week 0, monday

[reapertoire]

#REAPER MEET UP

At 7am on Monday, all of you have been abruptly woken up by being transported to a dark alley. Wait. Are there even dark alleys here? Where are you. What is with the music? Before you can question it too much, out of the darkness steps... The Host. All four feet and pissed off attitude of him. He's got his hands in his hoodie pocket as he nonchalantly addresses you: "Reapers. Like you know, you've been volunteered by your respective Composers to participate in this Game. Say hi. We'll be in contact at this time every week to give you your orders. Special orders have already been given for the week, so... fucking chill, I guess." game info ☠ setting ☠ statuses ☠ ic profiles private conversations ☠ murder proposals ☠ money full nav

Comments

[concertmaster]

For the rest of you without the special order, just blend in with the Players for the week. I'm pretty sure you can handle that much. I've got less than an hour until I've definitely got to be elsewhere, so if you've got any Reaper-specific questions that can't be handled at a later time, now'd be great. I don't take e-mails.

[fashionable]

[ Well? Guess who is usually on the other end of this? ]

Heeeey! I told you, you need to really work on your charm!!

[ But, she gives a smirk. ]

Where ya going, then? Pretty sure your job is to keep us walking the line of despair to keep the game going smoothly. If you don't take e-mails, do you take texts? Can I slide into your DMs?

[deductionary]

Calling's usually easier, y'know?

[fashionable]

Yeah, but who calls anyone nowadays? I can't vocalize an eggplant emoji!

[deductionary]

[ why is my canon like this, bsd still uses flip phones i guess ]

Haaah? What's an emoji?

[concertmaster]

I'd rather die. Oh, wait.

[#SARCASM, but:]

If you really need something, you better ask on Mondays or learn how to speak in code.

[fashionable]

It's ok, no one listens to what I say. It's like they tune me out. Part of my super duper charm!

[concertmaster]

Sorry, what did you say?

[... she was asking for that one he's not above low-hanging fruits]

[deductionary]

Ne, ne, how about coded puzzle letters.

[ :) ]

[concertmaster]

Sure, just send it to my address. It's 1234 "Fuck No" Street.

[alchemicalwater]

Um...what should we do if our partners attack us?

[Because she is pretty sure that Vanitas is that kind of an asshole but she doesn't want to blow her cover either.]

[concertmaster]

Oh, yeah. That guy's unhinged. Tough luck. I'm sure you can figure out some way to get out of it.

[well. he's unhelpful.]

[alchemicalwater]

[SO HELPFUL]

I'll...try my best...

But if something does happen, what happens to us? Do we go back to our own composers?

[concertmaster]

...Yeaaaaah, no. You get Erased here, it's like you were Erased back in your own Game. No freebies.

[darkearth]

You can ask us for help. [why is he here] If they are going to be Erased, too... maybe they won't attack you.

[alchemicalwater]

Maybe.

[That's what she's hoping at least.]

He seems to be looking for something, so maybe if I keep quiet and let him worry about that then it will be alright.

[darkearth]

Looking for something?

[rip undine caught in the middle of this soon to unfold madness]

[purrtagonist]

[hey hi hello guess who is JITTERY AS FUCK because he hasn't had coffee in two days because he's been pretending his love for coffee is his entry fee]

I distinctly don't remember this being a part of my contract.

[said coolly, although he's tapping his foot against the ground]

[concertmaster]

Funny, that's what I said before I was assigned here.

[shitty jokes aside:]

Your Composer volunteered you. You can take it up to them, but you're stuck with the assignment now. Tough luck.

[purrtagonist]

What? No, way. He wouldn't do that.

[. . . would he? even after saying it Akira gives pause, because, truthfully, he doesn't know the guy that well]

[WELL, EITHER WAY--]

Does this make you our Conductor?

[concertmaster]

[he just shrugs because. y'know. he doesn't know your composer either, akira!!]

Ha ha, fuck no. I'd never take on a hands-on position like that.

58 minutes later

[fashionable]

Hey, shota! Can you turn the fucking music off!?

[concertmaster]

[with noticeable earbuds in]

No.

[fashionable]

Awww, I mean, okay, that's a 7/10 on the Despair Scale then! I guess I'll have to stand here with bleeding ears.

[concertmaster]

Every fucking week. Yeah.

[is he saying the song won't change every week... or that they're going to listen to one song on repeat in each meeting? a mystery]