about what he has to say as he continues. ) My talent isn't anything interesting, but I'm happy you allow me to be by your side.
(no subject)
after digging in my inbox of 70, I'm sorry this is late
headpats
(no subject)
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