River’s Notebook
-> Two groups with their own goal
Our goal: Complete ritual
-> Map: Apartment building? City? Building, ground floor off limits
-> Length: Seven days, no repeats
-> No shadows – real setting
-> Own identities? Same position as others in building (tenants? cultists?)
Rules
-> Be social/communicate
-> Don’t try to leave
Other Group
-> Papyrus (Strength), Soot (Knowledge), Acorn (Social)
-> Goal: ???
-> Acorn “knows” us
Situation
-> Morning bell
-> Meals together on second floor
-> Logan (talkative) is a friend
-> Viewed as lovers? Partners?
-> Seven floors + open rooftop
-> Feeling watched/observed?
-> Miles some sort of leader? Talks about other people’s lives
Building
-> Ground floor ng (Fingerprint lock)
-> 1. ??? (locked)
-> 2. Meals, meditation
-> 3. Rooms
-> 4. Rooms
-> 5. Library, open rooms (also sports)
-> 6. Some rooms + ??? (locked)
-> 7. ??? (locked) cultist room? Miles talks in the evening (no symbolism?)
River hadn’t considered the difference in drinks, from what he knew, to all the time back when this setting happened.
When Aspen saw him, River was curled up on the bed, huddling his notebook to his chest like a treasure. He was staring off into nowhere, eyes a bit glassy.
“Hey? What’s wrong?”
Aspen freaked out for a moment – that was, until he noticed the smell anyway. It was definitely alcohol.
And yeah, sure, he had known River was going to get a drink. But surely River knew his own tolerance?
River answered him. Probably. It was too slurred to make out the details, but it sounded a lot like a whine or a complaint. Aspen followed the line of River’s frown and found the bottle of wine.
It wasn’t that empty. Maybe three or four glasses. That wasn’t a lot, but the smell on River was kind of heavy.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
C delmx mtfmx gfnfjifv atf lrref:
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“Tbe rtbeiv tjnf mtfmxfv”, Crqfc jwerfvis rmbivfv tlr qjgacfg, ktb weafis uijgfv yjmx klat tlr uijrrs fsfr jcv rilutais oiertfv mtffxr. “Qfii, kf kjcafv ab gfra jcskjs. Ofa’r ufa rbwf ubbv riffq.”
River appeared to agree with that. His grumble sounded like it.
Aspen had liked the last night, where he could cuddle into River’s arms to sleep. Getting into the same position this time was harder, as he had to fight to get River’s notebook out of the man’s embrace. But when he did, River naturally grabbed for something to fill the space, and Aspen happily complied.
In the quiet room, Aspen listened to their breaths. River held him tight and rubbed his hair with absentminded movements. He was half asleep already, so his breaths were long and even.
Aspen stared into the darkness for several minutes.
He loved the windows during the day, but at night, they frightened him. Even covered up, their existence made him feel uncovered and insecure.
River was in love with this game. Aspen… hated it.
He missed the privacy and silence of the other games. He missed the anonymity, the distance. But… it was worth it.
The light in River’s eyes.
The way they sparkled and shone.
Did River like it? The mundane life, the stupid conversations? The gathered breakfast and sitting together?
“I hate how calm it all is”, Aspen whispered, aggrieved.
A tired, dazed voice answered him unexpectedly.
“‘m sure there’ll be sum-thin fun soon”, came the slow words in between equally slow breaths. “It’ll all break…”
Stunned, Aspen held his breath.
Then he giggled, quietly, trying not to break out into loud laughter so River could continue to sleep.
Yes, this was the game of the Gamblers, so surely things wouldn’t be calm like this for long.
The joyful anticipation in River’s voice, the way he too looked forward to the chaos, made Aspen keep his smile even as he drifted off.
The next morning started as the last one had: With an obnoxious bell.
River had no real hangover, but he did have a slight headache, so Aspen helpfully got him a glass of water before pulling the other out of bed.
The stream of people to the breakfast room was peacefully mindless. Saying hellos here and there, giving short nods. It was a fuzzy and friendly atmosphere that lulled you in.
They got the same breakfast as yesterday and settled on the same table.
River automatically looked around but…
“Where’s Logan?”, he asked the people at the table. He wasn’t the only one to look around.
“I don’t know”, a stranger said with a frown on his face. “Haven’t seen him in the hallway either… I hope he’s not sick. We wouldn’t be able to visit him.”
“One of us should ask Miles about it”, a worried older woman suggested, also scanning the room for the familiar face of their amicable companion.
“We’ll go”, Aspen volunteered before anyone else could suggest to do it. “Or rather, I’ll go. You continue to eat.”
Aspen hopped from his seat and patted River’s shoulder.
Miles was easy to spot. He himself didn’t stand out at all, but he sat at the largest table in the corner. Seeing Aspen approach, the old man smiled in amusement. “How rare to see you alone”, he teased.
Others gave little laughs at the comment. Aspen ignored it, directly approaching the topic. “Have you seen Logan around? Is he sick?”
Given Miles’ connection to everyone, the old man was bound to know something.
And indeed, the man’s face clouded over with worry and sadness. The conversations around the table stopped. People were listening.
“Logan had… an accident”, Miles evasively responded. He sighed with a downcast expression. “He’s in the infirmary right now. If it’s you, they might let you in for a moment to see him.”
Infirmary?
That had to be one of the closed rooms. Great. Which one was it?
“Okay. Thanks for telling me.”
What a hassle. Did that guy slip and fall in the bathroom or something?
“He’s in the infirmary”, Aspen informed everyone when he returned.
“Oh no! Do you know what happened?”
Genuine shock and worry spread through the group.
“Miles didn’t say.”
The atmosphere was bleak. River mindlessly chewed the inside of his lip, having a strong suspicion.
He had a feeling…
…That the game had truly started.
The infirmary was a place that you couldn’t just enter for no reason. It was locked if there was no one inside, for all the medication was to be carefully protected.
River and Aspen, acknowledged as good friends of Logan, would be allowed to visit him for a short moment, but most people wouldn’t. They barely managed to convince someone else to come with them, even if he had to wait outside, just so that they’d know where to even go.
It was on the first floor, at the end of the hall.
River knocked gently at the door, and a couple moments later it opened.
The woman that stood on the other side was dressed in a white coat. She was scanning everyone with cold eyes, her voice monotone and annoyed. “Anyone hurt?”
“No. We wanted to visit Logan. We heard he’s here.”
The doctor clicked her tongue. “One visitor only. Five minutes tops.”
The three people’s eyebrows shot up. Quick silent glances had them deciding for River to go, and he entered the infirmary silently.
It was uncomfortably white and sterile, smelling of alcohol… and surprisingly a lot like blood.
The doctor kept her voice low. “Don’t bother him too much.”
She moved back the white curtain around one of the beds, her gaze pointedly neutral.
There wasn’t much left of the joyful Logan from yesterday. He was deadly pale and attached to a heart rate monitor and IV-drip. His eyelids flickered, a pair of tired eyes falling on River.
Logan tried to tug his lips into half a smile. He quickly stopped the motion, though his eyes conveyed the happiness at seeing a friend.
He raised his hand so weakly that River grabbed it without thinking.
“How are you?”, he asked softly. He could fake his tone well as long as he thought of Logan as Aspen lying there, strengthless and exhausted.
Logan did not reply. His lips moved slowly, very slowly, as his mouth opened.
And without the need of a single sentence, River understood everything.
In the open cavity of Logan’s mouth, the only thing left of his tongue was nothing but a short, cauterized stump.
Accident.
Accident, alright. Unless Logan had somehow managed to accidentally bite off his tongue and then calmly used some tool to burn the wound shut, this was not an accident, and no one who saw it would think so.
He wanted to ask questions – Logan could nod and shake his head at least, or write something down maybe. He needed the info, but-
“Alright. Time’s up. Get out and let him rest”, the doctor scolded.
“That hasn’t been five minutes!”
The woman ignored his scowl and grabbed his shoulder. “My patient, my law. He needs rest, not bothersome visitors.”
Annoyed at the interruption, River didn’t let the topic drop. Despite appearing slender, the woman was strong enough to force him to walk forwards, even more so when he didn’t dare go against her. “What happened to him? Where is his tongue?”
“Don’t know, haven’t seen it.”
A strong push, causing him to stumble forwards, and the door slammed shut behind him.
Shocked, River stood as he was, staring back at it.
Was this normal here, too? Did people just not care about the possibility of a violent criminal running around?
“What’s wrong with Logan?”, the worried stranger hurried to ask him.
“He… had his tongue cut out…”
The stranger’s expression soothed River’s confusion a little.
Not that normal. Okay, good. So his common sense was still worth something, after all.
thanks for great chapter (〃´∀´〃)
Thanks for the chapter! I binge read the last 3 chapters and oh boy. Quite the uncomfortable situation with Acorn.
I’m really curious about the current mystery !