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

[ well i'm not too afraid to make this worse ]

Mystra's Weave... I cannot touch it at all. All loose threads. I have never—

[ thumb between her teeth, in that divot in the nail. calm. stay calm. ]

Is it....

[Her voice drops even further, to just a whisper. Her own thumb keeps touching her chest.]

Witch hunters?

[ that touch, repeated. it stands out to her when so little in the way of body language normally does.

...slides. out of her seat. and starts to approach her overturned desk. ]

Those are practically fairy-tale. Da?

[When she approaches, she tenses up and leans back. In addition to the cover, she appears to want space.]

... ...I don't know.

Are they?

[ stops, half a step back... bereft of any idea what to do now. she doesn't know how to be a comfort. or even a reassurance. ]

... I don't know. [ ... ] Well. Even I am not knowing all stories. But if they are real, they will come for me, hm? Not little human girl. Because [ louder, clearer ] I cannot use my magic.

[The girl just looks uncomfortable at first, but then her brow furrows.]

What're you doing, don't just -- say that out loud!

[ why do i keep failing, here. what about my dogshit attitude isn't clicking? ]

I am not afraid. I have teeth and claws yet.

[ remember this for later. ]