118th ♫ | asking myself over and over – "have i won? has a new me been reborn?"

[phaiinein]

Welcome, Champions, to the Tulipa Residency Station, the #1 top voted temporary home away from home, currently orbiting the beautiful uninhabited planet of Seraphim #52973! You've been given the very exciting opportunity to test out our facilities for free over the next few weeks. All the food fun and relaxation you could ever want alongside a beautiful view, at absolutely no cost! If space makes you anxious, don't fret! We have an on-board therapist, the distinguished Doctor Maruki here to attend to your every need! Oh, you didn't agree to come here? You want to go home? There's a weird rule in your resident ID about murder? Well, I guess there is one teeny tiny catch... Welcome to the murdergame meme: Airlocked Gaiden edition! This is a meme-ified version of the Airlocked sequel/Round 6 AU cooked up by myself and Jess made available for everyone to goof around with. HAVE FUN, GANG TL;DR: we still have airlocked brainrot THE BASICS: This meme is for threads/plots/mingles/whatever set in an Airlocked-based AU as outlined above. You don't need to be Airlocked alumni to play here but some familiarity with the game's vibes and mechanics is useful! The game's setting is Tulipa Residency Station, a high class space station orbiting an unoccupied planet. It's basically a cross between a super fancy hotel and a super fancy cruise liner so feel free to make up fitting locations as you see fit. AND YES, YOU CAN HAVE ROOMMATES. Slap up a toplevel quickly outlining what's going on with your character in the tradition of murdergame memes gone by – you can also outline your character's role in the game, how long they last and maybe give ideas for progressive CR, memory reveals, that sort of thing! TAG AROUND AND HAVE FUN THAT PART IS NOT OPTIONAL PROMPTS: Downtime 1. Excuse Me, Who Are You? You've just woken up in this weird place and you have no idea what's going on. But hey -- maybe this stranger's more informed than you. Or maybe you can put your heads together and investigate what's going on. 2. Social Link Go! Well, if you're going to be stuck in here for however long, you might as well get to know the people stuck in here with you. You've got plenty of rooms to explore together and there's enough to do to keep you occupied. How do you plan on passing time without killing each other? 3. Vending Machine Woes Somewhere in this place there's a mysterious vending machine that spits out all manner of bizarre items and occasionally dispenses items that belong to you and the other people trapped here. You've got a fat stack of tokens and nothing to lose. 4. The Corners of My Mind So as it turns out, your lovely hosts have been fiddling with your memories. Maybe you're just discovering this now or maybe you've had a particularly upsetting memory regain you're dealing with. 4. Wildcard! GO WILD AND BE FREE (or as free as you can be here, anyways) PUTTING THE MURDER IN MURDER GAME 1. Motive Your mysterious overseer has decided there's not nearly enough murder going on and so they've ~helpfully~ given you a little push to do the deed. Maybe one of your loved ones is in danger, maybe they're offering more money than you could ever dream of or they're threatening to reveal your deepest darkest secrets. Whatever is it, would you kill for it? 2. Murder WELL APPARENTLY, YES. Are you a killer or are you being killed? Either way, someone's not walking away from this alive. 3. Body Discovery Rise and shine, murdergame! It's a brand new day and someone's dead. Better get investigating! 4. Trial You know how this one goes. Line up all your evidence and sniff out the killer -- or sit there and sweat and hope no one works out you're the murderer. Will they go down with a confession or put up a fight? 5. Afterparty You've survived another trial, but more of your friends have died. Even without the executions, trials are a stressful enough affair. It's time to destress and lick your wounds and support each other. 6. Mastermind It's the end. It's time to uncover all the mysteries behind this murder game -- and find out just who trapped you here. Are they really an unconnected party, or is the mastermind someone among you...? 7. Freedom Just as it says -- you're finally free, but at what cost? Have those you love been returned to you, or are you still reduced to just those who made it to the end? Are you on your own, or is anyone here to help you? And more importantly, how the hell are you going to get home? CHAMPION PROFILE CODE: <center><b>Name:</b> NAME | <b>TITLE (Super High School Level, Ultimate, Champion, etc)</b> <b>Age:</b> AGE | <b>Species:</b> SPECIES | <b>Occupation:</b> OCCUPATION <b>Likes:</b> LIKES <b>Dislikes:</b> DISLIKES <b>Traits:</b> A HANDFUL OF NOTABLE TRAITS <b>Trivia:</b> A PIECE OF TRIVIA</center>

Comments

[ensiforme]

[ What a pathetic little thing. It'd kill just as well as anything else if the tip found the right soft places in a body, but it's certainly not as elegant or fearsome as she is. Not that she has any place to talk about elegance right now.

Eglantine tightens its grip around the neck of the whisky bottle and unceremoniously swings it down to shatter against the edge of the bar. Alcohol bleeds down the side, filling the air heady vapors and when it points the remains of the bottle at him, the deadly jagged shards are like bared teeth. In the low light of the bar, amber sconces tracing over the edge of the glass in her unshaking hand, you can imagine just for a second how she must look with a real blade. ]

It does.

[ Matter of factly and with a smile. She tilts her head. ]

And you?

[deadplating]

[Of course it was the bottle. Why else would it be gripping it this entire time. Still, even if it's whiskey instead of wine his free hand goes to his neck and the scars there.

Fitting.

He tucked the handle of the pick in his palm, curling his fingers around it so the spike jabs between them.]

Not even a little.

[His gaze is manic, heated. But still so empty. But, better this than the hollow emptiness he had waiting for him otherwise]

[ensiforme]

[ A breath puffs out of her. It almost sounds like a laugh, though not exactly at Vince's expense - it's as though he's said something terribly clever and caught her off guard. As if it approves of him. ]

Yes. I thought that might be the case. You don't know what would make you happy, do you?

[ It doesn't give him a chance to response. Eglantine charges, taking a wild swipe at him with the broken bottle — close enough to be a threat but wide enough that he can easily step out of the way if he's quick enough. It's been so terribly long since anyone would play with her. And what's the fun in a one sided fight? ]

[deadplating]

[even he can see that coming, though his dodge is sloppy at best.

She's mocking him, she has to be. How can it not be? The actual tone of it's laugh, the almost playful swipe- that doesn't matter. Of course it's looking down on him for his broken jealous nature. It's what he would do if he was her.

He sneers]

Shut your mouth, you fucking pig.

[he spits before lunging, trying to catch her in her gut. But it's a pathetic attempt. A rabid cornered beast biting without direction. Violence fueled by pain, not guided by even a clumsy hand anymore]

[ensiforme]

[ Her answer is a merry laugh. She doesn't bother to step out of the way — it's such a clumsy blow that she doesn't even need to. Its free hand snaps around to snatch his wrist and redirect him, gripping on hard enough that when it tugs him along, Vince has no choice but to follow. It pivots them both on that point of connection and spins him like the leading partner in a dance. ]

Come now! You can do better than that, can't you?

[ She lets go at the arc of the spin, sending him stumbling back against the bar. Glass crunches under their feet and it beams at him. ]

Please don't disappoint me.

[deadplating]

[for a moment he thinks she actually stabbed him. There's no overt pain but the world is spinning. It makes the nausea come back full force. His head is pounding when he hits the bar, the few still standing bottles and glasses rattling, his free hand scrambling at the polished wood to steady himself.

He doesn't lose his pick at least, but it's a close thing.

It's embarrassing how easily she moves around him- he feels like a fumbling child. Like this is the first time he's held a knife. All he's doing is cutting off his own fingertips at this rate.

He can't even hear what it's saying. It's all blood in his ears. He comes at it again. Not just one attack but many stabs and slashes that do not fit his chosen tool. If nothing else he is very motivated]

[ensiforme]

[ Something in him is snapping and coming loose, isn't it? He's ungraceful and clumsy but when he comes at her, clawing and biting like he is, there's killing intent. It's not a case of temper and pressure, it's a desperate hunger. The kind you're born with. The kind that could be made into something worthwhile.

It sidesteps a few of his blows, clumsy as they are. But then in a flash, it raises the shattered bottle and catches the pick between two ragged edges. At crossed swords like that, Eglantine smiles and inclines her head. ]

If you were newer, you could be forged as well. You have what it takes to be Made.

[ The whiskey bottle pops and plinks as she shoves back against him. ]

But who would forge you? There's nobody left, is there?

[deadplating]

[ "There's nobody left, is there?"

Those words cut deeper than the bottle ever could. Ah, it really is a sword, isn't it?

His eyes sting and burn with-

(...)

-sweat, and the noise that escapes his battered acid filled throat is pitched and enraged.]

Don't-

[ don't what? Tell him what he already knew? What the other "Champions" were more than happy to throw in his face at the trial? That not only had no one known him back in Paris, but no one here did either. And no one ever would.

Rody flaffing about with his lemon cologne, always coming to talk to him no matter how many warning signs Vince threw out. All these idiotic gatherings and desperate sharing of secrets. Talking about how they were a team or a family. It was disgusting. Pathetic.

He wanted it so fucking badly. But he only knew how to love with his teeth.

And no sane person wanted to be loved like that.

She's stronger than him, but he has height leverage. So he pushes and pushes against the lock, the glass squealing. As if he wants to break it into his knuckles. Or his chest. His throat]

blood & hand injury cw

[ensiforme]

[ There.

She hadn't been wrong to think she saw a spark in him. But what she'd mistaken for a forge was tempered metal, glowing in the aftermath of some billowing, all-consuming heat. Raw materials left to rust and decay without a blacksmith to hammer them into shape. It doesn't know exactly what made him this way but the knowing isn't what matters. The recognition is.

Now it knows what it has to do.

The whisky bottle finally ruptures under their clashing strength and slices upwards, gouging the back of his hand. Eglantine lunges before he can move and slams its body into his, carrying them both to the ground. A knee drives into his back, fingers curl into his hair to expose his neck and by the time they slam to the floor, Eglantine has him flat on his belly with the jagged remains of the bottle not an inch from his throat.

From where it sits on his back, the blade takes shallow breaths. Its hand shakes. Not out of exertion but—

Restraint. ]

cw: self harm

[deadplating]

[ He recognizes that restraint. The trembling and tension. He's had to maintain it himself too many times to keep from driving things into the eyes of others more than once.

But now it's being use on him. He never even had a chance to get away. Caught like a rat in a trap.

Even so he bucks and squirms, not afraid as the glass scrapes and pricks him, making him bleed just like his hand currently is. But it's too strong, the hold on his hair keeps him from getting away. Or, more likely, sinking his throat into the jagged edges.

He screams in pure unbridled frustration, a strangled putain just the start of the filth pouring out his mouth at her. ]

continued cw as above, suicidal ideation, animal injury. christ.

[ensiforme]

[ Even under its grip, he writhes enough to catch himself on the glass and bleed. She thinks of animals she's caught in traps before, so frantic to escape that they tear themselves to shreds in their attempts. Vince reminds it of one of those animals, squirming and crying for freedom but what he wants isn't an escape.

Well. Not that sort, at least.

She could give it to him now, easily. All it would take is letting go of his hair so he could drive his throat into the glass. Its whole arm shakes with the need to do it but with one last sharp breath inwards, it manages to grab the reigns again.

Casually as anyone would toss aside garbage, it throws away the remains of the bottle. It shatters across the floor out of reach to both of them. ]

Has anyone ever told you that you have a remarkably foul vocabulary?

[deadplating]

[he pants there, practically drooling from all the screaming he was doing. He has to assume Maruki (or his boss) had sealed up the soundproofing in the hope that someone was about to die.

He glances to to the door and sees that yes, it is closed and wasn't when they came in.]

That fucker.

[he snarls before rolling his eyes back towards her]

Not...haaaah... the first time I've heard that, no.

[ensiforme]

And I imagine it won't be the last. Anyone would think something terrible had happened to you.

[ It really has the audacity to make that joke while still white knuckle gripping his hair... but it does have the decency (if you can call it that) to finally let go, though it makes no move to stand up and let him out from under it.

Its eyes are bright and white-rimmed again but not in the same manic way as before - more like the jittery excitement of someone who'd just stumbled off a thrill ride and was anticipating round two. ]

Is your hand beyond repair?

[deadplating]

[His head thumps on the floor, and he groans softly into the carpet, not even bothering to lift it again. Though he does tilt his head enough to look at his hand. It's full of shards and is bleeding... a lot. Yet the pain is dull under all the adrenaline.

He flexes his fingers]

... didn't tear any tendons, I think.

[ensiforme]

I see.

[ It stands up at last, taking its weight off Vince's back but then it circles around him and stoops down to the ground again. As casually as someone plucking a bit of fluff from someone's clothes, it starts picking the shards of glass from his hand with its bare fingers. ]

Keep still, then. It's better to do this while the adrenaline is still in your system.

[deadplating]

[he watches it work with dull eyes]

... what the hell are you doing.

[ensiforme]

I did not take you as an asker of stupid questions.

[ she didn't have the decency to KILL him but she's gonna kill him like that??? ]

[deadplating]

[He rolls his eyes and growls softly]

Fuck you. Why are you doing that.

[ensiforme]

If you die of an infection because of an ill-treated wound, I would be executed.

[ A beat of silence as it carefully works out a particularly nasty chunk of glass from one of his cuts. Once it's out, she drops it to the side and goes back to her work. ]

And I would like to fight you again.

[deadplating]

[he hisses as the shard comes free, blood oozing out. He pauses, staring at it]

... of course.

[Said with tired disdain]

[ensiforme]

[ Its eyes flit up to his face and for a second it looks genuinely... disappointed? ]

You do not?

[deadplating]

I don't want to be here at all, you cow.

[Even his curse sounds rather flat. He keeps staring at his hand... then leans down to drag his tongue over the wound, ignoring the remaining glass. Enough to dribble down his chin.

He swallows, waiting... Nothing. As expected]

Tch. You won't get much of a fight from me- I'm a chef, not a... a sword or whatever you call yourself.

[ensiforme]

You are for now. But you have steel in you.

[ There's a pause and it seems to have a rare moment of self awareness in realizing that while this makes perfect sense to her, Vince is probably, understandably, less immediately on the uptake. ]

With the right forge, you would make an interesting blade.

[deadplating]

I've already been burned once, I'm not interested in it again.

[smoke and cooking oil and rodyrodyrody- He should hate the man for his attempted murder, but instead that image of the waiter staring down at him with such passion is seared into him. A lovely goodbye]

[ensiforme]

A shame. Perhaps a second time would do you some good.

[ Going by its smirk, she's mostly being catty, it seems — though she continues working the worst of the glass out of his hand without complaint. ]

Ah. Before we forget — when the others ask what happened, I believe the simplest way to explain things would be to say that there was a fight and I was the aggressor.