mainsrouges

[mainsrouges]

holy shit 

#ch5 moodboard i never posted #ooc

[mainsrouges]

hi we’ve been having a lot of really dark times so i just want to bring this back. world heritage post.

i cant fucking stand quinine. "gluten free"? grow up

#ooc

[mainsrouges]

corny on main || anastasia || re: bams, Orwell's Big Brain Idea

Weeks ago, she collapsed against her couch a shuddering mess and sobbed incomprehensibly into Scourge’s shoulder twice in the same fucking day. And she hadn’t wanted to, but she hadn’t know what else to do. Stress, she could handle. Judgement, she could handle. But the overwhelming feeling of being trapped, the pathetic, endlessly frustrating helplessness of knowing that no matter what she does, it’s never going to be enough? 

It broke something that she didn’t think could be broken. And if the way the tears spill over the instant she hears those words from Bams, that she doesn’t know, are any indication? The way she’d tried to tie it all back together afterwards wasn’t going to hold up anymore.

Maybe Orwell is right. Maybe it’s as easy Runa and Ivan wishing them out of harm’s way with the reward issued by Gambit. Maybe there’s a third option, maybe there’s not, maybe Ivey isn’t the Grand Don at all and they’re all being strung along by something much bigger and none of this even matters. Anastasia doesn’t know either.

But – here are the things she does know: That three seats down, one of the most important people she’s ever known is in some kind of pain. Ana told her once that she was probably the most incredible person she’d ever met, and that was the truth. She’d also told her that nothing was ever going to change that, and that was the truth. That person spent countless months lying to her, withholding the knowledge that she thought they were looking for together, playing on the other side of a game that neither of them wanted to be a part of. It’s the same person. Bams, Clover, Crisis, every other name including the only one that matters. It’s a difficult thing to reconcile, but it doesn’t make the things that Anastasia told her any less true.

She knows that there are other people who are just as important. That Scourge, Runa, Orwell, Masaki, Seattle, she couldn’t just knowingly sacrifice them all no matter who she was doing it for. Anastasia doesn’t like voting because she doesn’t like deciding, but today that isn’t an option.

She knows that there is a card on the table in front of her and a decision she needs to make. She knows that it’s very, very likely there will be no happy ending to this story. She knows that everyone sitting in this room has experienced unspeakable tragedies, even if they don’t remember them all, and that there’s a very good chance this won’t be the last.

(But Duck said something once, what was it–?

“That is the appeal of uncertainty, Anastasia.  Knowing that it could be something other than that, even if you’d have to work towards something unknown and a little bit blindly.”)

Through her tears, she gives Bams a smile. There’s a familiar kind of nervousness to it, but it isn’t forced. She hopes it looks comforting.

“…I really hope this works, [Bams]. I wasn’t kidding when I told you that I could make a much better Valentine outside of here.”

#CLOWN MUSIC CLOWN MUSIC CLOWN MUSIC #ic

[mainsrouges]

pogcorn || Grand Don Power Hour 2.8 (jesus christ) || anastasia || @ ivey/bams

Her cards have been long since set down, hands retreating to her lap to fidget nervously with her pen, eyes flickering uneasily in every direction. Ivey to Bams to Scourge to Quinine to Duck, standing up on the table–

(And to think she’d commented so many times that it was Duck and Scourge who had too many similarities sometimes, when apparently it was her and Duck who had a little too much in common. 

Still not enough, though, because as much as Anastasia would stand in front of Bams in an attempt to shield her from the scrutiny of their peers, she knows that isn’t who she is. She knows she doesn’t have that presence, she’s not the kind of person who climbs up on the table, she’s staying frozen in her seat still trying to work out who’s winning and who’s losing. What any of that even means anymore.)

And she’s surprised, but maybe not surprised enough, because she’s been blindsided quite enough today and this at least is something that’s come up in conversation enough times before. It’s not like she hadn’t considered it, gone back and forth a hundred times because she knew how consistently people were on Ivey’s ass about everything, and she didn’t want to make that any worse because she really did kind of like her, but if the shoe fit…

And it fit. And that’s all there really is to say about that right now. She’s put a full stop on really processing anything here, she just needs to keep her brain moving. Move from one big question to the next, worry about how to unpack it later.

“What do we do, then?”

It’s all she can think to say in response to all that Ivey has to say. The next major thing she can think of.

“What do you mean it’s pointless? What happens? To y…” she trails off there, and when she finds her voice again it’s somehow even smaller. “To both of you? We can’t just not vote. Right?”

A wide-eyed look over at Scourge, like she’s not even sure how confident she can be in a statement like that. And then back, looking from Bams to Ivey like she’s not even sure who she should be asking.

“What happens if we don’t? What happens if we do? [Bams], you said before that we don’t…we don’t know that it’ll count as a win for all of us, was that…did you mean that? Or was it just to…I don’t know, throw us off?” Oh, the way her voice pitches there makes it obvious that she really doesn’t like doubting something that Bams said. “How are we supposed to…make a decision like that when we don’t even know…what’s going to happen?  To everyone? Does it even matter? I mean, isn’t everything…it’s all broken now! There has to be something we can take advantage of here, a way to…”

(A way to what? She doesn’t know. It probably goes without saying here, but she looks at Bams again.)

“We can’t just not vote, but I can’t…how do we help you? How do we make this work, for all of us?”

It sounds more like a plea than a question, really.

#heh....nothing personnel kid #ic

[mainsrouges]

corn wallet || Grand Don Power Hour 2.7(??) || anastasia || re: bams, orwell('s accusation) / attn: ivey

All Anastasia can do in response to the apology is shake her head. And maybe it looks a little frantic, a little desperate, a little like she’s in denial that there’s anything to apologize for. But the longer she spends trying to truly commit herself to acting like nothing has really changed, like the sudden confession was little more than a bump in the road on the way to learning something much more important, the easier it is to believe. The longer she spends thinking, keeping her head down and trying to come up with anything, anything she can salvage from the day old, week old, month old conversations left filed away. Preferably, focusing on the things that don’t make her want to cry.

(It’s hard enough, seeing Bams break down the way she is. But she can think about that later, she can find a way to help, but right now–)

And at almost the same moment Orwell begins to speak, it’s like a light bulb over her head pops on. Admittedly, she’s only half listening – once the gears start turning in her head, it’s like she’s somewhere else entirely. Her expression freezes, starts to look a little vacant again. She gets the gist, at least. Hears the accusation, gentle as it is. And that’s what prompts her to speak up at the first chance that she gets, the first silence left open, because if there was ever a time to voice her own idea…it might as well be as the spotlight fell on Ivey anyways.

“…[Bams] had this idea, a little while ago. That your survival when [Valerio] threw the ferris wheel wasn’t just dumb luck, it was some kind of…I don’t know, safeguard? Because as the Don, you couldn’t risk letting yourself die. Something like that.It wasn’t…it was just an idea, we’d all sort of tossed around the possibility of the Don keeping themself safe like that. But she brought up you. And I thought…at first, that it meant we could rule you out for the same reasons as [Rookie]. Because if you were working together, why would she go out of her way to suggest you like that? She brought us to the broken ferris wheel. Not even just me, the whole…gang. She wanted…another pair of eyes on it. To see what we all thought. To make sure we were…thinking about it, even?“

Because enough of them had exposed each other already, she might as well tie it all together. It’s not like she thought there’d been any real secrets coming in. And when she looks back up, it’s not even at Ivey – it’s at Bams again. A familiar kind of wide-eyed curiosity on her face, the kind that’s just a little too close to excitement when it’s definitely not appropriate.

(She tries to catch her eye and it’s almost, for a moment, like she’s looking for approval. To be told that she got something right after all.)

“But is that what you meant? Getting rebellious, trying to…let us come to our own conclusions? You never really pushed for it, but it was always there. You never tried too hard to convince us to rule her out, either. I don’t know. Maybe it could have gone either way.”

And with that, she finally looks at Ivey…and then to Orwell…and then between the two of them a couple of times. Blinking a little as she comes fully back to reality, realizes she might be caught in the middle of something much more personal here, shrinking back just a bit in her seat as she throws another somewhat desperate look in Bams’s direction. Like she’s still searching for something. 

“…But I don’t see many other options. Which I think, um…leaves the floor to you, [Ivey].”

#why was this one corn wallet #ic

[mainsrouges]

flights from ny to england || don 2.6 || anastasia || re: moss, bams, seattle, duckcusations

Somehow, over everything else, she hears Moss. And that’s what sets her off.

“Don’t talk to her like that!”

It might be the loudest she’s spoken in months, that she can remember anyways, something almost like a shriek that comes tearing out before she knows how to stop it. It feels like days ago, dropping everything she was holding and walking out of her suite to find Duck in a desperate attempt to convince her not to reveal Scourge’s abilities, like hours ago when she found herself glaring instinctively at anyone who even so much as tried implicating them in Aki’s murder. Blind, impulsive defense.

(Something about Bams has always made her a little more impulsive.)

At least throwing the most intense look she can muster in Moss’s direction is enough to get her eyes off Bams. It’s easier, not seeing her, because otherwise it’s hard to think about anything other than climbing over the table to make sure she’s okay before letting the conversation continue. It makes it easier to ignore everything she still wants to ask-

(Were we close, before? Were we even friends? Is this the first time you decided that you liked me? Was I one of the people you killed? Would you do it again, if you had to? When we lose, when they hit reset again, will you still be here? Will you watch? Will you–)

and focus on the questions that she knows need to be answered. So she listens, but she doesn’t let herself process. She breathes, tries to pull back some of her composure. And she keeps her feelings pressed down as far as she can, looks back up in Bams’s direction without really looking at her, and trying to keep her tone as even as possible:

“…I believe you. I always believed you.” The slightest tilt of her head, a smile that feels more desperate than encouraging. “It’s not over yet. Right now, I can keep being optimistic for the both of us.”

(And that’s what matters, that it isn’t over. That’s what keeps her in one piece. That there’s more to be discovered. Because when Anastasia doesn’t think she could possibly be more lost, when she’s overwhelmed with hurt, with fear, with anger that she doesn’t know where to point, all she knows how to do is tell herself that she doesn’t have all the pieces yet and keep looking for further understanding.)

“…[Duck] is right. Badgering her isn’t going to get us anywhere. How can we expect getting information from her to go any easier than trying to get it from [Mothman], or Gambit himself? I imagine she’s subject to many of the same rules and restrictions as them with the things she’s allowed to say. We’re on our own. With one less suspect.”

There’s no need to remove Bams’s card from her deck, of course – a few had been quietly set aside along with her own when the trial began, a small selection that she came in having already ruled out. Clumsy hands shuffle all but the obvious two back in, and then start reorganizing: removing Seattle, Orwell, Quinine, names and faces that have been cleared by evidence alone. 

“Speaking of [Duck]. As long as we’re talking about the portrait, clues in aspects of their appearance…I suppose there’s a chance things were different last time, but I’ve certainly never known these outfits to come with a weapon built in. The person standing up in that portrait made the conscious decision to keep a sheath and sword on them, which is something worth, uh…considering. When we know of at least two people who like to carry swords around.”

“…That said, before you start…getting defensive on me too, I’m not – [Ivey] has spent enough time defending herself already, and I don’t think it’s [Duck] either. [Claire] already cleared her, if we’re continuing to assume that the eight chairs on the island with the coins left on them correlate to the eight past winners. The codenames we’re left to wonder about are Francisco, Cherry, Hope, and Daisy. [Duck] was Cleopatra. I’m only saying it’s another part of the portrait to keep in mind. As a…sidenote, though, I would like to know if anyone else went to the island and can corroborate what [Duck] claims she saw – I don’t personally doubt her, but I hope you can all understand a desire for…confirmation. Just to be safe.”

#ic #clown music intensifies

[mainsrouges]

corn on the sob || Grand Don Power Hour 2.5 || anastasia || re: bams

“I’ve been thinking about who might be different. Or who might be…you know. Suspicious, at least. I know it’s not you, obviously. Or…[Scourge], Runa, Masaki…”

(There’d been a pause, a level of emotion on Bams’s face that Anastasia didn’t think she’d ever seen before, something about the way she looked at the ground, and she said…what did she say?)

“You… trust me that much already..?”

(Right, and then it was gone – like a switch flipping off, and at the time Ana had chalked it up to the cordyceps trying to stop her from feeling too much but the surprise caught her off guard almost as much as her words had apparently done to Bams, because–)

“Yeah? Of course I trust you. You’re pretty much, like…my best friend, I think. If I couldn’t trust you, I’d…be pretty screwed. So. It’s. A good thing that I know I can! There’s, uh. There’s not…a lot of other things that I’m willing to say I know.”

At no point while Bams is speaking does Anastasia look away, but from the way her expression starts to look a little blank it’s clear that her mind is wandering. That she’s running through every conversation she can remember, start to finish and then back again. About every time she’d just run on, and on, and on with her theories, and Bams–

“…She’s lying.”

(It doesn’t come out sounding half as confident as she meant for it to – her voice shakes, it barely sounds like a statement. She sounds like a little girl trying to defend herself from a childish rumor on the fucking playground, about ten seconds from bursting into tears from the stress. She blinks, tries to keep her expression from betraying any of that hurt, tries to keep herself on track.)

“The Grand Don is setting her up to take the fall. She’s barely even hiding it…! Can’t help letting people be used? All these convenient, obvious things? You said it yourself, earlier – everything here points to the Don wanting to hide behind other people. And…no prize for finding the sidekick, so we might as well get it over with?” She forces a strained little smile in Bams’s direction. “You couldn’t be…more obviously trying to rush us into voting for the wrong person. That’s, um…a pretty textbook fake confession! But it’s okay – you probably have to be subtle, don’t you? Can’t come right out and give us the answers. What fun would that be?”

The easiest course of action is, of course, to stop thinking about it. To push those conversations to the back of her mind, to focus on the here and now. To lean as heavily as she can on the part of her brain that she knows can shut these feelings down when it needs to, to focus on the mystery. To remove her idol, her closest confidant, her best friend, etc etc from the equation and think about: Bams. Clover. Whatever else she’s going to have to be called that isn’t her name. The person only a few seats away claiming to be the person that they’ve all been convinced is their enemy.

“There are still questions I’d like answered, of course. Things that I’m sure you can’t tell us. Everything [Scourge] asked, and then some. How long have we been here? Why did you stay? What are you getting out of this? It’s to help us, right? How much do you actually know about what’s happening here? How much have your time here has been playing the game, and how much has been real? Of course it’s…been real, right? All of…” again, her voice is shaking, but she just keeps going. “You can tell us why you did it, at least. You can tell us that it’s…your intentions were good, at least. I know they are. You have to give us that much, at least!”

 And that’s where it all spills out, the sheer desperation of needing to be told that her trust hasn’t been misplaced, that if she was wrong about everything else, every other word that’s ever come out of her mouth, she wasn’t wrong about her.

#ic #fuck y

[mainsrouges]

clorn off the clob || Grand Don Power Hour 2.4 || anastasia || re: maverick, bams accusations

It’s not like the same thought hadn’t occurred to Anastasia when the name Crisis first entered the conversation, but the accusation being laid out so bluntly doesn’t make it any easier to hear. Something about hearing Scourge say the two of us thought, being caught off guard by an accusation from two of the people who she’s been used to sharing everything with this whole time–

(And it makes sense, because when would they have had time to tell her? Still, the thought that they’ve had an idea this important that she didn’t know about feels like more of a betrayal than the potential of Bams being involved in the game.)

She tries to catch Bams’s eye when she notices her crying, wishes she could do something more than just look from a couple seats away, and tries not to sound too defensive when she says:

“Well, what is she supposed to do? Tell us that she is?”

It doesn’t work. It still comes out a little sharper than she means for it to, she tries to soften it. But it’s not so much the accusation that’s keeping frustration close to the surface as it is the implication that Bams might be anything but good, regardless of what role she may have played.

“Don’t call it a betrayal. The longer the discussion goes on, the less convinced I am that that’s what it is. I refuse to believe that any of this was ever about playing us, especially if we’re going to start pointing fingers at [Ba-]–” A frown as the start of what’s meant to be her real name doesn’t come out anywhere close. “…At easily one of the kindest people here. Which I’m not saying as a rebuttal, because I know it’s a weak one. I’m only saying that I’m with [Seattle], in that if she…” (oh this is hard to say) “If she is…involved, somehow. I have…full faith that she’s doing the right thing. For everyone.”

And maybe it’s unfair – that nothing before seeing a couple of tears from Bams elicited any kind of real emotional response from Anastasia, but to her it feels like a repeat of the accusations against Scourge. A waste of time. Because surely, if all this time the answer had been the person right in front of her, she would have noticed. Staying on this topic too long is a waste of time. Obviously.

She keeps her eyes on Bams, wishing she could just be a little bit closer–

(What a shitty time to change up the seating arrangements on them, when she doesn’t just have to count on Rookie leaving his chair empty to pass a note, offer a hand across the empty space.)

“…That said. It’s not enough for me. It feels too convenient, like they’re just handing us an answer in a way that…isn’t like them. If it’s something you’d like to keep on the back burner, that’s fine. But I don’t know how solid of an accusation it is coming from something that’s so…easy.“

#HAHA. THIS SUCKS MAN. #ic

[mainsrouges]

blue corn tortilla chip || Grand Don Power Hour 2.3 || anastasia || re: seattle, duck

Anastasia looks between Runa and Ivan with confusion as the details of what happened unfold, eyes widening just slightly as she starts to understand. She’s starting to look a little worried, but it’s not for Runa. It’s for the fact that things are falling so far off track, that the Grand Don discussion seems to have been tabled. The strange excitement she was feeling before is fading, she doesn’t connect with Quinine’s anger, Maverick’s relief. All she’s starting to feel is the familiar stress that comes with a situation that’s slipping rapidly out of her control. All she can think is that now simply isn’t the time for emotions to be running high, not about this.

(It feels sometimes like empathy is a switch in her head that flips off without her consent, like the feelings of others matter less than the answers she wants even though she knows that she shouldn’t. She thinks, perhaps, that she should feel a certain way about learning what’s happened, but all she feels is a quiet frustration that neither of them fucking said anything. That Runa watched them all run around that investigation, clueless and looking for answers, and didn’t say anything even with the knowledge that nothing was really at stake–

It doesn’t occur to her what Runa might be feeling, simple as that, and even as she listens to her tearful explanation…

Much like when Ivey was dying at the table and people couldn’t believe that all Anastasia wanted was to know how she pulled off a murder, like every time she’s observed people’s visible discomfort with her questions and showed no signs of stopping – in the moment, she doesn’t particularly care.)

She’s still staring dead at Runa when she speaks, and while she certainly looks shaken…

“…Thank you, [Seattle]. I don’t think this conversation is going to be very productive. There will be plenty of time to discuss these things when we’re done with all this.”

Finally, she manages to look away. Seek out those same three faces in the crowd, Scourge, Bams, finally landing on Seattle.

“I’m going to have to disagree with you on one point, though. While we may not be required to figure out why the Don and the mole took these positions…I’m not sure how well we’re going to be able to narrow down suspects without at least having an idea of their motivations. And…yes, I’m choosing to stay optimistic about what those motivations might be.” A glance back towards Bams with that. “If we don’t find them, we lose. Doesn’t it only make sense that if we do find them, we win? That’s the simplest answer, isn’t it? Maybe there is more to it. Maybe there were other things that they were trying to do behind the scenes, maybe all of this – crashing down around us was part of it! But at the very core of it all, I believe that this was intended to help us. That’s why [Mothman] said they stayed, and they seemed insistent that the Don didn’t have any malicious intent in staying behind either. That’s what I would have done, if I had the opportunity.”

“With regards to the environment…this is a setting that’s been in use for quite some time now, before the Don was ever a part of it – at least, as the Don. Things may have been added for this most recent cycle, but that’s what we would need to look for. Things that are new. Those are the only things that could reasonably be actual hints towards their identity, yes?”

She’s still looking a little tense, throwing much more uneasy glances towards some of the people more wrapped up in the previous drama. And even so, she keeps going. Looks down at the list of codenames from the island passed to her by Duck.

“…[Brandi] and [Mamoru]’s codenames didn’t change after this cycle. Or perhaps – for this cycle? Fishhook and Nixon are both still listed with the names [Duck] found on the island. They’re the only two that stayed the same. And you said…” she blinks. Tilts her head a little. “You said there were eight chairs with coins on them, didn’t you? Including Fishhook and Nixon? Twenty four minus eight, that leaves the sixteen of us who haven’t won yet. Our group, without the Don and the mole. Maybe those eight…what were they? Uh…” she checks her notes. “Fishhook, Nixon, Francisco, Cherry, Hope, Daisy, Kennedy, and Nickel…those are the codenames…from that cycle, at least…of the eight total winners?” 

#ic

[mainsrouges]

Corn. (sorry im in class) || Grand Don Power Hour 2.2 || anastasia || re: orwell, duck, seattle, maverick

And this, somehow, is how Anastasia works best. Four different conversation threads to follow, a mystery to solve. People finally, finally, finally sharing information, discussing right out in the open everything that’s been taking up space in her head for weeks. If not for how objectively horrifying everything they’re learning was, she might even be enjoying herself. 

(And while she certainly wouldn’t say that she is enjoying herself, it’s hard to deny the kind of thrill that runs through her at the thought of finally achieving some kind of understanding of their situation, a morbid kind of excitement that she hasn’t felt this strongly since the first time she stood at one of these trials–)

The emotional response from Runa catches her a little off guard, but her one track mind keeps barrelling forward. People better suited than her have it handled, and she knows that if she lets herself get stuck on the kinds of questions that Runa is asking–

(How far has she come only to be put right back where she started? How many mistakes has she made? How many friends has she made, only to lose?)

It’s not acceptance. That can come later. She lets her train of thought be guided by the conversation, refuses to let it stall. 

“The Grand Don’s goal here seems clear to me. It’s just as [Scourge] said – an alternative win condition. People are escaping slowly as they win, but there always has to be a loser. A single win like [Claire]’s means that everyone else is sent back. A gang win, like [Moth] – ah. Calamity, Audi, and Valentine achieved still leaves three gangs behind to repeat the cycle. But the Grand Don provides us with a third option, one that allows the entire class to “win” all together.

“Perhaps asking [Amita] and I to run interference was more about them trying to keep that win fair. It’s not like they could just come right out and confess – we need to find them ourselves, and we have to put on enough of a show first, otherwise Gambit wouldn’t let it count. Find a way to make us lose on a technicality. I think…failing to identify them might be the opposite of what they want. We need to figure out who they are, because it’s the only way for all of us to win together.”

That’s awfully optimistic.

“[Mothman] has made their intentions clear. To me, at least. They’re here because they want to help us. I would wager that [Claire] and [Aki] are here for the same reasons – they could get that paycheck anywhere. In their position, knowing what we know now, I’d have stayed too.”

With that, she looks to Maverick.

“[Brandi] and [Mamoru]’s game was earlier, actually. [Mothman] couldn’t tell me much, but they could at least tell me that. The cycle immediately before the one we’re in now was won by the Clubs gang, [Mamoru], [Brandi], and [Claire] all won or were…um. Otherwise…removed before that. I would agree however [Mav-] – sorry,” banana “That this is the first time a winner has returned to the group, even if they’re only posing as normal players. So…”

“Limit and Crisis! That’s who we need to find. Perhaps we should be looking for some kind of pattern in the sets of codenames that we already have available to us…”

 Of course you would think that, Ana. Great. Now she’s staring at all the codenames.

#haha. this sucks man #ic

[mainsrouges]

talking corn || Grand Don Power Hour 2.1 || anastasia || attn: seattle, ALSO EVERYONE ELSE IG LETS GO

The votes are a mess, Anastasia expects no less. It’s fine, though – she’s not really paying attention. She doesn’t have time to try and decipher what Gambit means by confessing to the wrong crime, she doesn’t have time to cast any more doubt on Ivan’s claims about his true nature or who might have done what the mysterious people sitting at the table with them. Anastasia has decided that she’s focusing on one thing at a time, and right now she has a much more important thing to focus on than just murder.

“…[Mothman], [Brandi], [Masaki], [Maverick], Flat Tire, [Amita]. Hearts.”

She points to each person as she says their name, then glances back down at her notebook.

“[Ivan], [Rita], [Rookie], [Scourge], [Mamoru], [Claire], spades…[Duck], [Runa], [Aki], [Orwell], [Valerio], [Ivey], diamonds, which leaves…[Bams], [Seattle], [Moss], [Nisha], [Quinine], and myself in clubs.”

What the fuck does that mean, Ana. She gives her notebook one more look before nodding to make sure she has it all right and looking back up.

“There were four sets of chairs in the opera house in Anduin, color coded – red, pink, black, and grey. These were the codenames written on them, and that’s how they were organized. Our old gangs, I’m assuming, from an early…iteration of the game. Maybe even the first, if the number of participants is anything to go by. All twenty four of us, together. That would probably have been the correct number of students for our original Summit class, right? Which leaves a lot of questions, but still tells us…quite a bit.”

…She’s strangely calm as she delivers this information. Instinctively, there are a few people who she seeks out at the table over others, putting a particular focus on Scourge, Bams, and Seattle as she speaks – people who have no doubt heard her endless theorizing for months, who it’s much easier to imagine she’s speaking to.

“One, that the reset theory wasn’t far off. The part that a lot of people were hung up on was the idea that Gambit could bring people back to life, which…we know now that he can. And has, more than once. It’s hard to say how many times, but I think we can all be pretty certain that this is more than just our second go at it.” A pause, to let that sink in. Seems she’s having some trouble reconciling with it herself, despite the fact that she’s been thinking about it for as long as she has. “Two, that gang affiliation seems to switch up every round, as do codenames. [Ivan] mentioned something that [Mothman] told him about a previous codename of theirs, Calamity? And [Mothman] told me that [Aki]’s was Valentine, once. Three…”

“…That those games ended. And some of us went back in, and some of us…” she looks at the empty seats, at Mothman, Claire, and Aki. “…Didn’t. Or some stayed, but…in different roles. More than just players. We know that this is the first time that a Don has been present, and if this is the number of people that we started with, and that hasn’t changed…then it doesn’t seem to unreasonable to say that the Grand Don and their mole started out as players on the same level as the rest of us too. As for what that means…“

A sigh, as she stares back down at her notes. She’s starting to look a little self conscious about talking so much, and busies herself with mindless scribbling at the corner of a page.

“…Oh. And one more thing. We theorized during the last trial that the Grand Don may have contacted one person from each of the gangs that they aren’t in, and that might help us find them. Unfortunately, it won’t – because the second person contacted by the Don was Amita, and she’s in my gang. Seattle should, um…still have the note, I think…? So. That isn’t going to help us much in terms of narrowing it down, except to clear Amita of suspicion.”

#and it begins. #ic

[mainsrouges]

doubtful corn || 5.5 || anastasia || re: ivan

“…You’re lying.”

Anastasia doesn’t look back up at Ivan until after she says it, still more confused than anything else. Gives him a curious little head tilt, glancing back down at her notes. She’s still clearly a little shaken, but at least this has given her something new to focus on. Even if it’s only for a moment.

“You say you won’t gamble with our lives on purpose, and then in the next breath that you love killing people and you never cared about any of us? If you actually have a different form, I’d like to see it. Everyone else, they can…close their eyes if they don’t want to risk it, or something. Apparently it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve died here, and if you really don’t care what happens to any of us…” 

(…She says with such confidence that she doesn’t believe him, and yet…

Oh, she definitely looks a little excited. Just a little.)

“It’s true that you don’t have much reason to cover for anyone, considering that they wouldn’t be in any danger. Lying only serves to throw us further off course and risks derailing not just this discussion, but the extremely important one that will follow – because without a clear picture of these murders, it’s going to be even harder to unravel the whole mystery. And still…having experienced plenty of other fake confessions…”

She shrugs.

“I think we’re all going to need a little more than just your word, [Ivan].”

#throwback to incubus ivan #ic

[mainsrouges]

midnight corn || 5.4 || anastasia || re: ivan, rita

Anastasia’s head goes down when she finishes speaking and it doesn’t come back up, especially not as the backlash to her defense of Scourge comes in. They were grateful – that’s what matters. Not the instinctive panic that shoots through her at the first sign that anyone might not agree, not the fact that she’s biting her lip so hard she tastes blood, one part nerves one part frustration. She clutches her pen tighter, keeps her eyes on the paper, decides if everyone is so hellbent on pinning this one on Scourge against all logic that they somehow can’t see, fine, she’ll just have to solve it herself–

And then Ivan takes out his glock and Anastasia nearly jumps out of her seat at the noise. (And it’s a good thing she doesn’t, considering the drop!) She clutches her journal to her chest and watches with wide eyes as Gambit goes down. She’s almost more frightened after it’s done than she was when it was happening, because she knows it can’t be that easy – 

And sure enough. Another comes to take his place just as fast, and she relaxes. (Almost every time, he said, which means - not yet, not now, take it one mystery at a time - but of course, it’s not like it can be avoided much longer–)

“…Good effort, at least.”

Her voice is shaking. She can’t even bring herself to smile at Ivan before returning to her work, and his allusion to supernatural powers only serves to confuse her. She looks up at him, then her notebook…then at Rita, then at…Bams? Obviously. Go-to gossip buddy. Then back at her notebook. Flipping through. She even pulls a second, smaller notebook out from inside her jacket and starts looking through that too.

“Influencing others, could that…? I suppose that is something the cordyceps could have repressed, but I don’t know that it’s anything he’s ever used on people, and if he…” she trails off for a second. “…would it need to be something more physical…?” and then again, staring at her notes. Thinking very hard.

She looks back up. From Ivan to Rita a couple times. Confusion increases.

“…But you never…now isn’t the time to be vague about things like this! If you can help us, just…say something.”

#ic

[mainsrouges]

evening corn || 5.3 || anastasia || re: mostly duck sorry

Anastasia is staring rather intensely at Duck from the moment she mentions beating around the bush, a look that’s not quite a glare, but not…particularly friendly. It’s only after Scourge has finished speaking that she looks back to her notebook, shooting the same kind of intense and unreadable look to anyone who starts speaking afterwards as though she’s just lying in wait to get defensive on their behalf.

(Save for Bams, who gets a worried glance at the burn on her arm when she pulls it out. Naturally.)

It’s not until hearing Duck so confidently refute Scourge’s defense that she taps her pen against the page and looks up, unable to keep herself from jumping in. God help us.

“If [Scourge] killed [Aki], we would know. Not because of the cause of death, but because there would be no reason to hide it. It’s as you said, the culprits have already won. Ultimately, our votes aren’t going to matter. We may as well consider this discussion a warm-up – the killers have nothing to lose by revealing themselves, but we have a lot that we need to unpack and need as much time as we can possibly be allowed to do that.

It’s unfortunate that your perception of [Scourge] is so unfairly warped. Luckily I, and I’m pretty sure just about anyone else who actually knows them can assure you that they’re probably the last person who would want to waste everyone’s time making us talk about a murder when we have much more important issues to discuss. They would have told us by now – out of frustration, if nothing else, so that we could move on.”

She tilts her head a little. Gives Duck the same tense looking smile that she’s been on the receiving end of since earlier in the investigation.

“This is a pointless line of questioning based on a petty grudge that you seem obsessed with dragging everyone else into. [Scourge] didn’t kill [Aki]. Drop it. We have more important things to do!“

…Jesus. Okay. That was a lot of words to essentially say ‘scourge is my bestie so obviously if they killed someone they would have told me’ but go off I guess.

“…For example. I’m much more interested in what [Aki] was doing to make herself a target. The black book is almost certainly hers, whether she’s able to confirm that for us or not. It’s obvious that she, at one point, had rather strong negative feelings towards our group and decided that she was going to do something to get herself out of here. I know one solution. Those sound like the words of someone about to do something drastic to me, and that doesn’t necessarily mean hurting someone. Perhaps she intended to find a loophole in the game, the same as some of us have, and it backfired?”

#ic

[mainsrouges]

morning corn || 5.2 || anastasia || re: bams, orwell, maverick

“Oh – didn’t you see the stables, [Bams]? It, um. It looks like the horses were all…employees. People, like [Aki], except…I’m not sure who the others were. There was a photograph in the breakroom under the stables, but [Aki] and Benny were the only people in it I could recognize. No sign of the, uh. Other three.” Quick glances at the three empty seats. “What Benny said implied that they were jumping ship to avoid getting caught up in the game breaking down, though as for where they could have gone…I don’t know. But I’m not sure their disappearances had anything to do with not wanting to be discovered. It’s not like we would have thought anything strange about them, would we? The only reason we found out about this in the first place is because of the journal [Aki] left behind, and the fact that the stables being empty allowed us to get into the breakroom underneath. Which–”

Nope. Not yet. Not the time for theories about that, not the time for discussion of anything other than murder. One mystery at a time. Stay focused.

“…Anyways. It makes me wonder…if [Aki] would have needed to get a vehicle working in order to escape. Benny said something about, um, lifeboats? Which…she said she didn’t mean literally, but still implies the existence of some kind of emergency exit for Gambit’s employees.” As she says it though, she does another sweep of the room. “…Oh. But [Aki] isn’t like the rest of them, she’s…one of us. Might they have left her behind…?”

There’s a pause. It looks for a second like she might have something else to say on that, but she decides against it. Moves on, looks backs towards Bams.

“It’s not like they were always phasing through things over there, though. Up until, um, a couple hours ago when all this started that’s where they lived. [Runa] – uh.” She takes a second to sigh, just so Gambit knows how disappointed she is in these Goofy Ass Names. “…Seemed surprised she was suddenly going through things over there. We couldn’t touch anything there because we aren’t…of Summit. To borrow, um…“ She gestures towards Maverick. She will not say Banana. ”…Your way of phrasing it. Nor are the ‘dead’ anymore, for lack of a better word. We’re all back on the same side of that coin now, and I don’t know that it’s ever been as simple as dead and alive.“

#ic

[mainsrouges]

clorn on the cob || 5.1 || anastasia || re: scourge, valerio, runa

There’s too much happening in Anastasia’s head right now.

(The sketches. The flier on the desk. Something about a higher purpose. This isn’t where we usually are, this isn’t how we usually sit, where are Bams and Seattle? Are they okay? What about the others? It can’t be this easy, bringing the dead back to life, but they’re here and it’s all out of order now, and the fact that we were able to get over there, what does any of it mean, and how did Aki and Mothman and Claire get here and why are there still empty seats, it can’t be as simple as the people who are meant to be there being dead anymore, and what about–)

Reset. Reorganize. Focus on one thing at a time. Don’t start shouting out theories (I knew there had to be something to the reset idea, but I didn’t think it would be–), don’t take things too far off track (Because someone still killed Aki and someone still killed Mothman and that probably shouldn’t have even been possible, but–), just focus.

Bams is right. (She usually is.) The murders are a good place to start.

“…[Aki] being the black horse makes the most sense to me, but it doesn’t seem like she’s able to confirm or deny that for us. There was salt on her arms too, um. Whatever that…tells us. Further confirming that she was messing around with the car, I guess? But I think we should, uh…as long as we’re assuming that the notebook belonged to her, I think it’s important we take what it said into consideration, even though some of it was pretty…um…”

Mean. It was mean. She’s pulling out her own notebook while she talks, laying things out in front of her in the usual Anastasia fashion. Seems she’s taking the codename thing in stride, though she does eye the one in front of her with a certain disdain. Corn. Jesus Christ.

“I really can’t stand this anymore. It’ll all just go again, huh! Well. I know one solution.” She pauses after reading it, looks around the table again. “Now, I’m not saying she planning on killing someone herself to trigger a trial, or…if that even would have done anything, considering that she’s not, um. Wasn’t, at least, officially part of our group. At the time. But it seems, um – strange, doesn’t it? That one of us would have planned to kill her when we…only just found out she was here to begin with.”

She looks at Valerio. Clicks her pen, starts writing something without paying much attention to the page.

“…Could she have been killed during the investigation, though…? If it was…electrocution that killed her and not the fall from the roof, someone would have needed to be up there to…get her off the roof. And their group would have noticed if they were missing. She was definitely killed after [Mothman], and most likely…not long before the investigation started, but I don’t know if it could have been during…”

She frowns, bites her lip. Staying focused is hard right now. Harder than it usually is. Her attention is quickly drawn up towards Runa on the other side of the table, eyes widening slightly with concern as she realizes that she’s clearly upset – she does her best to offer a smile.

“…I’d say it’s nice to have you here, but. These things usually kind of suck. So. Sorry feels a little more appropriate.“

#hi rb spam i really need to get all this on ana's blog #ic

[mainsrouges]

sorry im posting this here its just mportant everyone sees the door stabbing