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trusthell2017-03-25 11:58 am
wordsmithery) wrote in trusthell2017-03-25 11:58 am
Taking Responsibility.
| Despite the lack of a body, despite the fact that you've initiated the investigation today of your own volition rather than due to some sense of formality and obligation (to the dead, to the rules, to the session), it seems that the Wordsmith is aware of your activities regardless; as such, when you finally leave that hidden area on the seventh floor and move back toward the stairs, you'll find that the elevator is already waiting for you. Perhaps it's unsettling, in its own way; perhaps it'll only serve to make you more determined. Either way, the ride up is swift and smooth as always; when the door opens, however, it becomes immediately obvious that the courtroom itself has changed. The podium circle is still standing in its spot toward the front of the room; three more have joined the ranks of the deceased since you were last here - Mikazuki, Watanuki, and Bruce Wayne's portraits have been set up on their podiums; however, theirs aren't the only ones that have been covered - all thirty podiums have been draped in black, the fabric spilling down over the wood, almost to the point of reaching the floor. That isn't the only difference, either - Kageshirou is far more visibly present today, in a way that's impossible to ignore. The walls in here appear cracked, much like the one in the foyer, dark silt and shadow spilling down to pool on the floor like contaminated water, like blood. A fair amount of it seems to be emanating from the lectern high above, the one place in this room that doesn't seem to have taken damage like the walls have; regardless, the darkness of the shadow entity spills down heavily from there, constantly pouring down like some sort of waterfall, thick and ugly and thankfully dissipating into the floor before it can touch the circle where you'll be standing. The circle is one of the few places in this room that's clear of it, actually. As repulsive as this all may be, however, the lectern remains empty, standing cold and unaffected by any of this; once everyone has found their place in the circle, the Wordsmith's voice can be heard addressing everyone, as always. "Welcome, Apprentices—I thought it likely you would want to find yourselves here today, and we have now gathered for what I am sure you need not be told may be one final time. Is there perhaps something you wished to discuss?" There are only eight of you left, and it seems you've reached the end of the line. There isn't much else to do but try to win, in any way you can. Best of luck to you. |
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[Good to see you over here, buddy.]
Elda and I investigated another chapel. The pews were all...burnt, and beaten, first of all, and the candles at the pulpit, they...most all of them seemed to have been recently lit, the same with those in a small alcove. ...Those candles were surrounded by this white flower. I believe it's a hydrangea.
Additionally, I found a hidden compartment under the candles near the pulpit, but...whatever it was used for, I don't know. It was empty.
It seems Elda found some notes that I will let her explain.
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"There was a time when I held a very strong faith indeed. Though I still hold to pieces of it, I have drifted somewhat over time."
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In our conversations, he seemed interested in my nature as a god. How I am merciful. Maybe the others he's encountered aren't.
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You're an outlier among gods I know of, Hanyuu.
[ Or at least, so Elda believes.
But she doesn't want to drag that up again, so she's just going to brush her hand over Hanyuu's shoulder as a sort of contact/handwave ]
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I don't agree, but maybe that's a human thing.
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Optimism and hope. Those are faith, are they not?
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Looking at Lusamine: ]
Perhaps, though again, I would not choose that word.
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[There's a difference between faith and trust, isn't here?]
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Faith is many things, depending on one's definition.
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[Belief in yourself. In friends. In miracles.]
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Trust, belief, all of those suit the mood, yes. [ What Hanyuu said ]
In my case, though, it isn't a perfect fit, but I put my greatest stock in love.
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"Time is becoming a precious limited resource to me. But my goal is close, I am certain of that. It has to be.."
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[ . . . ]
Also that he's running out of time, so Sisyphus might not be the right metaphor.