RECORDING 16: THE FINAL WEEK.

[foundationmods]

A sixth week in this place begins, with less of your number among you. It's feeling more and more like something's about to break.

There isn't any increase in Miasma, but you can tell it seems...excited. Overjoyed, like a predator bracing itself for the chase of the hunt. The fog is everywhere, and inescapable...

The Temperature is holding stead at the 50's, and nippy to need a layer or two. As before, the rooms have changed, so hopefully you kept anything essential in the static area.

13 of your number still remain.

...How will this all end...?

MIASMA LEVEL: 4
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[finalring]

Your last living stunt ended with me having a broken arm. And then what you did last week. Don't you think I'm allowed to be a little angry?

[ not that romani sounds angry at all. maybe it's something closer to frustration, but it's not angry. ]

So on Saturday. You really will try to eat us, huh?

[noneforall]

Is that what you'd call a stunt? Really? And need I remind you that you gave yourself that incredibly stupid injury by trying to counter magic with an ordinary gun?

[His tone is a little flatter, taptap taptaptap -- tap. The restless noises of him playing around with something that will probably annoy Saphir once he leaves it all in a mess cease in a moment. It's hard to tell, though, if he's annoyed or if he's simply shifted to the next ghost level of ghostly disdain.

Well, the miasma swirling around him swirls a little faster, the eye of a somewhat ominous hurricane, but them's the breaks of having a ghost in the room. His eyes narrow briefly.]

Try not to lump me in with the likes of that. It honestly doesn't matter to me how the rest of you meet your ends. Whatever happens, you will have brought it upon yourselves.

[finalring]

It's a stupid injury by someone that made an equally stupid move. Did you not realize that the miasma would adapt to your powers and counter it or were you that desperate?

[ romani doesn't seem particularly frightened by the swirl of the miasma, but he is a bit wary. and how can he not?

in a way, he agrees with subete's last statement, so he can only shrug. ]

You reap what you sow, right? I think that's a lesson that many of us have learned these past six weeks.

[noneforall]

[...]

[The miasma swirls, and swirls, something like a lightning storm and an inverted shadow all in one before it pauses all in one ominous line and sinks down around Subete's shoulders in a heavy cloud. It's probably smart to be wary -- though the stare Subete directs his way is all sharpness and displeasure, too unclouded to be entirely ghostly.]

Oh? Was there a smart move here, sensei? I wonder, because the longer we stayed in this hellhole, the more the miasma would have adapted no matter what we did. The longer the wait, the worse the disadvantage. Or do you think coming this far is particularly advantageous for any of you? Don't make me laugh.

[There's a roughness to the words almost like sawdust, sloughing off anger and exasperation and gnawing down to the bone of hatred underneath.]

If you're still saying such things, then you've learned absolutely nothing.

[finalring]

That is also a fair point, Subete. Just as you said, the disadvantages have piled up against us as the weeks continued and, perhaps, inside this house, we have no hopes of defeating any of you.

[ romani won't deny subete's words because, in a way, they ring true. even as the miasma increases and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the doctor is able to keep his head level enough to realize that as well.

he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the increasing anxiety in his chest. ]

But we'll see how things shape out. Even in the worst of times, we still have to try our hardest.

[noneforall]

Ha. Haha. This is why you're part of the research team, isn't it? All theories and reasoned discussion, and so little action.

What a well-reasoned death march.

[There's nothing like laughter at all in his voice. Just more wisps of miasma, escaping from his throat like the venom in his words, the little bursts of derisiveness curling together with the darkness downwards. Might want to keep your eyes peeled: the miasma by his feet is starting to spread out a little further into the rest of the room rather like dry ice escaping.

He finishes up with another derisive noise, sharper than the rest.]

So why do you bother to peddle a childish, foolish hope? Trying doesn't even begin to matter in places like this. There is only life or death. There is no such thing as if once you don't succeed, try, try again for survival.

[finalring]

...

[ romani is definitely standing up from his chair now, albeit slowly, as if readying himself to run.

still, he tries to keep his gaze mostly on subete, as he tries his best to choose his words. ]

You said it yourself. There is only life or death in this place. If we give in, then that is simply accepting death. Peddling that childish hope that you described is the way we will be able to reach for life. And I don't expect most of us to succeed but...if at least one does...then that's fine with me.

[noneforall]

[There's a quirk of his eyebrow, but Subete doesn't rise from his seat.

Tap, tap. It's dissonance now, the clink of metal on metal after so long a pause -- so much less idle and so much more like contents about to escape under pressure, echoing a little too much in the spacious stretches of the dining room and its incongruous metal-strewn cousin of a corner.]

There are things you can only do if you accept death. Sensei.

It's something you understand when you've really understood battle and death itself. [there's a flash in his eye, something darker and clearer than the miasma before it's submerged again] Death is the end for all and everything, and it is only the path you take there that matters. Reaching for life is just a fallacy. That is why I called you childish, you know.