Week 7: May 13th - May 17th

[cartesio]

Seventh Week

The tense truce that had covered Cartesio was over. The town, feeling betrayed after having given a chance to the outsiders, pushed back. Enraged, they started getting even more daring, starting to get into the tourists' only safe haven: their motel rooms. They don't manage to break in, but it's not unusual to hear thumping on the doors, someone trying to get in. The windows are almost perpetually broken, there's so much graffiti on the ground floor of the motel, both inside and outside, it's hard to know what each one is saying. Can't be anything good, that's the only thing that's certain. The lounge's furniture has been tore to pieces, the lobby only has the guestbook intact, and the planters in middle of the motel are broken, the soil and plants strewn around.

The residents of Cartesio are near their breaking point. The despair, fury, and desire to get rid of the outsiders so everyone can return to their peaceful lives, have covered the town. It won't take long before they reach their breaking point, and if they do...what will happen to the visitors?

The Sergeant's grip on the town is total, and next week is the one marked as END. It seems like there's no way out, like the Sergeant won.

But you can't lose hope. You have to remember: now that you're on your darkest hour, the only way lef to go is upwards. Things can get better, you have to make it happen!

In the lobby of the motel there's a few more brochures, and the maps have been updated once again. Don't mind that some of them have been damaged in one of the attacks on the motel.

Links

IC Rules
Guestbook
Room Assignments
Events
Locations
NPCs
Activity Check

Sunday
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday

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

Comments

[robitussin]

[She blinks.]

What about it?

[marmoron]

[Like it's just one word:]

Staywithme,.

[robitussin]

—Oh.

[Despite having just asked him that last week herself, there's a trace of embarrassment in her voice, too.]

Yeah. Of course.

[marmoron]

[Okay, so he's still alive. Cool. Still not looking away from the wall though.]

Great. I'll... leave you alone then. Sorry for interrupting you;

[robitussin]

What?

[She blinks, glancing his way.]

No, you don't have to do that. I mean... Not that you, like, can't if you want to. Just - you don't have to. You know.

[marmoron]

[...well now that he feels like he can't??

He glances at her briefly, then looks down at the piano stool. He breathes out.]

I... [Help.] ....okay.

[robitussin]

[She pauses for a moment as well, trying to find something else to say.]

Do you want to, uh... Hear another? I mean, you don't have to.

[marmoron]

[Just give him a moment to relax, get unprickly and...]

I do. Really.

[He's sounding honest there, even if eye contact is still not happening.]

What's your favorite?

[robitussin]

My favorite?

[She takes a moment to think about that before she gestures for him to come take a seat with her on the bench.]

[marmoron]

Yeah.

[There's no reason to hesitate before moving to sit with her, but there's still a pause before he does just that.]

If you want.

[robitussin]

[Another moment or two goes by before she starts to play.]

[marmoron]

[He's quiet while she plays, watching her hands. He's not really a big music person, hasn't given a whole lot of thought to what musical tastes say about people, but weirdly enough the song kind of feels like Natalie. A little melancholy, but hopeful nonetheless.]

...It's pretty.

[Again earnest even if it's an oversimplification of what he'd been thinking.]

Why's that one your favorite?

[robitussin]

[She tilts her head slightly, glancing at the keys.]

I don't know if I'd say favorite. It's hard to pick when you like a lot of them. But... I don't know, it's simple, but effective. You get what feeling he wanted to convey when he wrote this.

[marmoron]

[He glances up at her.]

What's it feel like to you?

[robitussin]

It’s... gentle. You know, comforting, I guess. Tender. It feels like caring about someone.

[marmoron]

[Asking the question was such a mistake. He looks down again as color rises to his cheeks.]

...yeah, I can see what you mean by that. [...] Hear.

[robitussin]

[She nods, glancing his way, and then...]

—Oh my god. You’re blushing.

[marmoron]

[Oh my god, shut up??]

I'm not. It's just -- [Quick, think of something. Anything.] ..hot?

[...he's so doomed.]

[robitussin]

[She can't help but grin.]

Really? That's what you're going with?

[marmoron]

I'm not going with anything, alright?

[As he very pointedly continues to look at anywhere else but her.]

You're just giving me a hard time.

[robitussin]

I have to find happiness here somehow.

[And apparently it's by teasing.]

[marmoron]

[Getting a look, Natalie.]

Does it have to be at my expense...

[robitussin]

Is there something else you would suggest?

[marmoron]

...It'd be nice if we could both be happy?

[robitussin]

...Yeah. It would.

[She pauses.]

Keith?