detentionroom | [KIN'UN]

[You needed an escape.

For a moment– however brief, or however not– you longed to get away. Perhaps you envisioned a vacation upon sunny, beachy shores, palm trees at your back and seagulls floating in the air. Perhaps you envisioned nothing at all, and merely accepted that anywhere but here would do. Either way. . .?

You blink. . . and you wake up slouched on a school desk, arms folded with head resting between. You lift your gaze and realize that you've woken up in the middle of a classroom, seated in one of the. . . uh, very few functional desks that remain. The others have been broken into pieces, with legs and splinters of wood scattered across the floor. Deep claw marks decorate the walls, having gouged the sheetrock with jagged, violent gashes. The window curtains are closed, but they too have been torn and ripped to shreds, with holes showing a dark and unidentifiable landscape beyond the four walls which trap you.

And written on the blackboard, in large, white letters that seem to glow in the midst of the dim room lighting, is a warning]

DO NOT GIVE THEM YOUR NAME.

[. . . you are not alone]

[Each and every new arrival awakens dressed in a high school-issued track uniform. The design is up to the players, but each uniform is already color-coded to match the group at large. Somewhere on your body is a new marking: a mysterious floral design shaded the same color as your track uniform. It is glowing very gently. And in your pocket you feel. . . something warm. Further investigation reveals a tiny little omamri, tucked away in your outfit, for safe keeping. Huh! What a nice gift!]

[For now, the front door to the classroom is locked. No matter how hard you try– with physical prowess or otherwise– the door cannot be opened.]

[But hey! You can poke around the area, if you'd like! Maybe get to know your new classmates. . . ? Try not to panic. For now, everything is. . . calm]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It is not costume.

No, indeed. Which would make you...?

[That answers her question well enough. He does not know what a tiefling is.]

[ and so, he answers another question. they—or at the least, she—has been Planeshifted or elsewise Banished to another realm. perhaps another sphere entirely.

fascinating.

and ... ]

Devil as which walks among men. Long-descended daughter of those who made ill-fated bargains with forces beyond their ken. To put it simply, I am tiefling. That is what we are called.

[Planeshifted and banished. Those terms would be so far from his ken; even now, he is trying to reconcile the idea of her everything versus still being somewhere. On Earth.]

The stuff of penny dreadfuls. And yet the evidence is clear.

[Literally standing before him. It is not costume, it is not makeup. She is... as she is. He does not know what to do with this information, and the fact that she uses "devil" only conjures up dark things in his imagination, given his era.]

Still, you choose a rather unflattering way to describe yourself, madam.

[ dispassionately: ] It is how other humans describe us.

["Other humans." What a strange thing to hear. And yet the fact that she chooses to describe herself in this way says enough on its own.]

How that must color your perception of me, then.

[Even though he feels as though he cannot fit into that category, never having met a tiefling. Though... he would be a fool to think that those in London would not react in a revolting way towards her. Even now, he does feel that undercurrent of uncertainty around her, amid the fascination. She's so very devil-coded.]

I might ask that you set it aside for now.

[ what humans always forget—or like to ignore—is that tieflings are human, too. a strange look passes over her face; she squints behind her glasses as though trying to find a crevice in his attitude that she can pry apart and get to the truth of it. determine that this is the truth of it. ]

I reserve all my judgment for now.

[She will find no such crevice this early on in their CR; if only because his face flickers so vividly with passing expressions, and frequently. But in that same vein, there is nothing evident that contradicts what he says.]

Good. And so do I.

[Devil-horns or otherwise.]

You must forgive my curiosity in the interim. No one looks like you where I'm from, not at all, and I have met many types in my time.

Edited 2025-07-19 19:53 (UTC)

Many, but not all, it would seem. Do I unsettle you? I am told we have this effect.

[ and she is curious—suddenly, deeply curious—to know whether that is true, when faced with someone for whom the conception of tieflings has not already been pre-established. ]

Edited 2025-07-19 20:15 (UTC)

[ ... ]

There may be no tieflings where I am from, but we are warned of the sins and temptations of devils and demons from a young age. There is that primordial part of me that is unsettled by your appearance upon first glance, yes.

[There's no point in being dishonest about this. She seems suddenly deeply curious.]

But if I were merely made of base instinct and primigenial emotions, then I'd be only a fraction of the man I am today. It is ultimately minuscule and unimportant.

[She's more fascinating to look at than unnerving, in a way.]

[ temptations? she'd laugh; almost does. every word from his mouth is at once an oddity and a comfort. at least, probably, she will not have to worry about being bludgeoned in the back of the head or blamed for the misfortune, if they cannot devise their own way out. ]

You are very unusual man.

Hmph! So I’ve been told.

[Girl you have NO idea.]

But unusual is a boon in times such as these. We will not sufficiently understand what’s happening to us with minds muddied with a lack of creativity.

Creativity is what saves us, then?

Creativity, courage, cleverness. Anything else you might think of that starts with a "c."

It will have to do.

[ she goes to try the door now. can't sit with herself unless she tests what she already knows to be true, or else she would have woken in here alone. ]

[He will not stop her, of course. The door will not open, though he is not the strongest here, so it is still worth testing.]

We're locked in. [he can't even pick it, what a shame]

[ jiggles it.

jiggles it again, harder. even hearing him.

...

turns away in disgust. ]

Bah.

[Yeah,] You might try this magic of yours, instead? Or do you need your book?

I cannot feel our Lady of Magic's Weave here. There are threads, and they do not answer to me.

[ she sounds strained ]

A weave?

[That is not how he might have envisioned the use of magic, but why would he? No such thing exists for him.]

Is it so easy to be cut off from it? Or is it a more baleful influence to blame…?

I have never been unable to pluck it before. I have never been on another plane before. It could be so many things.

[ her thumb goes between her teeth once more. the embers of curiosity catching a flame. ]

[That poor nail of hers.]

Or… no doubt a power that could tear individuals from other… “planes” might have no issue dissembling your ability to use spells.

[ ...........

back to the windows. she puts her face right up to the glass and shields her eyes with her hands, but even the faint glow from her forehead interferes with her interpretation of the amorphous shapes beyond. ]

[Holmes decides to sit atop a desk while she carries out investigations that he has already trodden. No comment. He will not sully her first impressions with his own.]

[KIN'UN]

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