[Over the past handful of weeks, Brook's proven himself difficult to rattle. A hundred years of murdering people every day goes a long way toward inuring a guy to death, blood spatter, and the hopelessness of release. On someone else, that level-headedness might have been useful, given how heated things can get in investigations, trials, and even the weekly prisoner-run meetings.
Unfortunately, Brook just kind of sucks. He rarely has much to contribute materially, yeets himself out of emotional situations with extreme prejudice, and just. Well, there are cleverer people out there in world, who are better at putting two and two together. Brook's problem is that he doesn't even try. He doesn't pay a lot of attention to everything that's happening, because, to all appearances, he doesn't really care.
Or he didn't, anyway. Bit by bit since the first trial, he's started to put a little effort into connecting with his fellow captives. And he's always been low-key willing to lend a hand to those who make a good case for it. It's like all anyone has to do is actually ask.
To get back to the point, though, Brook hasn't historically reacted strongly to--well, anything. Two days ago, when their overseer delightedly presented them with her latest torture/threat/temptation--'the precious memories of your last few minutes with your deeeeeeeear families!'--when others came out of their simultaneously induced flashbacks reeling or in tears, he seemed mostly unaffected.
But the flashbacks repeat. Every hour, at a random time within the hour, everyone still alive gets to re-experience, with a perfection of detail far greater than memory allowed, the last time they saw their families. For some, it reminds them what's at stake beyond their own survival. Others take encouragement from the sight and sound of their loved ones to keep fighting the good fight against their captor. And others...
It's Thursday. They've had two days of this, with sleep the only escape. With the forced flashbacks impossible to predict, many of their number have taken to staying in their rooms as much as possible. But that can only last so long.
As always, the memory comes without warning, every part of it in bright, living detail. And this time, when they come out of it, Brook's crouched on the floor, arms and hands up protectively around his neck, breath unsteady.]
Location up to you, probably around mid-game; downtime/motive
Unfortunately, Brook just kind of sucks. He rarely has much to contribute materially, yeets himself out of emotional situations with extreme prejudice, and just. Well, there are cleverer people out there in world, who are better at putting two and two together. Brook's problem is that he doesn't even try. He doesn't pay a lot of attention to everything that's happening, because, to all appearances, he doesn't really care.
Or he didn't, anyway. Bit by bit since the first trial, he's started to put a little effort into connecting with his fellow captives. And he's always been low-key willing to lend a hand to those who make a good case for it. It's like all anyone has to do is actually ask.
To get back to the point, though, Brook hasn't historically reacted strongly to--well, anything. Two days ago, when their overseer delightedly presented them with her latest torture/threat/temptation--'the precious memories of your last few minutes with your deeeeeeeear families!'--when others came out of their simultaneously induced flashbacks reeling or in tears, he seemed mostly unaffected.
But the flashbacks repeat. Every hour, at a random time within the hour, everyone still alive gets to re-experience, with a perfection of detail far greater than memory allowed, the last time they saw their families. For some, it reminds them what's at stake beyond their own survival. Others take encouragement from the sight and sound of their loved ones to keep fighting the good fight against their captor. And others...
It's Thursday. They've had two days of this, with sleep the only escape. With the forced flashbacks impossible to predict, many of their number have taken to staying in their rooms as much as possible. But that can only last so long.
As always, the memory comes without warning, every part of it in bright, living detail. And this time, when they come out of it, Brook's crouched on the floor, arms and hands up protectively around his neck, breath unsteady.]
Fucking stop already!