BETRAYAL AT THE HOUSE ON THE GAME TOWER - END

[idolpro]

Who: Traitors and Survivors, Exael
Where: The Game Tower, and leaving it
When: Day 25, morning-- it appears that game lasted the bulk of day 24 into the night.

[ Abruptly, the nightmare ends.

You, in the rooms you kept restarting in, awoke. Before you can even panic, before even despair, the elevator doors were open in front of you to take you downstairs again. It could be a trap, sure, but your head is quiet— those fucking ghosts are gone. You also appear to be wet like someone dumped, perhaps, a bucket of holy water on you while you were asleep. All your wounds are gone, and you have been left bereft of any physical damage from your ordeal.

Unless you choose to take some with you. Nothing prevents you from taking any of your spoils downstairs with you, if you wish it, though all revolvers will have no ammo.

On the screens as you descend back to the lobby, Exael is clapping on screen, broadcast showing her in the mansion's entrance hall. "And so close the gates to this forbidden garden, and so closes this chapter of our story! Just as—" her hologram flickers as she doesn't seem to notice, chattering still to the cameras, "so too will—" fzzt, fzzt. Static, flickering, and then back into focus, "So give them all a hand! Everyone, you've done well! You stand before us still, ready to present us all with more marvels after having survived such grisly wonders with—" "—in the balance!"

As she speaks, she doesn't notice a figure approaching behind her. He's in a slick suit with both hands in his pockets, and you've seen him before— his portrait is in the foyer. His shoes are utterly silent as he walks across the marble floor, till he's right at her back.

"Audience and actors alike, we've been blessed with—" Her hologram doesn't flicker this time, but she stops speaking. Her eyebrows furrow as she tries to figure out what's amiss, and only belatedly begins to slowly look over her shoulder.

"Exael," he says with a friendly hand on her solidifying hologram shoulder, the effect spreading beneath his touch, "We need to have a chat about your requisitions paperwork."

She tilts her head, eyes wide with a finger tapping against her cheek as she thinks, "I didn't do any!"

"Yes," he agrees, smiling with all his teeth. "I know."

The broadcast cuts. The doors open to let you leave. ]

Comments

[fiberoptic]

[God, this really WAS a job for D instead of him. Awkwardly, Nate tries to ramble?]

Uhm... I wish I were better at lightening the mood. I don't think D's rubbed off on me very much in that regard. He'd probably have some crack to say about rubbing off, though...

That was. Probably inappropriate. Sorry.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[It probably was, but at least this wet sound seems like it might be trying to be a laugh?]

[So. Progress???]

[fiberoptic]

[Okay that was some progress. Maybe a bit more walking while he tries to dig deep with the talking.]

It's strange, not having you being the chatty one. I don't think I appreciated what a skill that was, on its own - just, talking. You always did have too much energy - hard for an old man to keep up.

Wouldn't call this an improvement though. But, you could double as extra weight for me to benchpress. Could finally get some real use outta you. [Teasing, of course]

[crossmyheartandhope]

Dude. Rude.

[This isn't quite a smile, but it is... making an attempt?]

[fiberoptic]

[There's a hint of the Hurricane he knows and loves]

I know, it's an imperfect plan. I'd have to fatten you up to add more weight to my lifting routine.

[crossmyheartandhope]

I dunno.

The leg's... the leg's pretty heavy.

[fiberoptic]

That's true. Does make you a little off balance.

[He attempted a small smile.] Maybe I can get you some soup for your throat. What kind do you like?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Honestly, any kind of soup sounds amazing. Any kind of food does.]

[It's been ages - long enough that the idea that he gets to ask for something and actually get it kind of takes him off guard.]

[fiberoptic]

[This is an unusually long time to answer a favourite soup question.]

...Chicken?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Another beat too long. When he answers, his voice kind of breaks a little.]

Yeah. That - that sounds good.

[fiberoptic]

Okay. I think I can figure out chicken soup.

I'm not sure how much I cooked, but there's a good chance we all eat nutrient paste in my dystopic shitball future.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep, shuddering breath in.]

...thanks.

[For trying. For even offering. For everything.]

[fiberoptic]

[UGHhhh his inner softy ached. Tries to muster up another reassuring smile for him]

That-- that's what dads do, right?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Welp, he's crying again. It's quieter now, though - tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, instead of the body-wrenching sobs from before.]

Y-yeah. That's what dads do.

[fiberoptic]

[Aw, damn.]

Hey, hey-- you're going to get dehydrated at this rate.

Guess we'll start with water first.

[crossmyheartandhope]

...gotta say. That sounds pretty good, too.

[It's that trying-to-be-a-smile expression again.]

[fiberoptic]

Okay. Let me grab a glass from the kitchen--

[crossmyheartandhope]

What?

[His eyes go a lot wider and a whole lot warier. He whips his head around to check and see where they are, and where they're going.]

N-no, that's - just. I don't. I can wait.

[fiberoptic]

[???]

What's wrong?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His voice is borderline desperate, and the tears well up so damn fast.]

I just want to go home!

[fiberoptic]

[oKAY HOLY CRAP. Nathan can identify a trigger when he sees it. Redoubling his efforts to reassure him]

Okay, it's fine. You won't have to go there, we'll just head straight back to dorm. Mori's probably done spreading out the blankets, we can all sleep out in the common room together...

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He kind of half-twists in Nathan's arms to pay attention to where they're going for the first time - making damn sure that they're heading toward the elevator and not anywhere else.]

[His chest is heaving like he can't get enough air, and all the tension that had bled away on the trip home is right the hell back.]

[fiberoptic]

[Nathan is just going to hold onto him EXTRA TIGHT to try and compensate. Leisurely walk was now just barely under a jog as he beelined for the elevator.]

Just hold on. You'll be home soon. I'm calling the elevator now. Just a little longer.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Ducks his head and nods, though the motion's sharp and jerky.]

[The deathgrip on Nathan's shirt doesn't lessen, and he is definitely hyper-attuned to where they're going now.]

[fiberoptic]

[Ding~ The elevator doors open. He gets in.]

Getting close. Hang on for a few more seconds. Just-- breathe, Hurricane. Just focus on taking deep breaths.