Reapsody Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reapertoire) wrote2018-01-06 08:26 am
reapertoire) wrote2018-01-06 08:26 am
Entry tags:
graveyard
 |
| Well, that sucked! That might be your first thought when you open your eyes to find yourself in a lavishly decorated room with a nice, soft bed. Or maybe you’re thinking about something else, it doesn’t really matter, since the only important thing right now is that you’re alive. Sort of. You’re still dead, but you also still exist, so that’s better than nothing. Whenever you decide to leave the room to venture out into the rest of the building, you’ll find that… hm. You sure have found yourself somewhere interesting, and there are plenty of places to explore. Foods from all of the weeks prior can be found in the hotel’s kitchen, as well as an entertainment center in the next room; just because you’re dead-dead doesn’t mean you can’t still have fun while the Reaper’s Game continues. Dare you try your luck with the ice cream machine in this weird place…? Or do you explore the mysterious board game that rests on the lobby’s table? Nothing’s stopping you. You’re absolutely able to leave the hotel, by the way. As soon as you step outside, you’ll find yourself in whatever area is currently open to the remaining Players for the current week. The only thing is, in addition to being invisible to the shadowy denizens of the RG... it seems you can’t interact at all with your fellow active Players in the UG, either. Weird! But that’s okay, you’re not totally alone in this limbo-squared! There are others around who you can interact with, and you might recognize them as the other people who have been Erased during the course of the game. In fact, there’s one rather special resident of this place... it’s none other than Dahlia Hawthorne. You might remember her as Utena Tenjou’s murderer from the first week! Upon seeing you, she smirks, welcoming you to the party. “Did you really think you'd seen the last of me? Welcome to the Under-Underground—the loser’s playground, a failure like the rest of us,” she taunts, swirling the teacup in her hand with an almost gleeful look in her eyes. Then, as if to preempt whatever the new arrivals wish to respond with, she rolls her eyes and adds, “The stupid name wasn’t my choice, by the way. As if I’d choose something that dumb to preside over.”  private conversations ☠ murder proposals ☠ money full nav |
no subject
no subject
Naturally, men are drawn to such a woman. Wouldn't you be, too? The mystery of her, who she was, the sort of things she got up to. Men from all over the world tried to woo her, but she was promised to a man named King Menelaus, who ruled over a city called Sparta. From then on, she was Helen of Sparta. One day, a man named Paris from the city of Troy came to visit Sparta, and he seduced Helen. Actually, Sappho wrote a poem about it... ah:
Some say a host of horsemen, others of infantry and others
of ships, is the most beautiful thing on the dark earth
but I say, it is what you love
Full easy it is to make this understood of one and all: for
she that far surpassed all mortals in beauty, Helen her
most noble husband
Deserted, and went sailing to Troy, with never a thought for
her daughter and dear parents.
...Well, she thought that Helen left willingly. Perhaps she did. I mean, the old legends say Persephone chose Hades herself, and they fell in love in the Underworld. I'm getting off track, though, haha.
When Helen left with Paris of Troy, it launched the Trojan Wars. Eventually, Paris was killed in the war, and Helen returned to Sparta to be with her husband. By all accounts, their marriage was fine, in spite of her infidelity.
That was incredibly long winded, thanks for listening! My point is: There are many ways for people in love to fight. In this case... would it be presumptuous of me to wonder if we Players are the metaphorical Helen of Troy?
no subject
no subject
[ lmfao ]
Regardless, I have to wonder if that's what they're doing here. Will we stay in Sparta, or flee to Troy? Who knows... I guess our decisions don't matter much anymore, anyway, do they?
no subject
[ a pause ]
You said something about being a character in a story once more— I'm sorry.. once was enough I imagine, feeling that way again.. it must be unbearable.
[ obviously she's not going to question the whole being a character at some point since y'know gestures to the people she's closest with here ]
no subject
[ just sayin'
this is her whole narrative: fuckin up others' narratives ]
...Thanks. It's all right, though. I'm here because I made that decision on my own... at least I have that.