Let's Play A Murder (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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letsplayamurder2025-07-06 02:51 am
letsplayamod) wrote in letsplayamurder2025-07-06 02:51 am
Arrival
The moment is a bit different for everyone. Perhaps you were just minding your own business somewhere, others may have been in more... dire circumstances. Regardless, you were approached by a figure you can't quite picture, and they offered you an accord; in exchange for aiding them in the healing of a world lost to chaos, you would be granted something almost unheard of. Godhood.
And each of you said yes, more or less.
A blurry hand, shifting and rippling, reaches out to you. You feel a glow of warmth, unlike anything you've known before. As soon as you think you can describe it, you wake up.
The room you're in is plainly furnished, but it's about the size of a small flat. Plenty of room to stretch your legs. Don't get too comfortable, however. On the bedside table each room has is a letter; handwritten, it's wrapped around a bronze key. The lettering could only be described as the platonic ideal of 'neat and precise'.
If you are reading this, than our deal has been made. You've awoken in a place that will surely feel strange, so I want you to take some time to acclimate. Meet with the others. Breathe. I shall be along shortly.
-A
Whatever that means becomes more apparent as you step out of your housing and behold the world around you. The building you were in, and every piece of architecture you happen across, is blatantly pre-modern. Yet, something about it is otherworldly. Stone and iron and glass as far as the eye can see.
But above you was where the real questions were. It wouldn't be right to say the sun was shining on you now, nor would it be right to say it's the dead of night. Instead, the sky is a hazy mixture of both, wrapped in suffocating storm clouds that are threatening rain. Everywhere you look, into the horizon, it's the same.
Welcome home. Take your time and explore. Nobody ever said godhood was easy.
And each of you said yes, more or less.
A blurry hand, shifting and rippling, reaches out to you. You feel a glow of warmth, unlike anything you've known before. As soon as you think you can describe it, you wake up.
The room you're in is plainly furnished, but it's about the size of a small flat. Plenty of room to stretch your legs. Don't get too comfortable, however. On the bedside table each room has is a letter; handwritten, it's wrapped around a bronze key. The lettering could only be described as the platonic ideal of 'neat and precise'.
-A
Whatever that means becomes more apparent as you step out of your housing and behold the world around you. The building you were in, and every piece of architecture you happen across, is blatantly pre-modern. Yet, something about it is otherworldly. Stone and iron and glass as far as the eye can see.
But above you was where the real questions were. It wouldn't be right to say the sun was shining on you now, nor would it be right to say it's the dead of night. Instead, the sky is a hazy mixture of both, wrapped in suffocating storm clouds that are threatening rain. Everywhere you look, into the horizon, it's the same.
Welcome home. Take your time and explore. Nobody ever said godhood was easy.
i am so sorry for this little shit
I am?
[Continuing acting coy here.
Sniff sniff. Smells like his eggs are almost done, so while he's juggling the apple and knife, Ranma kicks off his slip-on shoe as he reaches his leg over to.
... use his foot like a third hand, using it to hold the pan's handle with surprising dexterity and flip the eggs up and down in the air. Okay either he's intentionally egging her on (pun intended) or he's the dumbest mfer alive. Both are very likely.]
no subject
[She's nervous but god. She knows when men are teasing her! And this guy seems like the type to tease on purpose. Ugh. And she fell for it.]
I bet you're some kind of circus juggler or something.
no subject
[excuse you he isn't that little he's 5'5" >:/ the asshole part's spot on, proven further when he sticks his tongue out mockingly.]
And you're a worrywart.
[two can play the snark and insults game]
Close but nope! [
brushingasidethefacthecalledhimselfaclownjustnowhe stops juggling the apple and knife, catching the former in his hand and tossing the latter into the air. Luckily for Wendy, it doesn't set off a convoluted rube goldberg-esque sequence that'd lead this jackass's face melting off on the hot skillet, but instead lands safely in the knife block.] Martial artist.