Super Sweet Secret Slumber Party

[killtheanimals]

[It's Thursday night.

Everyone's sick. No one but maybe Chloe is having fun. All that's left is to see what happens first - the death of them all, or the death of one.

But for Cabin 2 at least, all remain here.]

Comments

[soylentprotag]

Is it? I don't think so.

[He sinks a little into the chair, curls up as he coughs a little more. He did get a fresh dishtowel; he'll properly launder the lot later, because yes. He believes in a later, fiercely and with everything he has. He'll make sure of it.

Lenka's going to snag a cracker and taste-test. He really hasn't had an appetite for a few days now, but the pragmatic part of him knows he needs fuel occasionally. He has too much to do. It's just getting harder to sort that out as Thursday wears on.]

There's enough of us to justify a stash.

[killtheanimals]

[Mitsuru doesn't much react to Lenka grabbing a cracker as well; he's mainly staring his own down like that would perhaps cause it to leap down his throat.

Still no appetite whatsoever.]

Then someone will need to kill soon.

[soylentprotag]

We're looking for a different way.

[It's always darkest before dawn.

Lenka knows, he knows, that their chances are dwindling as the days wear on and they chase what little leads they can amass in what time they've got -- and death snarls at his heels, as it always has, as it always will. His voice doesn't waver. He'll delay it, he'll fight it, as long as he can.

He pushes a few crackers towards Mitsuru.]

The cabin, and everyone... we'll need your magic.

[killtheanimals]

[For all he's been through, never before has death loomed so closely. It's a terrifying threat, one he's thus far been completely powerless to fight.

The thought strikes fear deep into his heart.]

You've seen everyone. We're not going to last much longer. [Chloe, maybe Cielo, Gonta, Lillith weren't deathly ill, but...

But that's not what that voice had promised, now is it?]

My magic can't do anything about that.

[Another drink, to soothe his throat. The crackers remain untouched.]

[soylentprotag]

[He knows what it's like, for Death to simply saunter in and take what it wants -- anytime, anywhere, anyone and for years and years he'd just gritted his teeth and watched and sometimes taken a few futile swings at it. Death was a shadow and a living thing around every corner, each time you closed your eyes at night and every time you let someone out of your sight.

He'd found the means to fight it, even if not the means to defeat it completely. It was something. It is something. He still wants to go home, to change it, to change the world.

But he has to change things here. It doesn't matter where he is, in a sense: where there are people, he has a purpose. He protects people. That's what he's for.]

Your magic can protect us from things other than disease. We've tested that.

[It's not quite humorous, now that they're here, but he's also serious about it. They need to take what precautions they can, while they work for other solutions.]

We have until the weekend, if the radio is right. We'll make the most of it.

[killtheanimals]

If my strength holds...

[He doesn't sound optimistic, however. Talking hurts, and if he grew unable to speak, he grew unable to incant. To say nothing of his waning energy levels otherwise...

Finally, he takes up a single cracker, nibbling on it. Despondent.]

[soylentprotag]

If it doesn't, there's the rest of us.

[They're... an interesting mixture of individuals and abilities, but there's absolutely enough of them to at least cover the exits, especially if they manage to prop Dyaus up somewhere (though it's debatable how well Cielo will take to transforming at this point). But the point is: they're all here, and this is why they had to organize the cabins.

It's partly for safety, certainly -- but also partly for morale. Yesterday had... more or less proved that. Probably. Maybe.

Despite his slumped posture and the mildly nibbled state of his cracker, there's no doubt in Lenka's voice at all.]

[killtheanimals]

[Mitsuru's only answer to that is silence, chewing carefully on the crackers, forcing himself to swallow and chase the dry food down with water. It ends in wretched coughing a few times, but it doesn't immediately return, and that's a tiny, tiny comfort.

He manages most of one bag before he gives up.]

...We should go back.

[He just wants to lay down again.]