BETRAYAL AT THE HOUSE ON THE GAME TOWER - Session 9

[idolpro]

Who: Exael and the rest of you lot
When: To be inserted into the timeline after completion
What: Betrayal at the House on the Game Tower

[ The GAME ALERT and map show on the screen of your phones— idols, you know what to do!

The Game Tower elevator doors are open to receive, and close once they have you in their confines and the broadcast monitors click on. You can keep an eye on the city further and further below you, as watch with your host's introduction to today's game.

At the very least it's not Mukuro's face on the screen this time. Instead it's Exael again, pigtails bouncing as she hops up from a grand low bow— it looks like they cut part of her broadcast spiel for you guys. With a showman's flair, she twirls and splays her arms as the camera zooms out to focus on a grand mansion, more Hollywood glamor than anything belonging in Tokyo.

"Summer has come to Tokyo, and so has the season's specialty: The Trial of Courage! Step right up, and charge right in because waiting won't help you at all! Here is a place even angels fear to tread! Azzy's very own, The House of Mirth and Betrayal! This place has a sordid past that casts a shadow as long as the valley of death, and soon our Idols will be adding their own pages to the tale!"

The elevator stops atop the central tower of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government building and then lurches unpleasantly, wrenching itself out of where elevators ought to go. The sudden movement jolts you, and when the doors open you spill out into into a room.

Hopefully, with not too much time missing. ]

Comments

[deicider]

[Swallows; not sure what to make of this display. They take his hand, try to surge for an attack—and just end up half-falling into his arms]

[eatsthecanary]

[ fuck yes. whisky is LIVING

he wraps his arms around them, nuzzling up against their jaw, their neck. not hurting them, at least not yet, just seeking that attention. ]

[deicider]

[They don't have space to use the spear so it's just their bare hands. They twist in Whiskey's arms, body jerky with adrenaline—and fear, actual fear; if their leg keeps not cooperating—Doesn't matter, Whiskey is right there and Cardigan is going to try and bare-hand strangle him with a 3. Their heart beat is off the walls.]

[eatsthecanary]

[ 3! so let's say they get their hands around his neck but it's not strong enough of a hold that Whisky's deterred, in fact just pressing forward, shifting his own hands to grab their elbows and --

pauses to try and bite and then sink his teeth into their shoulder, near the crook of their neck where he had been nuzzling. ]

[deicider]

Ah!

[It takes a long moment for the particularities of the pain to settle in. Before they realize what Whiskey is doing. It clicks into place: Whiskey had said he didn't need to kill them, so what he's doing... Cardigan shudders, body taut, anticipating the moment when Whiskey's teeth tear—it's all they can think about, pulse rabbit-fast, skin hot but they're frozen in place by the need to know, what it'll feel like.]

[eatsthecanary]

[ he exhales out through his nostrils, at feeling them taut, feeling that anticipation from the way Cardigan's body tenses under him. his teeth sink in deeper still, and it's not easy, human teeth are blunt -- not quite meant for this -- which already mean there's quite a bit of tearing, hot blood welling up under and around his teeth, staining Cardigan's clothes.

and then he does tear, jerking his head to the side in a violent movement to be able to sever the flesh, pull back with the chunk in his mouth with a satisfied sound. ]

[deicider]

Ah, ah—

[They grab Whiskey's torn shirt, hunching forward. They're never this loud, not in bed or in battle, but here they are, panting with the intensity of it. It feels like a fevers stolen over their whole body, but it might just be the hot blood running down their neck and chest.]

[eatsthecanary]

[ he swallows, thickly, after chewing it some to be a more manageable piece. nuzzles at the clothes on their shoulder, wiping some of the blood off but also just, catlike in the desire for attention again. ]

See? That wasn't so bad. And now I'll have a piece of you with me.

[deicider]

[Well. They do 'trust' Whiskey. They're not really together enough for talking, sagging against Whiskey's body.]

[eatsthecanary]

[ he clings, tight to them for a second -- there's a quiet sound, that rumbling, purring sort of noise -- before he licks his lips and gets up, untangling from them reluctantly. ]

If you stay here and hide no one else will hurt you. And I can find you later, alright?

[deicider]

[Fuck. No, they need to stop him. But their leg is dead weight. All of their limbs are barely responding.

One last desperation tactic:]

Don't go!

[eatsthecanary]

[ he's stepping over to the bed to pick out a suit jacket, one to replace his currently ruined clothing.


-- he does. genuinely look a little conflicted at that, cat ears going flat, but he's grabbing for his knife and murmuring; ]

It's okay. I'll come back for you. But I don't want anyone else to leave me, either.

[ -- and he's heading for the door. ]

[deicider]

[Punches the floor once he's gone, but it's another few minutes before they can push themself to their feet.]

[deicider]

[Coming back through later, Cardigan writes one word on the wall, in their blood:

lake]