WEEK 3: April 15th - April 19th

[cartesio]

Third Week

The peaceful times are over. Moloch von Zinzer was murdered, and Nine was sentenced as his murderer. Everyone in Cartesio knows that.

Although life goes on, it seems the town of Cartesio isn't going to forget the tourists' transgressions. Not only they commited larceny in the cinema, they also murdered and executed in their town! It's no surprise their hospitality towards the visitors has cooled down considerably.

Not only they're maintaining a tense cordiality with them, they also have started talking behind the visitors' backs. All kinds of rumors are starting to sprout, yet nobody seems to be willing to say it to the tourists' faces. Talking directly to most passerby makes them distrustful, and nobody seems to want to be in close quarters alone with them.

It's only matter of time before the relationship between tourists and Cartesio starts degrading even further.

In the lobby of the motel there's a few more brochures, and the maps have been updated once again.

Links

IC Rules
Guestbook
Room Assignments
Events
Locations
NPCs
Activity Check

Sunday
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday

[Welcome to the third week! If you want to contact the Sergeant, please post here!. Also please remember to submit your activity check!]

Comments

[amburere]

That's hero society for ya! National broadcoast and all of that. [ Cause this is fine. ]

[robitussin]

...Okay, but don't get me wrong, it's marginally less fucked up than throwing corpses around. I just want to go on record and say that.

[She has priorities, or something.]

[amburere]

And burning 'em to ashes? [ Throwing them is tme. ]

[robitussin]

Yes! Both of those things! Actually, let's just throw a blanket statement for everything that involves murder, okay?

[amburere]

No fun. [ But sure, sure. Amusement carries in his tone, but it could just be the mood, alcohol, or that he's distracted. They've been talking for a while now, and he's had a small ember in his left hand the entire time. With his thoughts drifting, he finally remembers to snuff the flame out.

On another day he wouldn't have let it burn this long, for good reason. He does his best to hide it, palm closed, but he sure is bleeding from where the staples on his hand meet his scars. ]

[robitussin]

[She notices the flame go out, and so she spots the bleeding; there's a momentary pause of surprise, but then she moves forward to reach for it instinctively.]

...You're bleeding.

[amburere]

[ He pulls back, but he doesn't actually startle that much. ]

Yeah, and?

[robitussin]

[She pulls back as he does, but she doesn't stop glancing towards his hand.]

We should at least wipe it off.

[Just some more of that thing which is definitely not concern.]

[amburere]

[ Stare then glance at his hand. ]

Grass ain't sanitary. [ And judging by how he hasn't bothered to move an inch, he's not getting up for supplies. ]

[robitussin]

[She rolls her eyes.]

Don’t be stupid. Just use your clothes or give me your hand, and I’ll use my sleeve.

[amburere]

...no thanks, I'll live. [ There's a fair bit of contemplation that goes into his answer based on his pause. Ultimately, continuing to be difficult wins out. ]

[robitussin]

[In response, she rolls her eyes.]

You are such a boy.

[And then, she continues with a question she's fairly sure he won't answer.]

How'd you get those, anyways?

[amburere]

[ That's a fair assumption, and on any other day in any other situation it would hold true. But tonight with a belly full of liquor, the secret in his mind, and the still stinging wound on his hand he answers. ]

You just saw, didn't you?

[robitussin]

[She glances at his scars for a brief moment, making an effort not to stare, before she continues.]

But if it was hurting you that badly, why didn't you... [Stop it, she doesn't quite say, but it's clear in her tone.]

[amburere]

[ He shakes his head, running his undamaged hand through his hair. ]

Ha. Can't. [ Can't say more, can't stop, can't remember—they all blur together. ]

[robitussin]

[She could ask what he means, but instead of what, the bigger question here is really...]

Why not?

[amburere]

[ Fire flares to life in his left hand again, even more intense than before. There's no moderation on it this time, and as close as she is it's definitely unpleasant. It's also much more poignant than normal red fire—clearly the vibrant blue hue is for more than just show. ]

Why would I? Lost my mind a while ago. [ Flatly, and without a care in the world. The admission is to himself, just like it was on the docks weeks ago. ]

[robitussin]

[Normally, she would absolutely address what he's saying - but this time, what he's doing catches her attention more immediately. With a tone that she won't be able to easily play off as anything but genuine concern:]

Stop it, you're going to hurt yourself!

cw self harm

[amburere]

[ ......!

The flame goes out like a lightbulb, bright blue and then gone in a second. The blood from his staples is flowing more freely now, beyond just a minor agitation. ]

Shit. This is gonna be annoying to fix. [ Cause that's clearly what's important here. Not the act in the first place, but that he went just a bit too far. ]

[robitussin]

[The blood, the deliberateness of it - it reminds of her of something she's been trying hard to forget. As such, when she speaks, there's something else mingled with the concern: desperation.]

Please let me see it. I can - get you bandages or something.

[amburere]

[ A beat and then he holds out his bleeding hand blankly. His cooperative mood likely won't last long, he's kinda on autopilot here as memories churn in his head. ]

...

[robitussin]

[She takes it gingerly, taking care not to pull at his staples. Tugging at her sleeve so it covers her hand, she presses it over the part of his hand that's bleeding, letting the blood sink into the fabric.

For now, she stays silent.]

[amburere]

[ The silence isn't the worst, though eventually he catches up to the present. A few minutes maybe, but who's counting?]

That's enough. [ As much as it might seem like a late rebuke, it is the truth. Without the fire to agitate it, and with the help of the fabric, the blood has slowed down to a trickle. He pulls his hand away. ]

[robitussin]

[She leans back as he moves his away, trying not to hold the bloodied clothing against anything. After a moment, she puts her hand on the grass.

Softly, after a few more seconds pass:]

You didn’t have to do that.

[amburere]

[ He just laughs, low and coarse. ]

Do what?