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.
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........
............oh.]
I am Wakaba Mutsumi. The... The...
"The Doll Graveyard."
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Mutsumi-chan, then. [ after a moment's deliberation, she goes with that instead of wakaba-san. they're ostensibly all on the same footing here, after all, and mutsumi seems to be quite a bit younger. though... ] Are you all right? There must be a kitchen or something, somewhere... maybe I can make us some tea?
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That sounds... nice.
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If you like, yes. Though I don't know if I can provide cookies or anything like that... so, why don't we go look?
[ and she'll start leading on in a direction after some thought. trying to provide a distraction, trying to keep her talking: ]
So, how old are you?
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Fourteen. [Lots of people assume that she's younger for some reason.] And... you?
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Nineteen.
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...you seem older, somehow... younger, too.
[...a slight gaze cast to the statues.]
Sorry. That didn't make any sense.
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It makes quite a bit of sense, actually. Most might not notice that.
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... It's complicated. I'm not sure I always understand it myself. [ and again, almost scoffed: ] I am one yet many.
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It's like a role you play, except... sometimes the scripts write themselves.
I... I lost all mine a long time ago.
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[ she mulls over how to explain, though. ]
... I write the script. I direct the scene. But I don't feel like "I'm" playing the parts, and the actors have their own opinions, sometimes. Does that make sense?
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I have Saki, so... it's okay.
...or... [She somehow seems smaller in this instant.] Had her.
I need to get back.
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Mutsumi-chan, it's okay. Panicking won't help anything, so... follow me? We can relax a little, and then find out more. How does that sound?
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Mutsumi breathes deeply and relaxes, then nods.]
Thank you, Yasuda-san.
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Please, think nothing of it. [ with a nod, she takes mutsumi's hand. ] Shall we go, then?
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