Cartesio NPCs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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cartesianism2018-10-26 11:01 am
cartesio) wrote in cartesianism2018-10-26 11:01 am
WEEK 4 - April 27th
Week 4: Investigation
A late frost has settled over Cartesio. Ice clings to the grass, to the variety show stage, not yet melted by the sun. How could it be, as it's yet to rise Friday morning?
It is only technically Friday, as the planned variety show reaches into its very final hour. Nearly everything on the schedule's been completed, and the cleanup process has begun.
That's probably why no one expects it, not now. Not this early. It's hard to miss, whether you're attending the show or getting some rest. After all, the sound, it comes from somewhere close to the motel. Somewhere close to the show.
Three gun shots ring out at one in the morning, echoing through the park. Something has gone very wrong.
It is only technically Friday, as the planned variety show reaches into its very final hour. Nearly everything on the schedule's been completed, and the cleanup process has begun.
That's probably why no one expects it, not now. Not this early. It's hard to miss, whether you're attending the show or getting some rest. After all, the sound, it comes from somewhere close to the motel. Somewhere close to the show.
Three gun shots ring out at one in the morning, echoing through the park. Something has gone very wrong.
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[ Bolin tries to delicately push his way through the townsfolk as he hurries closer to the stage ]
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but going around the left side of the stage, working his way to behind it, looking to see if he can find anything ]
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Who’s there?! Show yourself!
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[And, raising her voice as best as she can over the crowd:]
Everyone, please, this way!
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Blood pools on the icy ground, dripping from what's clearly a fresh body. Horrifyingly enough? The person you is stuck with his back arched, the blood falling from his chest. Bloody froth clings to his mouth. His face is contorted in pain, agony.
After all the work he did to put on this event, is this how he deserved to die?
Forsythe Pendleton "Jughead" Jones III is dead. ]
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[ SCREAMS ]
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She turns and nods to Oda, then shouts (or rather, speaks in a really loud version of her normal voice).]
Here.
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[ oda grits his teeth, but tries not to pay attention to the victim. instead, he’ll look around for signs of anyone suspicious. ]
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It takes Keith a second to react, but then he kneels down besides the body, hand on his neck feeling for any sign of a pulse. Maybe... maybe this being so soon??]
Someone get help!
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[This is such a judgmental noise. Probably not towards Jug though. But seriously, what the fuck.]
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[Gerard lets out a sorrowful screech, leaning down to nuzzle Jughead's cooling body.]
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I'm so sorry... it seems our efforts were for naught.
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...
...
Oh. Okay.
A long pause. And then, movement resumes. She'll focus on evacuating the crowd for now.]
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She arrives at the area just in time to see him like this, and then she just stops. Teeters a little, like she’s unsteady on her feet, and stares. There’s a dawning look of horror on her face as it sinks in.
What? No. No, no—