three; video

[iustitiae]

[oh hello hadriel. it's "connor" but this isn't the silly laid back way he normally starts his posts, he looks very serious as he starts talking.]

Man, you guys are collectively the weirdest group of social media users. One day you're asking who ships what the next day you're making vague comments about something horrible someone did once. And it's always, "oh I couldn't possibly tell you what I did, but let me look for emotional support for my vast and intense guilt!" Please. You think you deserve sympathy for that?

[connor laughs, cold and bitter and shakes his head.]

I get it, I do. It's easier to not talk about it. Easier to live on the reputations you've built while you've been here and ask for help based solely on what people know than give up the ghost and actually show them the skeletons in your closet that you're so upset about. Maybe your friends will just imagine you cheated on your significant other once upon a time, or you accidentally lied to your mom, or you did something that, when we tell the whole story, actually sounds like it wasn't your fault at all. The kinds of things good people feel guilty about.

But let's face us - how many of us are actually good people? Why waste our time talking in circles about vague half-truths or covering our obviously deep-seeded issues with superfluous shitposting?

[he clears his throat and is quiet for a moment - dramatic flair, like he's about to drop some real truth bombs. (he is.)]

Here, I'll start: I killed my professor's husband with a group of friends. We covered up the murder like the good little future-lawyers that we are. We did a good job. We'll probably get away with it. Not that I'm likely to find out, since I'm stick here with all of you now.

[he's just going to let that...sink it. better to do it now before people start getting completely paranoid about the doubles than later on. but even if they figure out he's not his original - what does it matter? this wasn't some lie he was fabricating.]

That feels good, getting that out there. Now it's your turn.

video (forward-dated to 1/24); but i can't sleep until this is done

[skelebro]

[The whole world is ending.

Or something like that, he's guessing. Everyone's panicking, everything's burning, and people are running around like Icecaps with their hats off. Chaotic is a word for it. Amusing is another. Either way, there's a skeleton on your video feeds now. He looks just like the skeleton a lot of you are bound to know, save for maybe the look in his eyesockets. It's not the typical world-weary apathy that's more reminiscent of good old Sans. It's more like there's just an emptiness, bleak and cold. But even that's pretty hard to gauge; it ain't like the reading of skeletal facial expressions is common talent down here. Though the, uh, rather sizable crack in his skull, netted just along the ridges of his left eyesocket, might be pretty indicative that this ain't the same Sans.

From the angle of the video, it's clear that he's standing outside the charred remains of Tranquility's temple. He's got plenty of Faith that the decor will be perfect for the tone he's going for.

He looks pretty happy.

There's something very liberating about having reached The End. A number swells, and then it increases. And the last piece slots into place, the last sliver of anything resembling remorse boiled off and burned away.

It's not long now. But he's got one last task ahead of him before, at least, he and his ilk find their much-awaited sleep.]

So I've got a question for ya.

[His tone is a neutral, rumbling drawl, utterly placid and philosophical.]

Did anybody here really buy that innocent, bumbling comedian shtick?

[He opens a hand. A thin white trickle of something hisses out between his phalanges, rattling to the ground in a grainy patter of falling motes. He waits until the last of it whispers to the ground, softly, before flicking the last of it from his fingertips and continuing.

It's dust. Three guesses as to the monster it belongs to.]

Well, what can I say? I'm here to bring forth some revelation. Anybody stupid enough to buy that little act of his...

[He grins, wide - wider. No, w i d e r. And his sockets go pitch-dark, until it's like staring into a pair of black holes. A glacial bite creeps over his tone, razor-thin, the edges filed off, almost like there's something jagged and seriffed curving along the tips of the words.]

Allow me to prove you wrong.

[There's a low, dark chuckle, and the feed cuts out. He's looking for a FIGHT all right, and he won't be sated until he gets it. So come down to Tranquility's in fifteen minutes if u want an ass kicking. "Sans" here is delivering, and will continue to do so right up until his time is up.]

[[ooc: responses will come from fibia! Feel free to action things up so you can drag this edgelord to hell and back lol he deserves it.]]

How about a little public humiliation?

[turingmachine]

(At first, when the phone comes on, it's showing a nice view of the ground. Then it lifts, to show a most adorable blue face.

Said adorable face grins in a particularly adorable way. How cute!)

"Hi!"

(Awww... they move out of the way and the device reveals... another them? All tied up? And hanging upside down? Okay that's a bit less cute.)

"See that? That's me!"

(They make no effort to clarify that incredibly bizarre statement. The original Turing appears to currently be unconscious, or at least the robot equivalent of it... though as their double giggles over their situation, they start to come to.

Almost immediately, they begin to struggle.)

"Ah. Wha-what's going on?!"

(Poor confused little robot. The double cackles, before holding up a can of spraypaint for everyone watching this little display to see.

Though not precisely scared, the original Turing looks far from happy about that.)

"I'd tell you what I'm about to do, but you can probably already guess."

(Though momentarily stunned to silence, the original Turing quickly finds their voice again as their double begins to spraypaint them while everyone is watching, mostly to screech a combination of desperate protests and insults about what a jerk their double is.)

Video emergency call

[so_dark_a_road]

[ Shortly after Henry and Maketh are murdered by Maketh’s double, Curufin is standing by the rail of the bridge that crosses the river through the lower part of the city. It is dark here and a convenient location from which to take stock. ]

This is a call to any surviving members of the City Guard.

I’m your fellow guardsman, Curufin Fëanorion. As I hope everyone is aware, many Hadriel citizens are being impersonated by hostile unknown entities. One of these imposters has just murdered Henry Percy and Maketh Tua.

I’d like to hear from any Guard members who have avoided this fate, and from anyone else who wants to help. We are all in a very bad situation, and I hope we can band together to do something about it.