[ As morbid as it is, this has become something of a weekend tradition for them; after the first execution, a horrendously grisly and downright cruel display, it would have been easy for them all to retreat into their rooms and scream into their pillows, or at least get a good cry out. Mari, of course, had other plans; call it tactless, or insensitive, to celebrate in the wake of two deaths, but if they were going to grieve, at the very least, they should grieve together. The food was awful and there wasn't any music to be found, but the idea was actually more well-received than she had anticipated (the fact that she's so damn pushy probably helped matters), and the general consensus was that it might be nice to do it again, sometime.
What they hadn't anticipated, of course, was that their circumstances would practically necessitate making something like this a weekly ordeal. The parties get bigger as the group gets smaller; more people help with the food, some chip in with the decorations. Hell, some even have themes, spur-of-the-moment ridiculous ideas that cause the other "competitors" to look at the invitation in bafflement. Overall, though, they're fun times, just a little something to keep everyone's minds on more positive things than the atrocities they saw in that trial room.
Sometimes it worked. Sometimes, not so much. And in particular, Mari can see the way this whole thing is taking its toll on Dia, week after week. It must be their fifth or sixth one when she notices Dia's barely left the kitchen, having taken to washing the dishes in silence and cleaning up after everyone's mess.
That's...well, that's just like Dia, isn't it. ]
...You're working yourself too hard again, Dia.
[ To anyone else, it may be surprisingly serious, considering how jovial she normally is. But even Mari has a side like this, one that she really only lets Dia see here, and she's quite determined to keep it that way.
After all, she's convinced no one will disturb them for now. The kitchen door is closed and she's hung a cowboy hat that she got from the vending machine up on the doorknob; they're all adults here, they should know what that means-- ]
afterparty!
What they hadn't anticipated, of course, was that their circumstances would practically necessitate making something like this a weekly ordeal. The parties get bigger as the group gets smaller; more people help with the food, some chip in with the decorations. Hell, some even have themes, spur-of-the-moment ridiculous ideas that cause the other "competitors" to look at the invitation in bafflement. Overall, though, they're fun times, just a little something to keep everyone's minds on more positive things than the atrocities they saw in that trial room.
Sometimes it worked. Sometimes, not so much. And in particular, Mari can see the way this whole thing is taking its toll on Dia, week after week. It must be their fifth or sixth one when she notices Dia's barely left the kitchen, having taken to washing the dishes in silence and cleaning up after everyone's mess.
That's...well, that's just like Dia, isn't it. ]
...You're working yourself too hard again, Dia.
[ To anyone else, it may be surprisingly serious, considering how jovial she normally is. But even Mari has a side like this, one that she really only lets Dia see here, and she's quite determined to keep it that way.
After all, she's convinced no one will disturb them for now. The kitchen door is closed and she's hung a cowboy hat that she got from the vending machine up on the doorknob; they're all adults here, they should know what that means-- ]