nobody's in the mood for recording 6.9: the post-trial garden tea "party"

[tsunderine]

The flowers that bloomed at the end of the trial are ones that only seem to prove, continuously, that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Of course, it's only natural that many of the people are full of mixed emotions - grief? sadness? anger? frustration? maybe something else completely different?

But it's there, along with the end of the week.

Miasma still continues to be around, of course - but make use of the fact that this might be the last time it'll be at a low level one before it shoots up again.


Well.

Life continues as usual, disregarding any feelings that any of the house's occupants might be feeling.

So what are you doing these next two days?

Comments

[golden_dream]

W-What?

[It's such a sudden reversal that instantly the script is flipped and she's the one feeling vulnerable and off-balance. She can do nothing but stare in horror as she listens to his tirade. More than half of it is incomprehensible to her ears. She just doesn't have those experiences or the context Battler has for what happened on Rokkenjima, but the emotion in Battler's tone is undeniable and the sheer loathing in his words is unmistakable...

...it hurts.]

...

[Then, he moves. Her eyes go wide. Partially because Battler is running toward her, which she already surmised he wouldn't dare do, and also because something so completely bizarre and magical is surrounding him as he does it.

Rosa, of course, isn't mystical. She's a flesh and blood person, and not even some 'piece' manipulated by the witch for her game, yet... but she's easily knocked aside, crashing to the floor and actually rolling a few feet from the force of the impact until she's prone on the ground. With the wind knocked out of her, bright lights flashing in her eyes, she wonders... just what the hell was that?? Not just the power, but also the outburst.

She'd have plenty of time to be tortured by it. The terrible content of his words... Battler wasn't going to help her. He didn't care if she died. If anything, he'd prefer it. And he'd find good company.]

...

[A solid ten minutes later would be how long it'd take before she actually tried to right herself, feeling more than a little dizzy. To say nothing for standing up.]