sovereign rising

this god is a ravenous god; i am coming to consume your victories (a dangan ronpa roleplay blog for the shsl duelist yamirou yuugiri, affiliated with the now-defunct danganronpa: descent) (sprite credit to greaserhell!)

[shsltonton]

Nobody's Business | RE: Motive | Auditorium > Food Court

[shsltonton]

Well, what great timing this was. They had all been giving some devastating news and now the only person who could cause even more devastation was heading right towards him. Tonton heavily resisted rolling his eyes as he listened to what the other had to say, swallowing his bite of doughnut.

The truly warm greeting made the small entrepreneur turned in his seat to stare at the giant before him. Whatever sie could have in mind to say to him was indeterminable, but sie was sure to come out with some complicated words that he couldn’t even find in a Japanese-Chinese dictionary.

When sie spoke hir question, Tonton was a quite surprised. Sie would only be asking if sie was concerned for either his or hir own situation. Either of those conclusions sounded a little amusing. The black-haired kid sat up straight before he spoke.

"Why are you asking me this? Are you worried for me, or have you just come to laugh? Either of those options seem… below someone so high and mighty, if you ask me.”

"But if you must ask, I do not know if it’s possible! There is nothing I can do from here, so I’m trying not to think about it. Isn’t that the best course of action?"

Tonton took another bite of the doughnut again before looking Yamirou in the eye. Even the tension of their situation would not be enough to break the grudge between them, at least in his opinion.

[shslduelist]

And of course Tonton was intent on making this difficult, despite what had been (in Yamirou's eyes) a truly flawless performance of maturity on hir own part. At his questions, Yamirou simply squinted, uncertain whether they were rhetorical or whether the entrepreneur truly expected the generosity of an honest answer. Either way, hir perceived maturity reserves were exhausted for the moment, and it was less restraint than sheer weariness that prevented hir from snapping in precisely the same way as sie had in the gymnasium. What came next, while not pleasant by any means, was at least a little tempered in tone.

"'Come to laugh'? Would that my goals were so simply fulfilled. The carnival next door... would not take joy in such tactless jabs, at the very least."

Tonton's next words, however, were in some ways less difficult to brush off. Attempted slights sie could shrug off like the folds of a particularly ornate cape, but blithe inaction at the circumstances seemed unforgivable in the light of Hiroko Yuugiri's kidnapping. Beneath hir own composure lay the vain expectation that hir mother's situation, dire as it was, would be treated exactly as such by even the bitterest of hir enemies. Beyond that, there was even something especially grating about the way in which Tonton harped on about passivity, when, for all Yamirou knew, he might have been planning the next murder already.

"Had I harboured a ghost of a curiosity towards your childish coping strategies, you have thoroughly exorcised that ghost. Congratulations. There is something all of us can do, and it may happen swifter than expected if you do not tell me whether those you saw were certainly your parents... just as I saw mine."

[namigaeshi-deactivated20140831]

[Challenge 8] Homesick || REACTION/OPEN

[namigaeshi-deactivated20140831]

At the sight of Yamirou, Ginchiyo’s eyes softened a tad and she tried her best to calm herself down, despite her heightened emotions. She clenched and unclenched her fists, directing her angry gaze away from the duelist and to the floor, progressively steadying her breathing until it was almost normal. But no matter how hard she tried, the sight of her parents in such an unexpected and impossible situation continuously played through in her head and only caused her to get riled up again, and she let out another angry groan.

It only just occurred to her that there were others here - that she was only just encouraged to off, too - and they likely had family, friends and loved ones that they held extremely dear to them being threatened at gunpoint on that torturing slideshow. She was so caught up in seeing her own mother and father in such a vulnerable state that it didn’t cross her mind that others were probably acting the same as her— Maybe even worse.

Or better, in Yamirou’s case. In fact, the other was much more composed compared to Ginchiyo’s self that she was starting to get pissed off at how well sie managed to present hirself in front of the rest of the students. At hir posed worry for her, the instructor’s eyes glazed over and her brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and upset.

"Is… is that all you have to say…?”

Her mouth was dry; a result of it being left agape as she stared in disbelief at the TV and now, Yamirou’s cool composure. Whether or not sie was actually phased by the motive didn’t matter to Ginchiyo. Sie looked like this motive was merely a scuff on hir shoes, and the iaidoka just couldn’t comprehend the sight before her. Clutching at the strap across her chest with one hand, she pointed accusingly at the duelist with her eyes wide in distress.

 ”Y… You act as if this is nothing—! Don’t you have a family— A- Are you even human…?!”

Her voice cracked at the end and tears were threatening to fall from her eyes once again. What kind of thing was that to say? Didn’t they have their own family members’ safety to fuss over, rather than stating something so unnecessary towards her? In the heat of the moment, she grabs the hilt of her sword and drags the sword out, pointing it in front of her and initiating a defensive stance. She slowly began approaching Yamirou, voice raising with each word.

"Four of us are dead already and we haven’t even found a way out! My parents are in danger of being killed if I do not act!! I- I do not care for the perspectives of other’s towards this motive— To me, this is more appealing than anything I’ve been made victim to in this hell hole…!!”

By the time she was done yelling, she was already all up in Yamirou’s face with the sword pressed at hir neck. Given the sword was not capable of inflicting such damage, that didn’t stop her eyes from widening in horror as she took a step back and slumped her shoulders, casting down the sword. Letting out a small wail, she buried her face in hir chest and choked out a string of apologies.

"Why, why… Why us of all people…”

[shslduelist]

Being both the World Champion of Oh-Gi-Yu and the child of Hiroko Yuugiri, Yamirou was no stranger to threats. Tactical, psychological, emotional — threats took a great many forms, and just as often came from self-proclaimed allies as from the bitterest of rivals. What Yamirou was significantly less used to, however, was the manner of threat sie now found herself on the blunted end of.

A combination of meticulous security details and sheer fear of the consequences had always shielded hir from would-be assailants even before hir rise to personal fame; beyond that, sie had never felt the need or desire to develop hir physicality beyond what any god besides hirself had given hir. All of this left hir surprisingly prone to the idea of an attack, which until these abnormal days had dwelled in the realm of mere hypotheticals. And while the brief contact of a practice sword could hardly be called an attack compared to the overall violence the class had seen, it was quite enough to send fleeting cracks through hir ostensibly iron composure.

"..."

There were, of course, also Ginchiyo's words to consider. They were made all the more complex by the fact that they — unlike the edge of her sword at hir neck — could not be considered an attack in any sense of the word. As though to reaffirm its existence, Yamirou absent-mindedly ran a hand over hir neck, then gathered hir composure behind a few dispassionate blinks. Words sie could at least handle with some degree of grace... though the extent to which any kind of emotional candour could be extracted from hir remained firmly in debate.

"Is… is that all you have to say…?" Sie was assuming (or at least, felt most comfortable interpreting) that this question was rhetorical. The several that followed, though, were not necessarily so. Yamirou was considering how best to answer each of them literally when Ginchiyo did something akin to crumpling, her sword and her shoulders falling as though with the weight of her words; and then, perhaps more horrifyingly than the contact of her sword, she clung against Yamirou hirself.

While sudden contact was always disorienting, sie was not quite so tactless as to protest it here and now. Instead, sie stood rigid, still, and yet strangely fragile, as though a particularly large icicle on the verge of breaking all at once. Needless to say, this was not a social situation Yamirou had any notable experience in, and the quick, strained tap on the shoulder sie finally did offer her was an effort in and of itself.

"Thank you... for your honesty. It was a genuine question, and anything less than a genuine answer would be the path of a coward."

Hir gaze still fixed rather intently on the wall opposite them, Yamirou paused to debate how much honesty was appropriate on hir own part. In reality, Ginchiyo had vocalised hir own feelings on the matter very accurately, and it was begrudgingly that sie again reflected on the lengths one would go to to prevent a legacy's fall. Strangely, what words came next seemed imbued with a quiet passion against their circumstances.

"The stakes they have conjured are high indeed. Telling lies to ourselves of these... fiendish gambles can do no good. So, my answer, I am afraid, is no different... but we, of all people, will not break. Cannot bow. We are above that. Do you understand?"

[shsltonton]

Nobody's Business | RE: Motive | Auditorium > Food Court

This time, EDO’s threat was particularly hard to look past. After all, whoever was doing all of this had to be pretty powerful to be able to capture all of their families and friends. And it meant that whoever was doing this knew a lot about them individually, too.

Seeing his mother and father tied up on chairs with guns pointed at them, Tonton face twisted into a perplexed state of shock. In the background of the shot he could see their family home; there was no doubt about it. How homesick he felt… And how worried he was.

"H-how did you let yourselves get caught, māma, bàba? I made sure we had the most expensive security system money could buy…! Ne, EDO, if you’re trying to trick me with some fake lookalikes, it won’t work!”

However, there was another pressing thought that was at the forefront of his mind.

"Augh…"

If his parents weren’t around… who on earth was going to look after his multi-million corporation?! Tonton was already cringing. He could sense his business bursting into flames any second now.

There was nothing he could do about it from here. Except… kill. Thinking it would be better than standing around with a bunch of panicking students, he turned and headed back towards the food court where he had been spending most of his time eating his troubles away. Time for another doughnut.

[shslduelist]

Yamirou's belief in the video's veracity was in something of a quantum superposition, not just segueing from belief to disbelief, but occupying both states jointly with enough mystique that sie was tempted to just walk away and leave the proverbial box be. Still, from a solely strategic point of view, it was an unfortunate necessity to assume that Hiroko Yuugiri was kidnapped — it was just a matter of how. While most of the others in the video were likely insignificant enough not to warrant similar protection (and hence unhelpful when it came to ascertaining whether or not a company president could truly be kidnapped), Yamirou knew this was not the case for at least two.

It was hir misfortune, sie supposed, that their relative here was the fool sie could suffer least gracefully.

Investing absolutely no effort in making hirself inconspicuous, Yamirou trailed after Tonton towards the food court — a place that, until now, sie had hardly explored beyond bare necessity by sole virtue of the fact that Tonton seemed to have set up shop there. Now, however, the worm had quite consciously turned. Observing his post-video state with an almost academic intensity, Yamirou only cleared hir throat and began to speak when the corridor was well behind them.

"You. I have a wonder, if you care to indulge it."

Rather than deign to await Tonton's response, Yamirou continued with the expectation that he did care to indulge it. After all, sie was even being so magnanimous as to leave their previous confrontation behind — a professional courtesy that might never have been extended in times of greater peace. If sie was having second thoughts about initiating another interaction with the entrepreneur, they were quite professionally tucked away; in Yamirou's eyes, what bitter words sie had offered had been the result of Tonton's own immaturity, and hence entirely avoidable if he kept this civil. An admittedly large 'if', but sie had contended with more ominous chances in the past.

"Your parents. Whatever the company profit margins may be, I assume some small change does go towards a security budget. Thus, I also assume that spiriting them away would be a slightly less onerous task than for your regular peon." Sie paused, unsure how to phrase this next part without betraying some small shred of concern for hir own situation. "Do you... truly think it is possible?"

[shsl-drum-major-001-deactivated]

What kind of family...? | [Challenge 8][Reaction/Open]

[shsl-drum-major-001-deactivated]

Not completely sure how to take those sorts of words coming from Yamirou, Setsuko started to feel guilty for going from highschooler to preschooler in less than five seconds. It’s not like she could have hurt hir feelings, she knew that but this display was definitely one she preferred to have not been seen.

“I’m sorry…” She muttered weakly through the aftershock of sobs and hiccups from crying uncontrollably. She mostly apologized to make something up to herself even though that voice in the back of her head would always say that sorry wasn’t good enough.

She knew that Yamirou was most likely wording hir sequences close to a scold but with a desire to get a different reaction. Hir chiding tone and the fact that now Setsuko was being looked down on in more ways than one made her gut feel terrible. She picked herself off the floor and began to put chairs and tables away. She was still facing hir since sie had no intention to flee the disaster area.

“Takayama-kun?” She really wondered why a person like Yamirou would ask such a thing. She wasn’t against talking about it though. “Kenta Takayama is…” She paused and wondered what kind of description would be best to bring up first. “…my best friend.” She sighed knowing that sounded undeserving of a screaming tantrum reaction. “He was the color guard captain of both the bands which I conducted for. Whenever I had any sort of problem, I could go to him. Most of the time I didn’t even have to, he was always there when I wasn’t feeling my best. He didn’t care if I was angry or anything… he would listen to me. Takayama-kun was the greatest friend I could have had, especially after what happened last year…”

“I can’t help but feel like this is still my fault though. I wasn’t even planning on going to Hope’s Peak at first…” Despite keeping things vague, Setsuko started to feel bad for spilling so much info on her own situation. Did Yamirou even want to know or was that question just there to fill the silence. Too late now…

[shslduelist]

An individual that felt the weight of social obligation more heavily might have begun to help her upright the mess of tables at chairs at this point — but Yamirou was far from that individual, and instead observed with little guilt as she began to carry out the job single-handedly. Of all the moral imperatives in this yet-unknown setting, after all, the compulsion to fix another person's wrongdoings fell squarely last in hir eyes.

"Apologise all you'd like," sie shrugged matter-of-factly. "Save for the one grand decision to kill or not kill, your actions hardly matter... let alone your words."

While the statement, in its harshness, clearly was not intended to reassure, neither was it intended to harm. As was usual and hir wont, Yamirou was simply philosophising beyond the bounds of social acceptability.

Just as in the duelling arena, words meant far less than actions here, and a mere apology did little to soothe hir suspicions at the show of violence whose consequences now lay before hir. At the same time, taking out one's anger on furniture was quite different to harming a human being; so, Yamirou mused, perhaps neither the act nor the apology truly mattered, and the whole sordid affair was well below hir. It hardly occurred that she might be apologising for the sake of anyone but hir, of course — let alone Setsuko herself.

Still, sie listened surprisingly intently as Setsuko began to speak about Takayama. Standoffish as sie might have seemed on a permanent basis, Yamirou was not so supercilious as to avoid knowing facts about a person that might make the difference between their victory and their failure. It had been the same with Oh-Gi-Yu — if a contestant played a particular deck, sie would know it down to the finest minutiae by the time they faced off against one another. It was only common sense to treat one's rivals so, and for as long as they operated under the same rules, Setsuko, too, was finally a rival.

"You weren't planning on going to Hope's Peak," Yamirou finally repeated, with an air as close to incredulousness as hir general tone emoted. Although Setsuko's monologue had mostly concerned Takayama, this was somehow the part that had leapt out at hir — an individual recognised as SHSL having doubts when presented with the very height of competition and victory? Turning down such an opportunity was a thoroughly alien concept, and to Yamirou, it spoke greatly of her character. Enough to pique hir curiosity yet again. "...Given our current predicament, I can't call it foolish, but I do wonder. How does one... simply...?"

[namigaeshi-deactivated20140831]

[Challenge 8] Homesick || REACTION/OPEN

She had just left her dorm room and made her way through to the auditorium when the television screen flickered on, revealing EDO who Ginchiyo could only assume was angry at them. At the sight of their recent announcement, she reluctantly stuck around the room, though a good distance from the TV that she knew would keep her relatively safe from technology’s wrath.

Her face scrunched up and she looked on at disgust at the revelation that the remaining children were being presented another motive for murder, and she was almost tempted to walk away and not even humour the sick mind of the television. However, EDO disappeared from the screen and the screen displayed a sight that caused her eyes to widen and her mouth to open wide, struggling out her speech with a distraught tone.

"M… Mother… F-Father—?!”

She had thought of them worrying about her being locked up in here, but it never crossed her mind that they themselves would be in danger. Seeing them in such a vulnerable state was something Ginchiyo would have never expected. They were such strong people— more than capable of taking care of themselves and even defending their dojo from yakuza associates, but there they were, tied up and roughed down on the ground. Just what kind of enemy were the students up against?!

The sight of guns pointed to their heads enraged her, and she balled her fists at her side and and shook uncontrollably, hot tears threatening to stream down her face. Their captor returned to the screen again, the lines rumbling as it laughed at their expense. Once the screen flickered off again, Ginchiyo could only stand there with her head hung low, face red with absolute fury.

She didn’t register someone else walk into the room initially, instead letting out an angry wail and rubbing vigorously at her eyes before any tears could fall. Whether or not the other person was willing to converse with her, she turned to them with an expression reading pure hatred towards this motive— no, towards this entire game.

[shslduelist]

Yamirou Yuugiri did not spiral out of control — and if sie did, not at the provocation of a mere taunt. Yamirou Yuugiri did not spiral out of control, and thus sie had watched the proceedings with all the patience of a chessmaster as pieces were sedately pushed from square to square. And if Yamirou Yuugiri did spiral out of control, sie had done so gracefully, silently, in a helical plummet so swift it may as well have eluded observation entirely — even to hirself.

As sie stormed out of the main broadcasting room, hir mind gripped onto the memory like a vice: hir classmates' words, their posture, which of their faces had gone dark with apprehension when and at the image of who, their faces, the things they gripped for safety, and most of all, their next destinations. All of these things Yamirou had observed to the best of hir ability, until hir mother's own face had flashed across the sleek screen. Hiroko, Chizuko, Yoshiko — the names flared up, then simmered gently, the thought of their plight wafting heavy like smoke. Now, however, was the time to think like a strategist, and that required looking beyond one's own hand. Now was the time to externalise, and douse all thought of defeat.

Before sie could halt in hir tracks, Ginchiyo came into view... and it was indeed a mystery whether Yamirou should have halted in hir tracks and left anyway. For one, she had looked and sounded dangerously distraught during the video; that was to be expected when seeing one's mother and father held at gunpoint, sie supposed, but there had also been an element of genuine surprise to her tone. Warriors did not simply appear from nowhere, and perhaps they, too, were mighty in their own right. Admittedly, this last thought was less the result of any sort of analysis than hir own projection, but the theory had rooted itself nonetheless.

"...Nobunaga. I hope the thought of killing looks no more appealing than ever."

The greeting was blunt and without any real preface, but Yamirou saw no need to feign that the situation was anything but what it was. Killing was their reality, and gauging hir classmates' psychological situations was therefore a sad necessity; beyond that, sie was genuinely a little curious as to what Ginchiyo had to say on the matter.

[shsl-drum-major-001-deactivated]

What kind of family...? | [Challenge 8][Reaction/Open]

[♩-♩-]

Setsuko had no idea what to expect from the display. It would make sense if it was her parents. She was close to them and appreciated them now more than ever especially since she and her father had made up for their differences. But… the slide didn’t even show this family. On the screen for a few seconds was rather a different family. There were only two figures- both of them wearing uniforms similar to Setsuko’s. For some odd reason only one of their faces was shown.

“Takayama-kun!!!” She screeched. There he was, color guard captain Kenta Takayama… tied up and unconscious… surrounded by guns. Why of all people was it him on the slide? Why did they choose him? How could they have known that…

“W-w…wh-why…” She darted out of the auditorium, a trail of tears and sobbing following her. She didn’t even know what to do she just wanted to scream and be left alone. This broke her. She kept running till she found herself at the bowling alley.

She went over to the waiting area where there were some chairs and tables. She started kicking them over and throwing things everywhere in a blind rage. She flipped a few tables. She was too tall and strong for her own good sometimes. Acting and looking your age were so far gone from this one- the spectacle looked ridiculous if you had no context of what was just witnessed by the 16 students.

Eventually she stopped completely. She stood still in the middle of the disaster area she had single-handedly created. She dropped to her knees and just started bawling.

“This is all my fault!! Why is everything always my fault??! Why can’t I do anything… I can’t…” She continued rambling through sobs. Her voice had a new sort of strength to it. “None of this would have happened if I had just-“ She gasped. Someone had walked in on her huge embarrassing conniption. Had they been watching the whole time?

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!! JUST GO AWAY!!!” Her voice boomed throughout the whole bowling alley. What a terrible location to be in if you wanted to save your eardrums…

[shslduelist]

EDO's announcement left a bleak wake — one that had made it an onerous task to ignore anything resembling a disturbance. If Yamirou was telling the truth, if only internally, it was also far easier to fixate on the disturbances than to address the real and unnerving reality of hir entire family's abduction. So, when Setsuko's impromptu table-flinging began to reverberate through the bowling alley, Yamirou set aside the urge to retreat to hir room and followed the source with an air of something resembling impulsiveness.

What sie saw, while in some ways expected, served to raise more questions than answers.

Summarily ignoring Setsuko's warnings at first, sie scanned the room wordlessly. Either a brief, localised hurricane had ravaged the waiting area, or Setsuko Shoujiki had begun to take her anger out in ways new and unadvised. So far, sie had quite comfortably detached hirself from the events that raged around hir, but the murders had not ceased and tensions seemed at no risk of decreasing; perhaps, Yamirou mused, it was time to take a different strategic approach. Better to discourage this unnecessary factor before it became a real and serious part of the game before them.

"Don't be absurd," sie muttered, now averting hir eyes from the spectacle with something not unlike disgust. Sie might have stopped at that, but there was a dull ache in hir ears that sie was not keen to encourage the source of so soon; instead, sie went on, fixing hir eyes on anything that was not the haphazard clutter of tables and chairs with an odd intensity. "I am sure there is an allure to be found in convincing yourself that this might all be within your control. But your faith — and your blame — would be misplaced. None of this is a mere student's fault. Do not forget that we have greater powers to blame for this travesty, and they depend on our self-flagellation."

Being neither inclined towards nor particularly well-versed in the art of social comfort, sie was hardly saying this for anyone's benefit but hir own. Still, sie would chalk this interaction up as a positive one if Setsuko's reaction offered any kind of insight as to her strategy (and spared hir eardrums from total annihilation in the act thereof, if sie was lucky). Cautious as to how to proceed, sie allowed the silence to hang for a moment or two, now fixing hir gaze intently on Setsuko's eyes.

"Who is Takayama?" Yamirou finally asked, with an air just as abrupt. Hir voice remained as impassive as ever, but with something of an inquisitive aspect — after all, the precise subject of her motive could make the difference between an innocent student and the class' next murderer.

[shslduelist]

back to battle city: part iii [reaction/open]

[♫]

At the sight of hir classmates' families, Yamirou offered little to no response. As evidently high-scale as this operation was, what with its giant murderous hourglasses and arbitrary casinos, there was little surprise that a few family members could be abducted on the side. Really, if they themselves were still here against their will, it was only be expected that a few feeble accessories to their fame could also go missing without any great consequence. It was just a shock that this mysterious organisation's evident kidnapping capabilities had not been used as leverage against them sooner.

This, of course, was a tactical opinion held with the utmost certainty that Hiroko Yuugiri herself had not been abducted. She was above and beyond this — and for better or worse, the world itself would clamour at her absence. Panic throes could be left to the peons whose families had not invested in a multimillion-Yen security budget.

An opinion held until Tonton's famliy flashed across the screen, at least. That... was odd. Sie might have cracked a smile at the sight of his panic, had the fact not been equally worrying to hirself. Surely, anyone linked to a personage such as himself enjoyed the utmost protection — not quite as extensive as the Yuugiri family's, naturally, but the sort of ironclad corporate defence whose seriousness Yamirou could attest to nonetheless. Even if Tonton's parents themselves were not the executive titans, the whole affair held some worrying connotations.

And before sie could ruminate on the potential differences between Tonton's family security and hir own, Hiroko Yuugiri herself flashed onto that damned screen. Hiroko Yuugiri, President of Yuugiri Kabushiki Kaisha and hir own mother. Hiroko Yuugiri and her two sisters, no less. This was not just impossible, but improbable, illogical, and insulting.

The company would continue to operate, of course, but deep within all three of their management styles had lurked the murky suspicion that their leadership was resented. And perhaps that was true — perhaps the moment they were gone, the company would be frantically divided amongst the underlings like a birthday cake at an otherwise disappointing party. None of this worried Yamirou nearly as much as the fact that the company could be touched. TuanTuan Electronics was one paltry prize that could be comfortably tucked under EDO's belt, but YuugiCo? Never.

Unconsciously, and with the utmost irritation, Yamirou began to make hir way over to the EDOcoin game in the Arcade. It was only after a few seconds' fruitless fumbling in hir pockets that sie recalled that sie had no money to speak of or gamble with; rather than do the sensible thing and drift away before anyone had noticed, Yamirou simply glared at the machine, as though a coin (even one of those accursed, mortifying mini-coins) might mysteriously summon itself from its depths.

[dioramalama]

Visit Original Link

Fool, you are pathetic.

[drdescent]

In an amalgamation of validation from hir victories at the gambling machine and suspicion at the prospect of humouring it further, Yamirou inserts three coins into the EDOmachine that dispenses gifts. Ah, the sweet fruits of entirely chance-based victory.

Yamirou has entered 3 EDOcoins into the EDOmachine.

Clipboard

A brand new clipboard with a stack of paper attached and ready to be written on. Good for taking notes!

Toxic Goggles

A pair of cyber goth goggles with the warning symbol for ‘toxic’ emblazoned on the forefront of each eyepiece. They aren’t for seeing through as much as they are for sitting on your head looking cool.

Hope Filters

A pack of cigarettes with a coincidentally ironic brand name. Touted as the most “typical Japanese cigarettes”, this obscure brand is very short, very strong and very old fashioned. Not very popular among avid smokers these days, but maybe certain people make exceptions.

Yamirou’s current EDOcoin count is 0.

[shslduelist]

Yamirou retrieves the items one by one, casting a disdainful gaze over each in turn. Substances for the weak, cheap gothic fare, and... could that clipboard be...?

Casting all thoughts of the entrepreneur from hir mind before hir disdain descends into a less graceful emotion, sie pockets the items and sighs. What a waste of the money sie had gambled so persistently for.

"...Pathetic."

[drdescent]

[Trial 2] Transcript - Pastebin.com

Trial 2, straight from skype!

[drdescent]

[CHAPTER 3 MAP]

Read More

[shslduelist]

the tomb-keeper's secret [investigation/natsu]

[shsltennisbabe]

After having had her little cry in the studio, openly and shamelessly, Natsu drew herself up, brushed herself down and cleared her throat as if nothing had happened, and as if she didn’t have black mascara streaks down her cheeks.

There wasn’t anything of note in here, not that she could see - that said, it wasn’t like she had any clue of what would be useful anyway. Instead, she found herself walking to the nightclub next door, for no other reason than this was the last place she’d seen Tokaji, when the last trial had ended. It might be too much to hope that there’d be a clue in here, or that he’d even been here before it happened, but it was as good a place to start as any.

With a glance to the door handle, she pushed it open and found that she wasn’t alone in having come here first. Yamirou was here too and honestly, there was worse company to have than Yamirou. Plus, sie seemed like the type who might actually be able to piece something like this together.

"Yamirou! Like, you’re here too!"

She brightly cried out, and smiled like there wasn’t the corpse of one of their dead classmates in the next room over. Closing the door behind herself, she glanced down at the trash can by the entrance before turning to Yamirou with a bit more of a melancholic look.

"…It’s only to be expected what happened, isn’t it? I mean… Even so, it’s still. You know. Awful."

[shslduelist]

"...Mogaki."

Yamirou offered pointedly in response to the casual use of hir first name, albeit too nonchalantly to betray any real sort of malice. Sie glanced up for a moment, offering a single magnanimous nod before sie returned to hir inspections.

Sie was no cold-reader when it came to emotions, but what was immediately apparent was the brightness of Natsu's voice. Either she was entirely oblivious of the situation that surrounded her, or she was making a very valiant effort to convince herself of that same fact. Neither pursuit seemed particularly useful to Yamirou — but by the same token, sie felt no urgent need to interfere with them either. What concerned hir far more was her actual words.

"'Only to be expected'? Tch. Don't you ever expect murder as a matter of course. The one saving grace of this farcical congregation was meant to be that we were the hope of the future — that bomber included. I count myself lucky that it was him, but I'd still expect better from humanity, and especially us. Never mind this... external hell."

Seemingly unaware of how entirely dissonant — and perhaps, more terrifyingly, idealistic — that last sentiment had come off, Yamirou withdrew the cigar sie had found from hir pockets once more.

"Speaking of. A remnant, perhaps."

All that being said, Yamirou crossed to the stage platform that housed the DJ set-up, trailing hir gaze along the floor all the while, and peered under it. Sie wasn't about to get on hir hands and knees — perish the thought — but sie seemed to recall something about a storage space beneath when viewed from the right angle. Perhaps there was something to be found in its unlikely shade.

[drdescent]

EVIDENCE FOUND- CIGAR

Found on the nightclub bar’s countertop.

Found by Yuugiri Yamirou.

[shslduelist]

the tomb-keeper's secret [investigation/natsu]

The time for paranoia had firmly passed. As all strategists knew, there was no fixed answer as to whether the best defence was a good offence or vice versa — and Yamirou intended to deliver both with a mighty vengeance.

It was far too late to re-enter the studio without losing some kind of face (and sie was clever, if not vain, enough to understand the tactical importance of keeping up appearances at a time like this), so for the moment, Yamirou resolved hirself to do the next best thing. The adjacent room sie had found hirself in, strangely, had been the exact room which sie had promised hirself sie was not going to set foot in for the entirety of their stay in this particular circle of hell: the dreaded nightclub.

Dark but for the incessant glow of the neon floor, the room almost felt like an insult now. Of course, it had been insulting to both their collective intelligence and their collective sense of solemnity from the very beginning, but its proximity to Tokaji's corpse cranked the narrative insolence of it all to a proverbial eleven. Although the room was currently silent, the flooring continued to flash; squinting against the main part of the room, Yamirou turned and made way to the bar.

Sie hadn't been on speaking terms with Tokaji before his presumably mirror-based passing, but somehow he seemed the type to frequent such an area. Perhaps it was the sharp reek of cigarette smoke that had followed him — too many people here, for a matter of fact — even throughout their more professional congregations, or perhaps Yamirou was just being exactly as judgemental as usual.

Either way, Yamirou made hir way over to the bar and inspected the countertop; almost as a second thought, sie then opened the storage within and peered in disdainfully for any remnants of the crime. Whatever was to be gleaned from the bar's tenebrous mysteries, drinking was still as exactly as disgusting a pursuit as always, Yamirou noted.

[shslduelist]

the past is present [reaction/closed]

 [♫]

All things considered, Tokaji Uzaki's untimely death was both a blessing and an inconvenience.

On one hand, reformed or not, the man had been an obvious threat. Yamirou had little time for talk of reformation, particularly where it was by all accounts forced; sie had never gotten to speak to Tokaji, but sie was quite certain that anyone who had made the off-hand decision to become a serial bomber would have had to undergo some spectacular changes to become an even mildly tolerable conversational partner. All for the best, then, that sie would never have to confront this point of disdain first-hand.

On the other hand... the fact that an ex-terrorist and forcible military recruit could be killed here evoked another emotion altogether. Not quite fear — as there was naturally no place for fear in the heart of a strategist — but certainly some form of apprehension. Objectively speaking, if not a strategist holding the cards, Tokaji had at least been a very formidable monster. Now, he was just another casualty slumped against the mirror; it truly made one think.

Yamirou Yuugiri had grown up ambitiously, with an persistent eye for threats rather than friends — but bizarrely, sie had never felt anything as close to fear for hir personal welfare as now. Now... it was easy to look upon this perdition and see a collection of circumstances under which one could, quite easily, die. Death by a mirror. A person could be killed that way and never even see their own face.

Suddenly at odds with hirself, Yamirou stormed away from the scene of the crime, drawing hir cape across hir shoulder sharply.

[shslemt-blog]

Haha laziness

[shslduelist]

back to battle city: part ii [reaction/open]

[shslmagics]

Arguably, besides the city streets themselves, the area where Emi felt most at home was the casino — it reminds her of her shows in Las Vegas, with some of the fanciest effects, the most exciting tricks, and the biggest crowds and biggest round of applause she’s raked in in recent memory. Sure, America doesn’t go for the idol thing as much as Japan… but they can appreciate a good show with a lot of flash-bang-boom better than anyone else in the world, that’s for sure. Besides, the glamour and shine of the machines, the plush feeling of the carpet under her feet… even if it’s a facade, the whole area expensive and exclusive. She fits right in.

…Speaking of expensive and exclusive, it seems like she has company, here! She spends a few moments contemplating giving the EDOmachine a shakedown to see if it’ll give her any more coins or gifts, but after remembering the overly-complicated diorama-death of the previous night, she decides against it. Better not incite the wrath of the robotic overlord. The sound of shuffling cards attracts her attention instead; intrigued, she makes her way through to the other room, and—

"Oh, Yuugiri-san!"

The prodigal child of YuugiCo hirself! They had spoken briefly on the first day, before being interrupted by EDO — but the brief conversation had been all it took for Emi to know she liked hir. Sie had called her a Dusk Sorcerer… ‘an art to be feared and admired’. And, perhaps most importantly — ‘I know you’. 

That was the most important thing, after all! And, of course, she knows of Yamirou — maybe not for hir abilities in the dueling arena, but definitely for hir family. And now for hir ability to shuffle cards! It’s about as good as her own, almost. 

"Are you playing a card game?" she asks, strutting over and peering over the table. "You’re setting up for Solitaire, right? Isn’t that a little dull for a casino? You should play high-stakes games in places like these! Or at least something against somebody! Then again, I guess there’s nobody else around, huh…?"

An idea strikes her, and she looks up at Yamirou — though sie’s a full foot taller (and then a little more) than she, she doesn’t seem intimidated by hir height at all — in fact, her look can only be described as challenging.

"How about taking me on as your opponent, huh? Any magician has to be familiar with a deck of cards — I bet I could give you a run for your money!"

[shslduelist]

Sie turned slowly, fixing hir gaze upon the magician. Not just an interruption, but a request. The half of Yamirou that had just witnessed the death of two teenagers and was mostly keen on a moment's peace was ready to turn heel and leave, but the half of Yamirou that craved competition... did exactly that. No bets were necessary as to which part of Yamirou would win out, else sie might have metaphorically fallen off the duelling circuit a long time ago. Non-deadly competition had arrived in the form of a person sie could almost tolerate, and sie would be damned if sie wasn't going to take advantage of that opportunity.

And so, Yamirou stared down at Emi with a look falling somewhere between disdain and genuine consideration — as though debating whether or not to pick up and eat a piece of food sie had just dropped on the ground. (Not that genuine consideration had ever factored itself into that particular scenario, but to a bystander, the simile held.) After a moment, hir expression shifted inscrutably, and sie gestured towards the seat opposite hir.

As Emi had said, perhaps a magician would serve a momentary challenge, if only for the fact that one could probably cheat if they set their mind to it. Whether or not she chose to would be the closest thing to a test of character here without involving murder. Not looking anything but pleased at hir own magnanimity, sie swept the cards on the table to one side and began to shuffle two decks together anew.

"Money? Would that we were so trusted by our captors," Yamirou shook hir head, looking remarkably less aggrieved by the situation than hir words might have implied. After all, money itself had never been the issue or the goal when it came to hir own competitive exploits; if anything, an excess thereof had been an obstacle to being famous for anything else. In hir mind, this was a fact to be lamented and not appreciated. "I suppose we'll have to play for our pride. Which, to be frank, gives us different sums to bet with, but what can one do."

Rather than elaborate on this enigmatic insult, Yamirou then fell silent and began to deal the cards between them. Two to each, face-down but for one of hir own cards. The seven of hearts. It was only after the game was formally set up that Yamirou deigned to introduce it, although any famous magician worth her salt hardly required a condescending introduction at this point. Fortunately, the fear of being too condescending was least among Yamirou's concerns.

"The game is blackjack," sie raised an eyebrow, then finally seated hirself opposite Emi. Posture rigid, sie stared across the table with a new energy, some form of focus, if not excitement, entering hir body language at the prospect of a game. "Pitch. Not my game of choice, of course, but you know what they say about trying to be a chooser in a... disadvantaged situation.  As you can see, I will be the dealer." For a moment, sie paused, as though allowing some phrase or sentiment to filter through correctly. Something resembling a smile threatened to cross hir face, though there was something a little alarming about its determination. "As befits a sorcerer, your bravery is impressive — but bravado without skill means nothing. Now... show me what you are capable of."