#da6t
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what with da6 endgame starting, figured i could post some da6 specific things i’ve done over the last year :0
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“Look at me- pushing daises,
Asking for the one true reason.”
~ ☁☂☔
“Look at me- pushing daises.
I’m not ready- to lay this to rest.”
~~~~ ☁☂☔
#I've been listening to this song nonstop ;u;;#munart#haruna stuff#A great day to get a new hair-do#da6p#da6t
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trial 1.3 | mamimi (re: takahiro, michiko)
Mamimi frowned and rolled her eyes at Michiko's sudden outburst. It was true that Takahiro really did look guilty, but there was something they had all missed. Or, two somethings, actually.
"Uh, hello? I'm sorry, I wasn't even at the crime scene and somehow I seem to be the only person who remembers that there were two sets of footprints. They can't both belong to Yoshinoya."
She retrieved her keycard from her coat pocket and jabbed a finger at the picture of Takeshi's body that had been sent to everyone.
"Also, look at all that blood. I don't see any on Yoshinoya. Even if his sleeves are bloody, or wet, or whatever... don't you think the killer would be pretty messy after committing a murder with that much blood?"
She gave the makeshift court a toothy smile.
"And if you still care to know my measurements, I wear a women's size 22. Not that it could have been me. I've been wearing heels since we got here, and whoever made those footprints wasn't wearing stilettos."
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During this investigation. Kanon’s room is going to be unlocked. She trust you all not to steal anything (if you do she will find you).
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The real reason behind Akio’s murder...
He knew too much.
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prologue | normdays | mamimi (attn: jamie)
It only made sense to explore the hotel, given that it appeared that was where they would all be staying while in Ateitis. Not that Mamimi would know, of course. She hadn't yet seen her living quarters, though she ached to adjourn to her room. She knew, however, that if she did so she'd be likely to spend the rest of the day curled up in bed, set on shutting out the reality of this strange situation.
The hotel lobby was fine, she supposed, and her brief foray into the laundry room wasn't entirely unpleasant either. However, the moment Mamimi entered the hotel restaurant, she felt out of place. It was so high-end, like something out of a magazine - all polished silver and sparkling glassware. Gods, how she'd dreamed of one day dining in a place such as this, but now she felt more like a trespasser; like country trash sneaking around and gawking at how the other half lived.
Pathetic.
She tiptoed about the restaurant, before finding a rather secluded table, half hidden from the view of anyone hovering at the entryway. Taking in a deep breath, Mamimi pulled one of the chairs back, and sat down at the edge of the seat. Her posture was rigid with guilt, she still felt she shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this.
However, as moments ticked by, and nobody materialized from the woodwork to scold or outright yell at her, Mamimi relaxed. Feeling suddenly rebellious, she leaned back, kicked her feet up on the tabletop. Still, no one stopped her.
Even when she heard the sound of the restaurant's door opening, Mamimi didn't move. She didn't even flinch. Her back to the entryway, she was able to compose herself without the newcomer seeing; was able to replace her pleased expression with one of annoyance. She flipped her hair, and looked over her shoulder, seeming utterly disinterested.
"What?" She sniffs, before continuing. "If you're looking for food, I believe the kitchen is that way."
She points, lazily, at another doorway - this one leading to the kitchen which would service the restaurant if the hotel happened to be in business.
"The service here is terrible, but I wouldn't expect anything less of an abandoned city."
Is that her idea of a joke? Her bored sounding tone gives no indication one way or another.
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prologue | normdays | mamimi (attn: sosuke)
She had never been one for coffee, but even so Mamimi couldn't deny she enjoyed the coffee shop atmosphere. That was how she ended up peering in the window of the coffee shop, a rather forlorn look on her face and appearing in desperate need of caffeine.
Sure, she had planned to do a little exploring, but after spending only a few hours alone, Mamimi had found her mood slipping and was beset by the fundamental wrongness of this situation. Craving something familiar, she had consulted her keycard's map function and found the coffee shop the most agreeable option. After all, she had always done her best work at the local coffee shop. It was something about the people-watching, or perhaps the constant white noise in the background.
Of course, this place had none of that. Mamimi couldn't hide her dismal expression as she crossed the threshold of the establishment. It was silent, empty, as if they were the last people on Earth. Gods, she hoped not. While she couldn't deny that many members of this ragtag group of teenagers were attractive, (and that was a definite turn-on,) she'd rather be stranded with people she actually knew.
Vaguely, Mamimi registered that one of these strangers was in the coffee shop with her. Marvelous. She straightened, rearranged her features into a thin smile, and made her way behind the counter without greeting him.
Without a word, she filled a paper cup with hot water, and selected a teabag. She steeped the black tea for several minutes, and then mixed a liberal amount of sugar into the drink. As soon as it dissolved, she procured another cup, filled it with ice, and emptied her tea into it. That done, she stirred in condensed milk and floated half-and-half atop the iced tea. Thai iced tea was her one vice, and she didn't have any plans to give it up now of all times.
Satisfied, she took her drink and slid into the seat across from her coffee shop companion. She leaned forward, scrutinizing him, before drawling:
"Nice shirt."
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[chap 5] house callout [genta ft. big sad orikasa]
The days following had no doubt been taxing on many of them.
Well, if this entire event hadn’t been taxing to begin with. Murder was hardly a comfortable subject; especially when it happened graphically and happened to feature the bodies of people you’d just yesterday had breakfast with. However, following Chou’s death, Sarara Orikasa had taken things a bit… more personally than usual. Not that he couldn’t see why - a love story worthy of a drama serial of some sort took place just before her death, but…
… Well, that she’d holed herself up in the deceased’s room for days seemed to be a bit… excessive. Not that he was one to judge anyone’s grief, but there came a point when one’s coping mechanisms just became… erm, detrimental to one’s health.
Well, that, and he’d owed her half an apology and his condolences proper. Genta knocked on the door.
“Orikasa-san, it’s Sugai. Are you in?”
Logic pointed to yes - Sarara hadn’t exactly been known to be out and about since… well, the last trial. Still, steady transformation into a hikikomori within one’s deceased significant other’s room or not, it only seemed polite to ask. Even if… she maybe couldn’t technically hear him. These rooms were soundproofed, after all.
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[mrs. puff voice] oh dear neptune || exe reaction+normdays || ai || closed w/ genta
Even a total moron could see how much Chou meant to some. Senpai to some, lover to one, enigma to all, etcetera. It was difficult, awkward even, to watch the two lovebirds knowing one was about to die in a guaranteed horrific death. All that romantic build-up dragging on until Chou was yanked away to her pending doom was sure to make this experience hurt a lot more than it needed to.
And hurt it did. Hurt it did. (Classy music over an execution. Oh gee, what depth, round of applause for Monomi, ladies and gents!)
Ai jumped up at Chou suddenly slamming down in the middle of the courtroom, leaning over her podium to get a closer look at the mangled beauty. She visibly winced at the writhing girl, glancing over at Sarara right beside her. Was--was Monomi serious? Did she take Michiko seriously at last minute? If this is the amount of mercy they'll get, then--
*SPLAT*
oh. There we go.
The initial shock set in the court. The fact that a comically large flyswatter just flattened Chou into a pulp. Then eventually, it seemed Chou's final words got to them, Sarara especially. "We're all going to die." As if their previous soap drama-worthy moment suddenly lost its bitter-sweetness and the permeating scent of blood and crushed bone (Uh, does that even have a smell? Well you get my point.) hammered in the fact that another person had kicked the bucket under their own vote. Just like before.
As for Ai, she...stood. Covering her nose to block the overwhelming scent of Chou's crushed corpse, she looked to rest of her classmates, witnessing sense of despair several seemed to succumb to--Michiko, Sarara, Yuka. She blinked a few times as she balled her fists, still glancing around and waiting for someone to stand and speak up. Something--someone to break the damn doom and gloom. Are--are they serious? It was the same shit like the past three weeks, and they've been (relatively) fine, yeah? They've kept going--hell, it's amazing they've made it up to now. Why's everyone starting giving up NOW? WHY NOW?
...no. This wasn't the same as before. Two kids were gone this time--one of the most efficient (S-sort of. Let's forget that slip up, though, he's dead anyway.) investigators, to boot. No one was acting right all week, of course people like them would kick the bucket, right? To add to that...it felt different to see someone's life get snuffed right in front of your eyes rather than on a screen. There was a sense of doubt from a screening, perhaps of hopeful denial. Takahiro, Senji, Akio...even if their deaths looked very real, something about their purely on-screen deaths felt as if it was merely a movie. (Again, that's probably just hopeful thinking, huh?)
As the mangaka was itching for someone to break the silence, she looked down at the floor. Oh. Blood had gotten on her pumps.
---
Cue a bored Ai wandering into the second ward a few days after, still trying to find ways to ward off the bad vibes that still lingered after the trial. Sketchbook in hand, she had her sights on the costume shop. That could probably be good enough of a distraction for her--there didn't seem to be much people around, since the past few days consisted of silence and mourning (Christ, she knew it was serious, but geez.), so maybe there wouldn't be a mannequin fiasco like before. Shaking off the thought, she headed down the street until she happened to spot a familiar green-haired philosopher.
"Oh? Yo. Fancy seeing you here, Genta the Great."
Hoo boy. Don't think she'll forget about his princeliness, mourning or no.
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trial 4|post 8 | chou [r.e. everyone ; it all turns to dust]
TW FOR SELF INJURY
It had been a valiant effort. Chou wore shock poorly; showing expressions was… painful for both the bearer and the witness alike when it came to Chou. Regardless of how uncomfortable the situation was, it was happening,
There was no way out of this. Her last ditch recovery effort had failed spectacularly, and Chou stood before the congregation, scanning the gathering for any signs of life, shortly after hearing Sarara whisper about going to Italy.
There was no time for that. Not anymore.
“… It can be said… that in my life, I have been a straightforward, honest person. I was never one to hide from blame, considering I have been blameless. I’m no one’s favorite person. I’m no one’s favored talking point, nor am I someone of some… incredible note.”
She took a deep breath, making it clear they were actually building to something, while taking a moment to rub the blood off her mouth onto her sleeve.
“And, as a Super High School Level student, I felt I was better somehow. But now I see. Now I see the truth.
“We’re all the same, here. All of us. No matter how good we think we are, or how powerful, or godly, or even how small and insignificant we may believe we are… we’re all the same. Useless. Nothing. Nothing we are can possibly compare to another person’s accomplishments, or life choices, or anything.
“All we are is pathetic specks on the glass, ready to be cleaned off by the universe’s cleaning rag.”
It was obvious, Chou was starting to shake again. They swung their arms out, looking more manic by the second. Her glasses legitimately flew off during the movement, falling onto the podium, then onto the floor.
“We’re nothing. Nothing…! Impossibly small and completely and wholly arbitrary! And this isn’t even the fever talking. We’re nothing! WE ARE NOTHING! Useless! Pathetic! Disgusting! Worms! We’re all worms! Blind, unseeing, wriggling masses of flesh just waiting for death to claim them!!! I can’t WAIT to die! I can’t wait to be free of the pressure! Can you believe what it’s like, living under such constant tension? Being hated by everyone in your life sure doesn’t get easier as time goes on! It only hurts more! It does! It really, really does! I’m not trying you all feel sorry for me, I swear to FUCKING god that’s not the fucking case. There are so, so many assholes in this world. There are so many. And I’m one of them. I’m one of those beautiful assholes who walks with their head held high, and pretends they’re soooo good, when in reality, I’m just–!”
Chou gestured to herself, voice cracking as she let out one short laugh, tears starting to come from her eyes.
“LOOK AT ME! I’m– I… ah.. Hahaha….. HAH!! LOOK!!”
She pulled a pen from one of her pockets, lifting it into the air, clicking it to produce the nib. And, quite honestly, they slammed it in, stabbed themselves in the thigh, maintaining a completely vacant expression the entire time. Not a single sound came from them during the process of this. Silence, even while pulling it out, holding up the bloody pen, save for a burst of laughter immediately following that, as she dropped it on the podium.
“Numb. I’ve got nothing left in me. All there is left of me is…. Is…. nothing! I’m nothing! I’m nothing! I wanted to kill the STRONGEST mortals here! I played god and killed two assholes who thought they were soooo good, and above everyone else, but I’m the same! I’m nothing! I’m… nothing…!”
And she shrunk again, arms wrapping around herself, letting out softer, pained laughs, the very same tears slipping down her cheeks.
“Chains. You have to make sure… You let go of the chains of people’s expectations… Of what’s to BE expected of you, and your own inhibitions. In those moments… yes, in those moments, when your chains are gone… you can really see… who you truly are. And it seems there is no better fate for me… than that of a worm who so desperately wanted to be a butterfly…! Oh… my… god…! I’m empty…!”
Silence followed. Her fate was in the hands of the majority, and as god as her witness… Chou knew this.
And knew it all too well.
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[chap 4] the emperor's new brain [monotheat ft. genta]
As the vial was first handed to him, the Prince had scoffed.
“Do you offer us poison, Rabbit? This appears to be naught more than Windex.”
… Still, both Chou and Sarara had downed it without any fuss, as were others; if it would ease this headache, perhaps death or full-on madness would have been worthwhile. Bottoms up.
The results were… more instantaneous than he was expecting. Almost immediately, his headache had faded and the cold sweat that had taken him over the past few days had seemed to vanish, as if from thin air… and in its place, his awareness was drawn to a newfound difficulty breathing. Sucking in a low breath, he reached up gingerly to touch… a dent he hadn’t quite conceptualized in his weakened state in the side of the bridge of his nose.
That… probably wasn’t good. And neither was the chill on his toes, or the draft on his… erm…
Where in the name of every great philosopher were his pants.
A faint memory came to him, one of authority being permitted to do whatever he desired in public. Meaning he… the entire time…. oh. Wordlessly, he pushed his former ‘cape’ from his shoulders in favor of tying it around his waist, hoping to preserve whatever scrap of modesty he had left.
“……”
Maybe this could be …. mmmm…. overlooked in light of the Shakespearean-esque tragedy unfolding near the elevator. As much pity as he’d felt for both of them, he faintly remembered their abuses and recalled having said his piece. He was staying firmly out of that one.
He already had a slew of apologies he was going to have to make later anyway. He could tack that on to Orikasa-san’s, he supposed.
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exe rxn // sarara // isn’t it chouver...
[cw: serious unreality episode]
Blank canvas.
That was what one always started with, wasn’t it?
And x-rayed past the layers, the hidden corrections, the undersketch… that was what always lay beneath even a masterpiece.
She’d only been an arm’s length away from Chou, when it happened. One more second, and she could have reached out and…
Ah. That was her arm, wasn’t it?
Oh, Chou was right there.
She’d studied French for a time, hadn’t she? Rococo, Fauvism, Surrealism… she’d always had an interest. And the words being spoken, combined with the half-finished picture she had of the girl before her, fit together to make… something Cubist. Unnatural angles, which together gave a complete perspective of a form.
Chou was the perfect name for a young person like myself, as it’s multifunctional…
We’re all going to die.
It seemed as though the rest of the room had vanished. Just an infinite, white net of identical points. Whatever Michiko and Yuka were saying was beyond the four corners of this frame. There was only… the girl before her, her dearest heart, just a pace or two away.
…How were they alive with their torso bent like that, anyway?
It took two steps for her to close the distance between them. Then, just a moment to sit seiza beside them, the pool of blood coming up to touch her knees like a slow tide. The sight was oddly… out of place, as though she was just sitting by the woman’s bedside, waiting for her to awaken again.
“You can’t die. They can’t kill you. I won’t let it happen. So don’t say farewell, Chou. Chou. Ch— Ch…”
The same words as before, this time in barely a whisper. It was clear they really were addressed to Chou, as though the other woman could listen now. The same full-body convulsion as before was slowly taking her over, her eyes glassy in total lack of recognition of the classmates before her. And then… as though the life was leaving her own body too, she slowly crumpled next to the corpse, her face just inches away from what had been the other woman’s.
A voice that wholly wasn’t her own left her, still quiet as a ghost. For a moment, it almost sounded like Chou’s spirit really had returned.
“Fate isn’t done… Oh… my… god…! I’m empty…!”
It seemed Sarara wouldn’t move from this spot now, except by force.
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ch4 monothea 4 // sarara // chouly f*ck [re: chou]
What else, indeed?
Sarara had resisted crying until now. The combination of the adrenaline rush and her determination not to let her girlfriend see such a sight in her last moments had held her back. To tell the truth, while she was fragile in many other ways, she wasn’t the kind of person you could ever remember seeing crying in general — her feelings more often remained in the realm of the abstract, locked behind some door incomprehensible even to her.
But there was something about Chou’s response, and the soft, soft contact, that just...
Ah.
A door had opened.
(Chou really, really wanted her to have— a future.)
When Sarara shed the first tear, her forehead still rested against Chou’s, the smile she wore this time was genuine. Bittersweet, at the thought of what was to come, but... the earnest love behind such a wish, being made for her, made her believe the words coming out of her own mouth more, just a little.
“My dear— that’s... that’s a wish I’ll carry with me for the rest of my days. I will. But, until then... can you... watch over me? If you can? And I’ll tell you all about that long, warm life, when...”
A choked-up pause — as she reached up with both her hands to cradle Chou’s face, gazing up just as intensely, fingers lightly, lightly tracing the shapes everywhere she could reach. The gesture was just as much to soothe the other girl as to form, well... a memory. Sarara had a very, very good memory, but she didn’t think she’d ever be able to capture this moment to her satisfaction.
She could feel the tears flowing down her face now. They wouldn’t stop. How strange was that?
“I would have adored spending a future with you, Chou.”
The tears still streaming even as her eyes fell shut, that soft, pained smile still there, it seemed... that was how Sarara would remain, unless — until — the two of them were torn apart.
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ch4 monothea 1 // sarara // it’s not chouver yet!! [re: chou]
The fever had made Sarara truly fearless. At any other time in her life, she might never have accepted the antidote. But, seeing her girlfriend like this... she’d never been more certain that she needed to tell Monomi to lift the fever. If that was what it took for them to talk as the real Sarara and the real Chou, she would stare their death in the face with all the terror her heart could muster.
So, quietly, she chose fear. Fear, and tenderness, too vast for her to name.
Besides — she didn’t really think Chou Nakahara would go down that easily.
A sense of purpose none of her classmates had probably ever seen in Sarara before was present in her walk as she made her way to Chou’s side, downing the antidote in one shot. And then... for a moment she just gazed up very seriously, leaning up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her girlfriend’s ear, then fondly smoothing down the creases in their jacket.
“...Chou. I'm— so glad to see you again! I wanted to wait until... I could be truly certain it was ‘us’ speaking. And, well... I’m not sure whether what you said earlier was due to the despair fever, but I really wanted to talk to you about that.”
It was clear she had something big to say to Chou. Unusually straight to the point, and there was a strange, steely look in her eyes as they met her girlfriend’s. Was it the leftover adrenaline rush from the despair fever, or...? No. This was, without a doubt, the genuine Sarara Orikasa. The resolution in her eyes was different to minutes ago — not full of fearlessness, but something warmer, fixed entirely on Chou in that moment.
“...It’s... alright to be empty. You know that, right, Chou? It hurts, but... it’s not wrong. I promise I understand, because, well...”
A pause. She didn’t seem to want to focus this on herself — rather, her subtle goal seemed to be to give Chou something steady to focus on right now rather than imminent death — so she took another breath and tried again.
“Sometimes, I think, it’s impossible to escape the chains of fate or expectation fast enough. Or... even when you do break free, the damage can’t be undone. But, what we can do is... keep surviving until the very last. You were the one to remind me of that, Chou. We did that, together. And... for as long as you’d like me by your side, we’ll keep searching for a place where we can live the way we want to.”
Despite the urgent firmness of her words, the way she gathered her girlfriend’s hands between her own, strangely unshaking hands was nothing but gentle. So, in fact, was the chaste, tender kiss she then pressed to the gloved hands, eye contact still unfaltering.
“...I don’t wish to invalidate anything you said about yourself, but there’s one statement I truly need to correct. When you said you were nobody’s favourite person? You’re... well, you’re mine. And, more importantly than that, you deserve to fly free. I promise, my dear heart... you already are. Since the first time we spoke — I mean, really spoke — I’ve thought that if anyone could metamorphose beyond their fate, beyond anything, it’s you. But you don’t have to do it alone, Chou. Chou, I...”
Whether or not Sarara stated her love now, she was certain she was radiating it with every gesture. The fact had become impossible to hide. But... now wasn’t the time to selfishly state her emotions, and that really would give this speech the air of a goodbye.
Chou wasn’t going to die. She couldn’t. The very thought broke her heart with its impossibility. And she could profess every single feeling in that heart of hers, that heart that had grown so very large lately thanks to the woman by her side, once they were both somewhere far, far away from here. Right now, getting her girlfriend there was her duty.
“...I’ll... remind you of that every single day, you like, once we get the hell out of here. Ah... pardon my French. Now, my dearest... can I help you try and survive?
For Chou’s sake, she offered the smallest, most certain smile she could muster. And then... she finally tore her eyes from Chou’s to glance towards the elevator, with a look that said, ‘let’s go’.
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trial 4|post 9 | chou [r.e. genta ; chouwned]
She stood there, miserable, as Genta began to speak. She hadn't really expected... a response, necessarily. But god, she hadn't been hoping for one from... well.
Genta or Sarara. Neither of them. She didn't want a response from either in regards to this mess. They thought it best to just... die and get it over with, but no. There needed to be a few more nails in the coffin, so to speak.
Every new thing he said just.. made her break a little bit more. There wasn't any good reply to be made; he was justified, certainly speaking the truth.
Strange, she thought, considering he was normally the devil's advocate. But justified.
And a good part of her could recall the very, very first week they met. God. You know what they say... 'Never meet your heroes'.
In offering part of his sleeve, with the question that followed... that... was really... it.
"...No. No.Th... that's not who I want to spend my last moments as, Sugai-san. I was weak. That much is certain. And I'm sorry anyone had to see me like this."
Weakly, she took the torn portion of his sleeve, nodding in thanks.
"...It's not easy.. being green, Sugai-san. Forgive me for letting you down."
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