damedana | [UMINEKO SPOILERS] Heart (Unscored): Beatrice

For a moment, it's dark. You can't see anything around you but you know that you are in a room. A room with four walls, a ceiling, and a firm floor you stand atop. The sounds of a lock being thrown, of chains rustling through the space are really the only things that give you any hint as to how big the space is before a cold metal locks firmly around your throat. Reaching up to your neck, however, reveals nothing is actually there. You can't feel it with your hands, just by the weight of it settled right against the skin when you breathe or swallow. Only once that weight's in place does the room illuminate--

It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with two beds, a nightstand, and wardrobe sitting out on the floor. There are windows on one of the walls, doors on two other walls. One leads to a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tub with shower head. The other is the exit, locked as evident by the chain lock firmly in place on the door.

You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>.

Fortunately, it's a pretty comfortable room. The sun is streaming in through the window, illuminating it in a pretty cheerful atmosphere--if not for the ominous clouds in the distance. And the purple thorny vines pressing into the room through the cracks of the window's framing. But the room's so comfortable, surely there's no real problem or need to rush…

It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with two beds, a nightstand, and wardrobe sitting out on the floor. There are windows on one of the walls, doors on two other walls. One leads to a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tub with shower head. The other is the exit, locked as evident by the chain lock firmly in place on the door.

You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>

Unlike the previous room, however, there seems to be a growing clutter of objects strewn around the room, as if quickly stashed into the space without real thought to their places. A pile of casserole dishes that seems to have claimed a corner, some swords propped against a wall, a lute next to the first bed, a sharpened stick with a wet tip on the floor, a notebook with a feather quill left on the nightstand, some tarot cards left strewn underneath the notebook, a flower crown dangling on the curtains' rod, a dragon plush that seems to be staring at you ready to spring to life at a moment's notice half under second bed, with a bird-like monster with a witch hat laying right next to it.

Probably there are more things under the beds but you might be distracted by what's on them, instead: a collar hanging on the bedframe of the first bed, a red dress crumpled and thrown carelessly onto the first bed, a gun's holster that's half on the nightstand and half falling onto a pillow of the second bed.

Fortunately, the room is still… fairly comfortable. The sun has been swallowed up by the dark clouds rolling in. Outside, the wind is picking up, causing trees and flowers to sway harshly in its grip. The low rumbles of thunder in the distance signals the arrival of the storm, reverberating throughout the room, bringing some unease and foreboding to the heart.

The purple thorny vines pressing into the room through the cracks of the window's framing have spread even further, creeping along the walls. You want to think everything will be fine, you'll fix things and get out of this intact and with no one the wiser that there was ever a problem, but steadily, the doubt creeps in…

It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with two beds, a nightstand where an old turn-style phone sits, a dresser, a table with a basket of candy sitting on it and a couple of chairs pushed under, and wardrobe sitting out on the floor. There are windows on one of the walls, doors on two other walls. One leads to a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tub with shower head. The other is the exit, locked as evident by the chain lock firmly in place on the door.

You know instinctively: <in order to get to your goal, you must find a way out of this room>

That might prove to be a little difficult when the room you're standing in the middle of is covered in blood. Puddles of the red substance pooling in various locations throughout the room. It looks just like a crime scene of some mass murder--including a dried out corpse sitting cozily on a bed--y'know. If there wasn't streamers in black and orange spelling out HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

What a relief, it's just a Halloween party.

Except there are words written in that same red substance on the wall where the purple thorny vines have spread to, covering some of the words with loops and curls that seem to resemble letters of their own:

They owed their fortunes to the Golden Witch.
They were cursed by their own greed.
The culAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

It's uncomfortable. The darkness growing deeper outside as the wind howls and the rain can be heard beginning to fall, the backdrop to this scene that you don't want to believe is real, know is real, can't accept as real, forced to remember always as the reality--you don't want to be here, you don't want to be here! The feeling of someone, or something watching in through the windows, taking such delight in the scene before you, is oppressing and you know that the only way to escape it is to leave the room.

It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with purple thorny vines covering everything, making it impossible to really engage with any of it except for one of the beds and the wardrobe closet. It's all so difficult to make out, but what's impossible to mistaken is that this room is for a specific purpose, a specific reason, and those vines are digging into the walls, the floor, anywhere they can get to take root there. Twisting, distorting things to suit their needs. They're growing in from the window where it's pitch black out, the rain pounding hard against the glass while the wind howls and shrieks. Staring out for too long, you can almost swear there is a pair of eyes staring back at you from the deepest of the night.

There's a thrill of horror down your spine because you know instinctively: <the witch is out there, watching, waiting, grinning madly wondering what you'll do.>

You also know instinctively: <there is a murderer coming for this room in particular, and if you do not hide, you will die>.

((You have 10 comments from each person (minus runner) to pick a place to hide. Do what you will within that time frame or perish :) ))

It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom that is in utter disarray. Everything in the room has been torn apart. The beds, the nightstand, the bathroom, even the windows with shattered glass laying on the floor, letting the howling winds and rain of the typhoon into the room.

It's freezing. Far colder than it should be. Possibly because with the windows broken and the door is already open, the cold air from outside stabs inwards. The chain lock hangs freely, even swinging slowly back and forth as if someone had just unlocked it and left in a hurry.

There's the unmistakable sense that something is desperately, desperately wrong.

You find yourself at the entrance to a garden. The sky here is blue and calm, the weather warm with a nice breeze like it's the height of spring ready to bleed into summer. The garden is bursting with various flowers and colors, red roses, gold roses, blue forget-me-nots--or ordinarily it would be. Today, they all seem to be struggling under the weight of those purple vines with thorns which wrap and wind their way through the garden as if trying to strangle out every last flower there.

In the center of the garden are two identical individuals with red hair sitting at a wrought iron table in the arbor. They're even dressed the same--or rather, are mirrored--a nice fancy suit with a dark emerald vest and the design on the cape is actually in gold, a single eagle wing. One seems to be content, sipping at his tea and moving a chess piece along the board sitting atop the table as if this is all perfectly normal, nothing wrong. The other… is sweating hard, pale, struggling to breathe. The reason becomes apparent: there's a bloody hole in his chest where those very same thorny vines have stabbed into and pulled the flesh open wide, and his beating heart can be seen struggling in their grip.

Edited 2023-02-11 10:38 (UTC)

You enter into the room and it's... actually quite a bit bigger than it had appeared with all of the vines in the way. There's still the closet, of course, but also the bed seems large enough for several people to lay down comfortably.

The other furniture is very nicely made, not fancy but sturdy and with delicate curves for decorative flares. Their hardware are all in gold, of course. There are pictures lining the top of the dresser, three different ones in delicate golden frames. There is a phone on the nightstand, a turn-dial phone just like in the other room but black and gold instead of silver. Near a table with chairs pushed neatly under it, there is a bookshelf with a number of familiar titles... but also newer ones, all carefully ordered by date of release more than author. Atop the shelf is a couple of books laying out invitingly.

The bathroom, from a quick glance on initial entrance is also larger. A separate shower space with glass walls, a clawfoot tub for relaxing soaks, toilet is fairly standard, sink is a lovely pedastal affair with shelves above it. No mirrors whatsoever in immediate sight, but what appears to be a cabinet sits above a narrow shelve with all the towels and various soaps, shampoos, and bath salts.

Probably most different of all... it wasn't actually a window the vines had been covering, but a pair of french glass french doors that open to a balcony. There is still stormy weather--but just to one side of the exterior. The other side is shining blue skies, while the balcony is right in the middle. A casual sprinkling of rain that can look melancholic from one angle, or joyous and light from another. A glass canopy overhead keeps the balcony dry which is fortunate because of course there has to be a table with chairs and chess board sitting out there.

Looking further out straight ahead you can see the beach in the distance. To the sunny side, the Gardens with all their colors in bloom. To the stormy side, of course, the mansion. There are steps on all three sides leading to these different areas.

You know instinctively... this room has access to the whole of the board, even rooms not built or shown.

A Room

A Room

A... Room...

A... Room....?

Catbox

The Gardens