psalm b!

You are awake in darkness.

The sky above is black, not a star or moon in sight. Fog surrounds you, weaving through the trees—are you in a forest? There’s grass and dirt beneath your feet, but you don’t feel dirty at all. In fact, you don’t even remember standing up, despite the fact that you are obviously standing right now.

You also don’t remember picking up the scrap of paper in your hand, but you hold it anyway. Lifting it to eye level, you find that, predictably, it’s impossible to read. It’s so dark—

“Rise and shine!”

The voice doesn’t ring out loud—it’s unlike anything you’ve heard before. In fact, you’re not sure you’re really hearing it at all. It sounds more like someone speaking directly in your mind. It’s… difficult to identify anything about the voice, really.

"Good, good! It’s working! Now, I’m sure you are quite disoriented, but rest assured! This is exactly how things are meant to proceed!”

… This means nothing to you.

"I’m afraid I won’t be making a personal appearance until later, because, ahaha, that would certainly be overwhelming! Instead, I’ll graciously allow you all some time to get your bearings.”

Wait, you all? Does this mean there’s more of you?

"As you mingle, though, I’d advise you to adhere to the name written on your ticket instead of the one you held before. Names have power, and you never know who might use yours against you.”

That’s… a bit terrifying, if you’re honest.

"And that’s not even getting into your gift—ah, I digress again! I’m simply so very excited to meet you! Take some time, explore your surroundings, see if there’s anything… strange about you, so to speak. But I’ve been so kind as to give you a hint in your carriage—investigate there if you find yourself stumped, will you?”

Again, this means nothing to you.

“Now, I’ve business to attend to—walk onwards! The circus awaits!”

And with that, the voice dies out, leaving you alone with your thoughts… and this scrap of paper. Which is supposed to be a ticket. You guess.

… Well, it’s not as though you have anything better to do, do you?

Later, you’ll find this particular dream difficult to recall. It was a comforting dream, that much you know for sure. Were you someplace familiar? Or did you seek solace in the unknown?

Thinking on it more—ah, yes. You weren’t alone in this dream, were you? You had a conversation. You can’t remember what you discussed or who you discussed it with, which you find quite sad, because you do remember that it left you feeling nice. As though you were talking to an old friend or an adored family member.

But you weren’t talking to them. You were talking to someone else. Someone who you are certain was a complete stranger.

Who was it again?

Who was it?

You don’t know. It’s futile, because however much you strain your mind, it’s been said before—you simply don’t remember the details of the dream…

… the… dream… ?

Ah, that’s right. It was a dream.

You’re not dreaming anymore.

There’s hardly a soul alive who hasn’t heard of the Vanishing.

A terrifying phenomenon, one that wrenches sleeping people from their beds without so much as a trace—only to put them back much later, just when all hope of finding them again is gone… utterly devoid of life. Dozens are confirmed to have succumbed, and while a scant few claim to have returned alive, they conveniently seem to have no recollection of anything to do with their predicament.

Perhaps it’s affected you. Perhaps it hasn’t. Perhaps you’ve followed the establishment of the Vanishing Task Force, an international organization intended to investigate the phenomenon and put a stop to it for good—if you have, you’ve likely felt betrayed by their lack of results. A few statements here, a few nods from governments there, and that’s all.

And the Vanishing continues.

Still, life goes on, and it’s easy to forget that the Vanishing exists at all. Everything is normal. Your life—whatever your thoughts on it are—is yours. You fulfill your daily routines. You talk to people, or you don’t. You are a single speck of dust on this vast planet, and you are nothing more.

Perhaps most universally of all, you sleep. Maybe you’re turning in for the night. Maybe you’re taking a quick nap—surely nobody will notice if it’s only ten minutes, right? Or maybe you’ve driven yourself to exhaustion.

Whatever the situation—you sleep.

Never underestimate the power of frightened people in large groups. 

Psalm awoke to a concerned Masataku shaking her, looking out beyond the entrance to their tent as she sat up and rubbed her eyes (out of habit more than anything - she was awake the instant she opened them). Hanging back for a moment, she trails after him, in no hurry except to keep pace with him.

This didn’t surprise her, after all. There was no shock value, no flash of panic. Someone died, as somebody had to. All that was left was to find out who it was. (And if she quickly scanned the crowd blocking the view of the body for familiar faces, well, she just wouldn’t mention that.) 

Some people might have blanched at the sight of a dead body, life drained out of it, blood sticky and staining its skin and hair and clothes. Some people might have taken a moment to stand there in shock, to grieve. Some people might have gotten sick. Psalm, if it’s not quite obvious at this point, is not some people, and she never has been, so she merely pulls her hair back at the nape of her neck and kneels by the body.

“Well, this certainly livens up the morning, doesn’t it?”

Name: Cinderelle Bellerose Time of Death: 11:02PM Time of Discovery: 6:55AM DIscovered By: ???, Toyo, Iyona Location: Dining Hall Cause of Death: Exsanguination

Behind you was none other than Komori, looking just as peppy and squishable as she always did.

“Oh! Someone did it! One of you finally killed! I wasn’t expectin’ you guys to off that sweetie teacher but I guess it works. Eheh…. It was about time one of you took this sewiously anyways! Since a murder has occurred I’ll go ahead and explain the next part to you all!”

“When three people discover the body the game moves into the next section: investigation mode. I’ll be giving you all a couple hours to thoroughly investigate the murder. After that we will be moving on to the trial portion where you will all use the evidence and clues you found to try and vote for the correct killer! This isn’t optional by the way. You have to do this do don’t twy and weasle your way outta investigating!”

She claps her little bat wings together with a smile.

“It sounds fun doesn’t it? Since everything is more or less explained I’ll go ahead and let you all begin your investigations. I’ll notify your tablets when time is up, okay~? Have fuuun!!!”

“Oh and don’t take any of the evidence away with you either! Or else you’ll get in trouble.”

After that she waddles away once more, leaving you alone with the corps of your teacher. Someone here really murdered Miss Bellerose, huh…? For her sake you better recollect yourself and find out who would have done such a thing.

That and ‘cause Komori more or less ordered you to.

It was the third and final day you had to kill someone before all the bombs in the cavern went off. Days had passed and yet everyone was still alive and in one piece. Would that still last when the morning came? While some simply brushed off the bombs as being nothing more than fake some were feeling quite tense about the whole situation. Would anyone crack under the pressure, not willing to tempt fate itself to see if Komori’s motive was a bluff or not…? After tonight you were certainly going to find out.

As the day came to it’s end you all gradually went to bed one by one. Whether it be early or late, you pushed past any worries of waking up to explosions and eventually drifted off to sleep.  Or in some night owl’s cases you stayed up late in your tent. Either way the hours passed by in a flash, and when the morning finally came…

You woke up. Alive and not covered in a bunch of cave debris.

But more importantly you woke up to the sound of a distant scream echoing throughout the cave. As you all quickly collected your bearings and got dressed you checked your tablets. The day had indeed passed and it was early morning. The lights having only come on almost an hour ago. If you all survived to the next day then what was all the commotion about?

Soon you all gathered to the dining hall where the screams had originated from and saw Iyona and Toyo standing there, looking down at the ground intensely. As you got closer you soon realized what exactly was wrong…

Psalm rolls her eyes good naturedly as she waits for Ryoma’s brain to catch up to his stomach.

“You can sleep with bombs everywhere? And here I thought you’d run away crying from scary stuff. I guess you’re more the type to punch it instead. Hopefully we’re in the kind of horror movie where that’s considered a useful trait and not a batshit insane one, or you’re not gonna last too long, and that would suck because I kind of like you.”

Without further ado, she gestures at his tent with the arm that’s now free of the plates, and shakes her bangs out of her eyes. 

“Can I, um, come in, or…sorry, I don’t know ‘tent’ protocol. We can go somewhere else, but…”

Psalm scuffs the toe of her platform sneakers on the cave floor, looking suddenly more tired than she did before. Yes, that’s right. Platform sneakers. God forbid she allow herself to be under 5′4″.

“Iyona is…I don’t know where, actually. But I’m not going to ask her to help me serve people for fun. She has to do that enough for work!”

Ryoma gets a look like, well, obviously. 

Ryoma seems mood sours when the bombs are mentioned and his eyes flick upward where the explosives are noticed.  

“Guh… well I just needed a little time to think things over and… well everyone needs sleep so.”  

He vigorously shakes his head.  Why was he explaining himself, sleep was natural!  What was more of a crime was Psalm insisting that he’d be some crybaby type!  

“What gave you that kind of idea!?  Me!?  Crying!  You’re damn right I’m the type to fight for it!”  

He begins to throw punches into the air in quick succession, with one hand because he’s still carrying some things in the other.  

“If it comes down to it, I’m going to beat down that plushie bat until cotton comes out it’s eyes!  Or… eye?  One of them is a button isn’t it?  If I’m going to go down, I’m at least going to go down with a bang… or uh… poor choice of words.  On my own terms I mean.”

If this really is a horror movie than what are his odds?  “Usual the big heroic type gets sniped off early doesn’t he?  Or he turns out to be some big coward in the face of adversity…?”  He grumbles and tucks his head into his scarf looking a little sick.  

“Heh, well if I need to defy the expectation than you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m not going to go down anytime soon!”  

Might as well play into the trope, maybe he’d luck out and actually able to defy expectations.

“The tent is fine, Nona isn’t in right now and as long as we don’t make a big mess or we just cleanup afterwards it should be fine.  Honestly, you look like you need a nap more than I do anyway.”  

A small break in the tent might lift their spirits, or at least prepare their spirits for what lies beyond.  

“Just be careful not to trip in those platform sneakers.”  

Yes he noticed.

“Right… right… well you could always offer to do her a favor or something in return if you don’t want to deal with the debt.  Or maybe I’m just over thinking it.”

He shrugs and as he walks into the tent he carefully putting the food and drink onto his air mattress before sliding on top of his sleeping bag, of course leaving enough room for Psalm.

If Psalm looked close enough she’d see that there were was also a stack of paper and a few ink pens with what looked to be a few sketches of some sort.  Probably mecha or something of that like.

“Okay let’s dig in!  Can I take the napkins off!?  Oh and thanks for the meal!”  

“Did you say think...and sleep? How are you going to do both at the same time? Isn’t that dreaming? I prefer nightmares, but if that’s what you want. Anyways, I don’t need sleep. I’ve never slept a day in my life.”

That last sentence, at least, at this moment seems likely. All the concealer she owns couldn’t cover the bags under her eyes, though it’s making a valiant effort. Psalm steps closer to Ryoma, only to immediately backtrack when he startles her by defending his hot blooded attitude and suddenly punching the air. All of which she regards with an unimpressed look, before shaking her head and moving towards him again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna die. I’ll miss you. Try to get the bat to leave your head intact, I’ll carry it around like how sailor’s wives keep a lock of their hair.”

She sounds awfully lighthearted. Emphasis on ‘awfully’. She does, however, playfully tug on the edge of his scarf with her free hand, and smile up at him as if to try to communicate that there’s no real malice intended. Psalm sits down on his air mattress near him and sets her own food on the bed as well before turning back to him with a belated scowl. 

“Hey, not everyone can be a slenderman like you tall weirdos. I’m just trying to keep up. Do you know how hard it is to strike fear into the hearts of mankind when you can't reach the top shelves at the supermarket?”

She does look closely around her, inconspicuously. Then again, she looks closely at just about everything, Ryoma’s tent being no different. Not wanting to pry, though, she merely shrugs when he thanks her and gestures at the plates as if to say sure, go ahead. Underneath the napkins are sandwiches - specifically, sandwiches cut into squares and arranged into little robots, with scraps of cheese cut into arms. Still, though she was clearly trying to reach out to his interests instead of hers, it had a hint of her style coming through. She’d used red peppers to make the eyes, and made angry eyebrows out of olives, so they looked like evil terminator robots instead of Ryoma’s friendly mechas.

Well.

You know what the great thing is about having a roommate? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This is all Psalm’s opinion, of course, but in her opinion, her opinion on this is objective fact. Having a roommate on Murder: The Field Trip seemed like a recipe for disaster, and as the resident sous chef of discontent, she felt qualified to say that.

Needless to say, she has not been sleeping. And it shows, even though the bags under her eyes are obscured decently well by all of the makeup she wears, through how her energy seemed to lag more than it had at the beginning. She isn’t holding herself quite so properly, and her eyes are having trouble staying open. All of this, of course, culminates in the great idea of going for a brisk stroll around the lake. Nothing like stagnant cave water to really get the blood pumping. A lap or two later, she suddenly realizes she isn’t alone, and narrows her eyes at the strange figure now taking up space at the water’s edge.

“Hey, don’t I know you? Didn’t I give you a smoore?”

It’s not long before they sense a disturbance - a figure on the other side of the lake, pale and slim. La llorona, perhaps? As the figure circles the lake and gets closer, though, it becomes clear that that isn’t the case. While that would have been fairly exciting, at least this person is someone they recognize. The one from the campfire earlier, the one who had salvaged the s’mores after near disaster. 

Propping his knees up on the rock, Imoo stares back at her when she stops right near him. They’re not quite sure how to answer the question.

“…Maybe? You did. It was good.”

A pause, as they absentmindedly wrap a lock of their hair around their finger.

“Really?” She says, apparently not considering her own talent in her surprised delight that someone enjoyed her food. It shouldn’t exactly be a shock to her at this point, but hey, whatever makes her happy. “That’s great! I could totally make you a better one, though. I wish I had the resources I have on set. I’d totally blow your socks off.”

Pausing, she looks around, as if confused. 

“Uh...yeah, I guess so. What else is there to do around here? I’m not a musclehead so the cave maze isn’t any fun, and nobody’s gotten ripped to shreds in like, a day or two. There’s nothing going on down here.”

You know what the great thing is about having a roommate? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This is all Psalm’s opinion, of course, but in her opinion, her opinion on this is objective fact. Having a roommate on Murder: The Field Trip seemed like a recipe for disaster, and as the resident sous chef of discontent, she felt qualified to say that.

Needless to say, she has not been sleeping. And it shows, even though the bags under her eyes are obscured decently well by all of the makeup she wears, through how her energy seemed to lag more than it had at the beginning. She isn’t holding herself quite so properly, and her eyes are having trouble staying open. All of this, of course, culminates in the great idea of going for a brisk stroll around the lake. Nothing like stagnant cave water to really get the blood pumping. A lap or two later, she suddenly realizes she isn’t alone, and narrows her eyes at the strange figure now taking up space at the water’s edge.

“Hey, don’t I know you? Didn’t I give you a smoore?”

Bats were angry, bombs were placed, and some people were taking it better than others. 

Man, this field trip fucking sucked. 

Unfortunately, other than the impending explosions, there was little else of interest going on in this cave. Therefore, the aforementioned “some people” (Psalm) were taking it upon themselves to go annoy the hell out of “others” (pretty much everyone, but specifically Ryoma). It was for this reason, and certainly not because she liked and enjoyed his company and found him amusing, that the chef found herself at the entrance to his tent. It only just now occurred to her that maybe he’s not…uh, home.

“Knock knock, Blondie,” she called out in English, kicking the tent and making it sway precariously. “You’ve got company.”

Though he nearly fell out of his bed once he heard Psalm calling out to him in English, which took him a few seconds to parse out carefully what she said.  Though not much time, he is one of the few blondes here.

He raises his head up off his pillow and brushes his hands over his face to prepare himself.  

“Yo what’s-”  

Before he can respond the tent gets kicked again and he’s wondering if maybe the bombs are going off early.  Luckily it doesn’t seem so.

“I’m coming!  I’m coming!”  

He responds back rolling out of his bed and heading on outside to see Psalm in a different look.  Oh yeah, he should probably change into a new look himself one of these days.  

“Can’t a guy get a quick wink before getting called out?” 

He yawns as he rubs his eyes and gets a better look at Psalm.  She’s carrying two plates of something and some orange juice which makes his eyes light up.

“Ah… sweet!  Orange Juice!  Hold on did you carry all that by yourself from the kitchen?  You shoulda asked Iyona-chan for help with that.”  

“You can sleep with bombs everywhere? And here I thought you’d run away crying from scary stuff. I guess you’re more the type to punch it instead. Hopefully we’re in the kind of horror movie where that’s considered a useful trait and not a batshit insane one, or you’re not gonna last too long, and that would suck because I kind of like you.”

Without further ado, she gestures at his tent with the arm that’s now free of the plates, and shakes her bangs out of her eyes. 

“Can I, um, come in, or...sorry, I don’t know ‘tent’ protocol. We can go somewhere else, but...”

Psalm scuffs the toe of her platform sneakers on the cave floor, looking suddenly more tired than she did before. Yes, that’s right. Platform sneakers. God forbid she allow herself to be under 5′4″.

“Iyona is...I don’t know where, actually. But I’m not going to ask her to help me serve people for fun. She has to do that enough for work!”

Bats were angry, bombs were placed, and some people were taking it better than others. 

Man, this field trip fucking sucked. 

Unfortunately, other than the impending explosions, there was little else of interest going on in this cave. Therefore, the aforementioned “some people” (Psalm) were taking it upon themselves to go annoy the hell out of “others” (pretty much everyone, but specifically Ryoma). It was for this reason, and certainly not because she liked and enjoyed his company and found him amusing, that the chef found herself at the entrance to his tent. It only just now occurred to her that maybe he’s not…uh, home.

“Knock knock, Blondie,” she called out in English, kicking the tent and making it sway precariously. “You’ve got company.”

It had been a couple days since your ‘caretaker’ had made her presence known and explained the killing game to you all. As expected no one had actually killed each other. So when the morning came where Komori had sent a message out to you all asking for everyone to meet her by the lake you prepared for the worst

As you all exited your tents and gathered by the lake you saw Komori standing there. As she began to speak the bat’s usual peppy expression turns to one of frustration… Well, as frustrated as a toy bat the size of a toddler can look at any rate.

“Students… I’m vewy disappointed in you all… None of you have killed each other yet! Don’t you realize we have a game to play hewe?! I know you all must want to stay down hewe with your lovely caretaker Komori-chan so much but you’re making this hard on me as well! 

Komori lets out an exasperated huff.

“But it’s okay… Because I love you all vewy much I’ve decided I’d help you out some more with a little… Incentive.”

Reaching behind her Komori reaches into the bag she had brought with her. You can hear the rustling of various objects before Komori eventually pulls out a small handheld control device.

“And what’s a better way to motivate you all than with a bang~!”

With that she dramatically clicks the button with her squishy little wing. All of a sudden you can hear the faint sound of multiple devices ticking echoing throughout the cave. As you all look around you spot various metal and wire fixtures on the wall that weren’t there the night before. All of them have a small digital clock on them that seems to be counting down. Suddenly the realization of what Komori meant hits you like a truck.

Were those all bombs?!

“While you were all asleep I went ahead and put a bunch of these bombs all over the cavern walls. As you can already tell they’re all set on a timer that I just activated~! So if someone doesn’t kill within three days then the bombs will all explode, causing a cave in that will kill you all.”

Komori couldn’t be serious about this, could she? There’s no way she’d be willing you risk getting you all killed… Right?!

“I think the choice here is pretty clear, yes yes~? One widdle life must be snuffed out in order to save you all! I’m positive one of you will step up to the plate sooner than later.”

“And one more thing- Don’t you even think about trying to disarm the bombs!! They’re rigged to explode if anyone tries to tamper or move them… I’ve also put some of them in the labyrinth so you can’t hide out there either.”

She gives you all a sympathetic wave.

“Okay! That’s all everyone, you are dismissed. I hope to see some results within the coming days…!”

With that she squeakily waddles away, bag in tow. The bombs countdown continued to tick ominously in the background as you are left once more to your own devices. You had three days left before the bombs would go off. Hopefully Komori was bluffing, but if she wasn’t then…

Psalm had been waiting for this, you know.

That is to say, for the other shoe to drop. Sure, nobody wanted to be trapped down here. It was dark, and cold, and the food was worse than a Motel 8’s continental breakfast. That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? As much of a fan of death and chaos as Psalm was, she was realistic. And realistically, one could not expect to drop a bunch of teenagers in a cavern and think they’re going to follow weird vague instructions given by a slash-happy stuffed animal. Teenagers live to rebel against authority - that’s why adults are so often the antagonists of coming of age movies. No good slasher film worth its salt would just establish a scene by expecting characters to follow the rules. You need stimulus. You need incentive. You need motive.

Well, the chef thought, glancing around at the innocently flashing lights that now surrounded them, sounding out their doom with every cheerful little beep, everyone’s paying attention now.

It was really smart, honestly, which is why it was completely unsurprising. If somebody was going to go to the effort to kidnap Japan’s best and brightest, they weren’t going to be lazy enough to expect one little brutalization to be enough to get everybody to turn on each other. Real life wasn’t Lord of the Flies. If anything, it was just going to get everyone to turn on the bat. This, though?

Men go to far greater lengths to avoid what they fear than to obtain what they desire.

Disco Isn’t Dead | Psalm | Ch.1 (Risumaru)

It’s a beautiful day outside.

Birds are singing, flowers are blooming…

On days like these, kids like Psalm

…Should also be outside, but thanks to a deadly kidnapping stuffed animal, she is not only inside, but bored. Extremely bored. Extremely on edge, too, it would seem, since she’s sitting in the dining hall with her back to the wall, posture stiff even as she leans over to lay her head on the table. She’s got her eyes on the door, and if you didn’t know any better, might seem as if she were just relaxing and waiting for something to do.

Her thoughts were a blur, moving too quickly for her to keep up with. That girl hadn’t even done anything. If they were just going to kill her for not being in the class, why bother kidnapping her in the first place with the rest of them? So much for that supposed ‘good luck’ of hers…and if a person who was allegedly so lucky could die with so little warning like that, what was going to happen to Psalm?

She was starting to feel kind of dizzy and faint. It had been a little while since she ate with Iyona…maybe she should go find some orange juice or something. Jeez, but there was a ton of blood in the other room, and what a waste! It was probably all going to get cleaned up, too…maybe Komori would let her keep some, or redecorate by smearing it all over the walls or something. Liven the place up a little, you know? Psalm had just resolved to haul herself up and go on an OJ treasure hunt when in walks - oh. The person here whose fashion sense rivaled her own.

“Oi, hello,” she called out in English, straightening from where she’d been draped over the table. She tilted her head at him with a smile. “Well, aren’t you fit?”

Is she speaking in English specifically to mess with her classmate, or is she just legitimately too drained to translate herself? Time will tell!

It was a little hard to keep track of time when holed up in a cave. Fortunately, they’ve all been provided tablets (for some reason, but there was no point in questioning it) that was able to tell the time, but even then… Risumaru still felt sick to the stomach. Which was a problem, because he refuses to mess up his perfect streak of three meals a day. Well, maybe the nausea was hunger? If anything, he’ll just eat a cracker or something.

He breathed deeply in and out trying not to remember the earlier incident, his strut absent as he strolled into the dining hall, nodding towards Psalm to acknowledge her existence. And he would have left it at that, until the other greets him in another language. Interesting! He stops in his tracks, turning on his heel to face her with a grin.

“Oh, English, huh?” He responds fluently in the same language. “Yeah, gotta keep the body in shape, ‘else I’d lose my mojo. Ya feel?”

“Oh, hello! Hi! Hello!” Her eyes sparkled as she beamed up (and up, and up) at this incredibly colorful person, hands clasped under her chin. “I do feel! Wow, what a mojo you have. I keep in shape for my mojo, too!”

To punctuate this, she flexes, showing off literally nothing, in fact, she looks, if possible, more bony than the average person. Although...to be fair, that does seem to be her mojo, so to speak.

“What’s your name, Monarch of Disco? Did’ja come to eat? You have to fill your body with good food or else you’ll get old and die. Like, wither all the way away. And if you turn into a zombie after you die, you’ll have to eat waaaaay more brains than everyone else to catch up, which could take AGES.”

It’s a beautiful day outside.

Birds are singing, flowers are blooming…

On days like these, kids like Psalm

…Should also be outside, but thanks to a deadly kidnapping stuffed animal, she is not only inside, but bored. Extremely bored. Extremely on edge, too, it would seem, since she’s sitting in the dining hall with her back to the wall, posture stiff even as she leans over to lay her head on the table. She’s got her eyes on the door, and if you didn’t know any better, might seem as if she were just relaxing and waiting for something to do.

Her thoughts were a blur, moving too quickly for her to keep up with. That girl hadn’t even done anything. If they were just going to kill her for not being in the class, why bother kidnapping her in the first place with the rest of them? So much for that supposed ‘good luck’ of hers…and if a person who was allegedly so lucky could die with so little warning like that, what was going to happen to Psalm?

She was starting to feel kind of dizzy and faint. It had been a little while since she ate with Iyona…maybe she should go find some orange juice or something. Jeez, but there was a ton of blood in the other room, and what a waste! It was probably all going to get cleaned up, too…maybe Komori would let her keep some, or redecorate by smearing it all over the walls or something. Liven the place up a little, you know? Psalm had just resolved to haul herself up and go on an OJ treasure hunt when in walks - oh. The person here whose fashion sense rivaled her own.

“Oi, hello,” she called out in English, straightening from where she’d been draped over the table. She tilted her head at him with a smile. “Well, aren’t you fit?”

Psalm was waiting for this. She’d been waiting for hours, now, for this. For the other shoe to drop. Sure, she’d walked around, dutifully explored, done her part to socialize with the others, but there was no way this was going to end well for any of them, and she knew that. 

That didn’t make it any easier to bear.

The chef furrowed her eyebrows at the weird stuffed animal-looking thing when it appeared, and that crease in her forehead only deepened as it went on and on about the end of times and all. That sort of thing was her job, and she was getting dethroned by a little twerp with wings? Absolutely unacceptable. It was difficult to focus on that, as much as she tried to - (as much as she wanted, desperately, for that to be the biggest of her worries) - when they were being told they were trapped indefinitely. Psalm listened to everything the bat said with growing alarm, despite doing  her best to shove it down, down, down, somewhere it couldn’t hurt her, like the soles of her feet. And then it singled out Akane, and Psalm stiffened, because if what she thought was about to happen was happening-

It better not be, but it did.

Contrary to those who screamed, or cried, the pale girl in the midst of their group just stared. If you weren’t paying attention, you’d think she was utterly unfazed. She did look rather unbothered, after all, having not flinched or cried out or changed her expression in the slightest since smoothing it out from what was going to give her wrinkles before.

Somebody who was paying attention would see that her hands, half-balled into fists, were shaking ever so slightly, and that her gaze was staring somewhere far beyond Akane’s mutilated body. Somebody who was paying attention would notice the uneasiness of every breath she was taking, and the clench of her jaw, and the way she brought her hands up over her hair to cover her ears as if blocking out what had just happened.

Somebody who was paying attention would think she was, well,

scared.