Only a couple of people (literally two) clicked on the poll (Yes, there is a poll on my profile, for the freetimes. I'll reset it after each murder), but I went ahead and did the one that was in the lead so far.
Also, I've never shipped OC's this hard before. It's a fun new experience!
"…and I wish you a productive day in Skypoint Academy!"
"Go fuck yourself, Monokuma!"
Right, I'm up. That means nobody managed to stab me in the middle of the night – which is not only good, but also quality assurance for the locks here. There's also someone knocking at the door; maybe I shouldn't have jumped the gun about not getting stabbed.
Nonetheless, I open the door, only to find Dylan, a large cardboard box in hand:
"Good morning, miss Doerner. Mind if I leave this here?"
"Depends. Is it a bomb?" I ask, snickering.
"While it would be a clever way to off someone, I lack the materials to craft explosives here," he replies with no sign of sarcasm in his voice.
"They teach 'pipe bombs 101' in butler school?"
"I'm no ordinary butler, miss," he grins, dropping the box in the corner of the room. I still didn't get a straight answer, by the way:
"I noticed that aside from shampoo and towels, our bathrooms were completely empty – I got miss DuCarde to help me assemble these boxes for everyone, they should have everything a gentleman, or as the case may be, gentlewoman, might need for personal care."
"That's… nice of you."
"If there's any foul play involved, I will take full responsibility, miss," he assures me, his tone indicating I wasn't the first person who didn't trust his good intentions this morning.
"Well, thank you. I was planning on getting some toothpaste anyway…"
Actually, I wasn't. With what's been going on, I completely forgot my morning routine. Not that I had much of one before this whole killing game thing began, but I feel obligated to protest the fact that I'm put in an environment that doesn't encourage the acquiring of good habits – just what kind of educational facility is this, huh?
"No problem, miss. Now onto mister Millner's room…"
"Huh?"
"His real name – Ulrick Millner."
"Hold up, his name wasn't Silver?"
"Sorry for ruining the magic…" he trails off, slightly amused with my surprise.
"Son of a… eh, never mind. Thanks."
"Of course," he bows, then returns to the hallway, picking up another box and walking off to the side.
Alone once more, I lie back onto my bed, somewhat grateful that the clothes here included pajamas. Not that I'm particularly shy about my body – I'm quite proud of it, in fact – but something about Miles makes me want to be on my best behavior. Maybe that's why he's the Ultimate Butler…
Some time passes before I scrounge up the willpower to head out and get breakfast. There's still a box in front of Farran's room, but our benevolent butler's nowhere to be seen. I knock on the door:
"The door's rigged to blow, go away!"
"Miles was handing out bathroom supplies he got from the storage room – if you don't claim this box right away, I'll take it back."
"BOOM!" he shouts, slightly muffled, then pauses for a moment, only to speak once again: "See, what if I really did rig the door?"
"I'd be dead," I deadpan, "You proud of yourself?"
I hear the click of the door unlocking, and a frazzled looking Farran opens the door – sunglasses on his face, as usual: "Strange, you speak like Solvia, but you're much easier on the eyes – I think I like you better."
"You two got serious problems, huh?"
"More of a gentleman's agreement," he grins, "we keep each other on our toes, to make sure we're ready if someone tries to make a move."
Huh. When he puts it that way, it kind of makes sense. He's a natural leader, and she's naturally suspicious of everyone – they wouldn't be the Ultimates they are if that wasn't the case. It's a strange match, sure, but it could work.
"So, about that box?" he asks, before I can get too much into the logic of their supposed agreement.
"Yeah, right here."
He packs it away with military precision, returning to the door quicker than I would reach the handle:
"Report in for breakfast. I'll be over in a bit, alright?"
"Yes, sir…" I sigh, rolling my eyes at the military jargon. He notices, keeping the Cheshire grin on his face before stepping back and closing the door. It clicks locked the moment it does so.
So much for good neighborly relations… then again, maybe I'm expecting too much. Putting anyone in a cage, no matter how pretty, makes them behave erratically. Half the reason Enoshima's killing game worked was because she kept their movements limited so well, after all.
We'll get better, I think. We just might beat this.
The rest of the way to the dining area is empty, and I arrive to a semi-filled room fairly quickly:
"There you are!" Lucille smiles, motioning to the empty seat next to hers: "join me for déjeuner?"
"Hey…" I return the smile, deciding to take her up on her offer. Only then do I notice that the table is set, but lacking any food save for bread:
"Uh, did I miss the memo about the prison-wide fasting?"
"No," the nod, the smile, "monsieur Lucas wanted to make breakfast for all of us."
"Hopefully, he's not a terrible chef," Christine adds, from way over on the other side of the table, and I realize I haven't seen her at all since… well, since she was wearing armor.
She's not wearing it any more, of course, instead wearing that dreadful academy uniform Monokuma left in triples in what I now assume to be everyone's wardrobes. While I wouldn't be caught dead wearing the damn thing, she looks perfectly content to rock the look, bright orange hair matching well enough with the uniform's red ribbon-thing.
I don't know, man, I'm a runner, not a fashionista.
"Hey, didn't see you there."
"You implying I'm short?" she tilts her head, pouting, "you looking for trouble, runner girl?"
"What? No, I just…"
"Just kidding!" she laughs, bringing a hand to her mouth, "should've seen the look on your face!"
"It was a funny one," Lucille agrees, still chuckling. I don't see how my face can be that funny…
I grumble to myself for a moment, deciding to look at the last member of our little breakfast club – the vigilante.
He seems somber as usual, and the intensity I noticed yesterday is once again present, but there's only so intense a man can be while he's waiting for breakfast. There's a trace of a smirk on his face, probably due to me falling for the cosplayer's teasing, but otherwise he seems pretty detached.
"Hey, Kenji, how'd that thing yesterday go?"
"Thing?" Christine perks up, "Mai did a thing? With who?"
"We're good," he replies, giving a faint nod, "nothing suspicious."
"Oh, that kind of thing," she sighs, disappointed, "c'mon, where's the prison romance?"
Lucille blushes at that, and I fail to miss it. Was she serious before? Can't be… I mean, we're stuck in this place, how could she…
"And here they are!" Matt announces, walking out of a kitchen with a huge stack of pancakes on a plate. I'm actually impressed – it's been a while since I saw this much food at one place that wasn't a refugee shelter.
"Alright!" Christine cheers, and I'm only slightly inclined to join in.
There's a notable shift in attitude since yesterday, and I can't help but think the wall is to blame, or thank, I guess. People seem to be upbeat, and I'm kind of worried that it managed to surprise me this much.
"So, Lucille…" I start, but then realize there's really no way I can open the topic I want to.
"Oui?"
"Want to hang out later?"
"Sure!"
It's really hard for me to feel anything but genuine like for this girl, and that's what worries me. A disarming personality is no different from a loaded gun in a situation like this one, and miss DuCarde comes heavily armed.
Thus, in my infinite wisdom, I want to get the two of us alone in a room… and it's gotten weird on me already. Not a bad weird, mind, but the kind that leaves you feeling kind of hot and kind of worried about your ability to judge good from bad ideas.
Still, it should be fun.
Freetime: Lucille 1
We decide to hang out in the common room, the same place we acquired our precious student ID's – those little bits of misery I have to tot around because I'd otherwise be locked out of the only bathroom I intend on using in this building.
We crash on the lipstick-red couch, looking over at the window with the scuff marks – Seina noticed that the glass was unusually scratched for that panel alone, then went off in search of something that might've caused the unfortunately cosmetic-only damage.
Lucille crosses her legs the way dudes do, leaning back and looking really satisfied about herself for some reason, while I merely sit at my side, unable to relax the way I did with Katozumi:
"So… uhm…"
"You are wondering about my flirtations, no?" she smiles. It comes so easy to her; I can't help but be jealous. Like she's not really stuck here, but flying free somewhere outside – it's both inspiring and unnerving.
"Well, yeah," I deadpan. Forthrightness, a forgotten virtue.
"I am entirely honest," she laughs, stretching her arms, "if it bothers you, I will stop, immediatement."
"But… how can you...?"
"Think about romance at a time like this?" she continues my sentence, never once losing the amused yet kind expression.
I nod, a bit more comfortable. Just a bit, though. I'll still deny this conversation ever happened the moment it's over, though.
"But Ellie, is there anything more sacred than amour, in whatever form we find it?"
She turns towards me, tucking her legs under her, there's a focus to her admittedly charming countenance that I can't help but be drawn in:
"For one's family, for one's friends, for the pretty brunette that came in the elevator, covered in confetti…"
Oh right, that happened.
"I've seen so many people find happiness in this world, even after la tragedie; it is hope, of course, but it is also the connection with someone, someone special, that drives you…" she trails off.
"At least, it is so for moi."
And she feels such a connection with me? For real? But… how?
Forget the fact that we barely know each other; there's the whole killing game thing, as well as the fact that she never even bothered to ask me if I'm even into women…
… and I can't answer that!
It's what bothers me the most! I grew up conservative, believing in the 'nuclear family' even though my own was as far detached from one as they go. I went to church, I crushed on boys… I thought…
"Are you alright? Is this too much? Should I leave?" she lists off, preparing to stand up. There's concern in her eyes, discomfort even.
"No!" the word escapes my mouth like a reflex. I cover my mouth immediately, trying in vain to erase the sound, but it doesn't help. Her eyes soften, and she tries to offer up a reassuring smile – it's the first time I see her failing to do so.
"Look, I just… well…"
"How about this?" she offers, seeing that I'm struggling, "I shall leave the flirting to you, only responding like a blushing damsel when the compliment is outstandingly fitting."
And just like that, the confusion and heaviness around my heart is dispelled. I'm not going to pretend like she doesn't have a way to get to me… but I'm not going to just block her off either. She's right – there's few truly precious connections in this despair-filled world, and there's no harm in seeing where this takes us, is there?
A bit of casual flirtation, until I get a better idea of what it is.
"Alright, I'm cool now."
"No you're not," she smiles, "you're a mess."
"Shh!" I hiss, "don't remind me!"
She chuckles, shaking her head. Maybe it's the French blood or something, but I really can't describe Lucille with anything other than 'pretty'. There's a light in her emerald green eyes, and it must be enchanting me, since I never-ever described anyone's eyes as emerald before this, and her hair… Maybe I ought to save those fantasies for later.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" I speak up, deciding to change the topic.
"But of course!" she chirps in reply.
"I'm kind of going around asking people about their work with the Foundation, so I thought…"
"La mission is not a good topic if you're trying to charm a lady, Ellie."
I feel the blush, and I can tell she's enjoying every moment of it:
"But I see no reason to play coy – 12th."
"What? For real? You work under the Great Gozu?"
"Is this so strange?" she tilts her head, more than a little confused, "we work…"
"Infrastructure, I know…" I laugh, "But c'mon, you see a man like that, and you're hitting on me?"
"Oui," she shrugs.
I might just fall for this girl. Hope save me, I might just fall.
There's no doubt that I grew a bit closer with Lucille, maybe too close for the brief time we knew each other, but I think she's worth it. Though I was flustered most of the time, she did reveal quite a lot about the kind of person she is… and about the kind of person I might be.
It's scary… but also kind of exciting. I don't know… It doesn't feel wrong, and I'll trust that.
Author's note time:
First of all, I understand your pain - not seeing your character. I have it easy, since I made the protagonist, but writing over a dozen characters in a single scene is impossible without 30% of the text becoming 'x said'.
I wish I could've slapped plot armor on the characters I wanted to survive, but save for one who I really didn't have the lack of heart to kill, everyone else's roles were assigned randomly by an online randomizer.
I'm writing this for the glory of despair (of course), but also to work on my dialogue and drama skill. Please, it's your opinions I want to hear, to see how I can make this the best story I can make it.
There isn't a detail in this story that's there for filler's sake. I'm being super-careful to pick my words and set up murder mysteries that are more-or-less believable and solvable.
Finally, I ought to mention that the story format is classic - 5 murders, 5 trials, no nonsense aside from the freetimes, which may be just for fun, or may advance subplots.
That should be it for now. Hope you enjoyed the (surprisingly quick) chapter!
