WEEK SIX: EXECUTION

[hellscapes]

Hello, deadlings.

We gather here today for the most somber occasion. The weekend "fun" isn't over just yet.

On Sunday morning, you'll soon hear a sound coming from the dock. There's a large ferry waiting for you, and even if you resist you'll eventually find yourself compelled to climb aboard and set off on a short voyage. The islands around you look fairly blurry, but you don't go very far before you stop at a slab of land with two large buildings stationed. You won't be able to look at the one on the right now, the one you've come to know as the trial bar. Instead, your feet navigate you to the building on the left as the door creaks open. On your way in, you notice some posters hung beside the door, advertising today's event.

Inside is a bar. It's pretty swanky in comparison to the others you've seen, tables and chairs arranged comfortably for everyone to have a seat and spread out however they'd like. The bar is fully stocked with all kinds of alcohol along with an arrangement of bar food for anyone who's feeling a bit peckish. At the head of the room, there appears to be a stage washed in red lights with a wide area for performances.

At a table in the corner all six demons are gathered around. All of them appear to have left behind their work uniforms and are clustered together in a dark corner, watching the stage with various ranges of interest.

As you find your seats and get yourself something to drink, darkness begins to fill the bar and a banner unfurls over the stage.

TODAY'S PERFORMER:
FILBO
10AM
Enjoy the show

No matter where you look, you will find that Filbo is not amongst you. But there isn't time to look further before the lights dim and the curtains draw.

😈 FULL NAVIGATION 😈
🍸 Locations 🍸 Profiles 🍸 Statuses 🍸 Audiences 🍸 Private Convos 🍸 Murder Proposals 🍸 Reporting

Comments

[engineers]

[ baby. he gets it, honestly; he can only imagine being in the same position, watching this from the side. so many times, he's been stuck behind a screen or a ship or god forbid a pair of doors, but he's never had to watch something like this happen. only be the main actor on the stage.

the tightness of thancred's hand is fine. if they're a little wet, that's okay too. he keeps his hand on top of his, nudges his fingers between his knuckles lightly, not really caring if they're damp or bloodied.

very quietly: ] Give me your hand. [ and there's an unspoken please there, the gesture gentle. he remembers coming back dizzy and in pain from his own, remembers seeing the way lin's hand was cut up by glass and aching with it, the idea of one more pain caused by himself when it was all said and done.

it's almost over. it's heartwrenching, to watch filbo encourage rynlan, too. it's almost done. ]

[onlythans]

[Boy, did he fucking call it or what. Triage.

As the tendrils begin to constrict, and Ryn's remark begins to fade into silence, he murmurs something of his own under his breath.]

Shorel'aran, ker-m.

[engineers]

[ gay people that speak the same language.... i see ]