GRAVEYARD 2.0

[retellers]

GRAVEYARD Well, that sucked. But no matter what your death was like—whether it was something peaceful or traumatic, you'll find yourself waking in a completely white room on the floor. Small and empty, there isn't anything else there besides an open door to walk through. But before you do that, you'll probably notice that whatever injuries you may have had, including whatever may have been the death blow, are now gone. That's exciting. Stepping out of the room, it seems that you're in a large... house? with three different floors. Everything from floor, ceiling to furniture is completely white, except for the drawings that are plastered to the walls in each room. These are all colorful, drawn in colored pencils and crayon, and resemble a child's drawing. The other notable thing are the windows. While they're present all around the building, looking out of them only shows TV static. Besides that, everything is furnished with the absolute bare minimum of each room. The first floor is all typical common areas one would find in a house. There's a kitchen, living room area, laundry room, dining room, and a main hallway where the stairs are. There are also helpful drawings in these rooms that show the rooms much more lavishly decorated than they actually are. There's a door that appears to be the way to exit the building, it's locked. The second floor consists of nothing but twenty bedrooms. Each room has one queen sized bed, an empty dresser, and an attached bathroom with only a sink, toilet, and shower. Like the first floor, each bedroom has drawn pictures that show it looking much more lavish than it actually does. Thanks for nothing, artist! The third floor only has two rooms. One appears to be a home office with nothing but a desk and two chairs, one behind it and one in front of it. While there's blank pieces of paper and crayons on the desk, the note that was previously there is gone. The other room is much larger, and it's completely empty save for the many drawings lining its walls— in fact, the walls are covered in them, much more than in any other room. On closer inspection, though, it seems like these aren't actually drawings? The papers seem to be showing scenes from the living area. Everything from inside the hotel to the areas beyond the bridge are visible here. However, when curfew hits on Thursday nights, they revert to being normal drawings! Except for the fact that they're all drawings of stick figures being murdered in various ways. Well. At least there's plenty of things to draw with, if you get bored. Also, a handy link to the previous post.

NAVIGATION locations ₓ˚. statuses *+:｡ ic profiles :ₓo ic rules ･ﾟﾟ･｡ audience requests murder proposals ｡✧o private conversations ･ﾟo｡ curfew ･ﾟ✧ memories

Comments

[exercisms]

[Is it Ritsu? He's not sure. But he'll look up and try to see this person's face.]

Did you mistake me for someone? Could the person you're looking for be Hikaru-san?

[heartablaze]

[You're my b̴̭̗̦̂̈́̈́̀̓i̴̡̢̗̭̥̇͊͋̍g̶̢͌͊ ̵̞̰̺̲̫̆͒̈́̆ḅ̶̛̤̽̃̾͘ͅr̶̥̠͙͍̎̆̍o̷̪̰̮̓̊t̸̠̀̈̂h̴̦̝͍͌̐̚e̷̻̱̠̝̐ř̴̮͐͝, aren't you? Who else would I be talking to?

It flickers again, to someone in the under layers of a kendo uniform, of straight cut hair of deep, deep brown. Is this person younger? Older? Does he remember?

"Ritsu" cocks his head to the side a little bit.

People have got to make up their minds in this world, Mob, and they've got to do it for themselves.

You can stick to your decisions, right?

Next to Mob, Hikaru's shoulders draw up, her expression tensing, something about the nostalgia of the moment, even if unfamiliar, makes one feel...

Homesick.]

[exercisms]

[He doesn't answer right away, just glances at Hikaru.]

. . . Yes, I can.

[heartablaze]

[There's the same smile from before, calm but slightly strained.

Good.

You've got ä̷̼́ ̵̰̤̹͔̳̏̃̂̀l̸̝̠̓͌̚͘ȏ̶̺͓̪̆͌̽̅n̸̗͙̄͐̆g̴̗̈́̑͗̋ ̵̮̥͖̹̯͗́̀̍̕l̶̮̦͖̈́̈̓î̵̫̄̀́͆f̸͓͑̿ĕ̴̦͒͛̕ ahead of you, you know?

Hikaru's free hand slips to her mouth, her eyes screwing shut.

To one side echoes the sounds of laughter, of the taste of sweets in the mouth and of the arms of someone deeply loved holding you close. To the other is the crack of lightning, the flash of blood against fingertips, the feeling of walking forward only for another part of you to disintegrate with every step.

Ritsu hums, his eyes softening.

You never told us what you wanted to do for your b̶i̸r̵t̵h̸d̶a̷y̴. I know things have been rough. But you should at least end the summer with something that can help you smile a little.]

[exercisms]

It doesn't matter what we do, does it?

[Because he knows this isn't his memory. He couldn't say what Hikaru would have wanted, if she won't speak for herself.]

The only thing that matters is we're all together.

[heartablaze]

[Together. Ritsu's smile grows a little more genuine.

From behind him, Mob will feel someone else come to throw their arms around his shoulders, to hold him tight, to tell him they're worried, as a third screeches into the room and practically rips Mob from their hands saying the same thing, passing the boy around like hot potato and fussing at him.

Ritsu himself is becoming indistinguishable, replaced by a man of around twenty, while a man slightly younger and a boy of high-school age currently assess him and ask him very seriously if anyone's been giving him a hard time. The highschooler looks on the edge of angry tears.

It can't be Ritsu. Because they're all older than you? Aren't they?

How old are you, anyway?

You're... the youngest, right? It feels like a foreign word in the mind, fuzzy and distant. But you feel safe, and you feel loved, in the arms of people who care about you.]

[exercisms]

[Ritsu is younger than him, but mature enough that they're practically the same age. Still, if he imagines having an older brother, the kind of person who'll give him advice and makes him feel safe, he pictures someone else.

But this memory is unfamiliar - being part of a big, close family like this. He can still register that this must be Hikaru's.]