#flightless days

Mom won't die. But who did? Who did... back into the infirmary, with the strange, tall doctor.

And Azami, dead on a bed. Azami who was nothing but helpful. Azami who stopped you from crying. Azami who made you feel better after Jojo died. Azami who was always so very kind...

Is dead Charlotte. Dead and gone. Everyone you care about here is dying. Maybe you should just stop caring about them? Maybe then they won't die... Or maybe it'll hurt less?

Cat had been in a very nervous sleep.

A very, very nervous sleep - it was funny at all that she managed to fall asleep, however, the catgirl is woken up abruptly at 3 am by the sound of Monogooses' voice echoing softly in her ear. She sits up, scrambling for her bedside table where her glasses and cat ears lay. She barely has time to shove her glasses on before she makes her way out of the room, stumbling around in her tank top and pajama shorts, rubbing her face with her hands as she makes her way out of her suite and over to the infirmary.

On the way there, she also sets her ears up - students from the second floor dorms can see the strange set up of mechanical boxes and cords as she makes her way to the scene.

Once there, she stops, staring at Azami's body. Oh good - is her first, instinctive thought, and it makes her sick to her stomach again. Then, 'oh no' is her second.

"I-- I'm sorry."

(tw: brief suicide and gun mention, nothing big)

Darkness. Everything was in darkness.

There had been no light, just an illusion of it, ever since they arrived at this place. Why were they forced into this? For what purpose? Azami could do nothing. The situation was out of her control, she knew, but she still wished she could do something, anything, to prevent the tragedy she'd oh so hoped wouldn't come about.

Even in the darkness, where shadows consumed everything and nothing could be seen, Azami had still held on to that fantasy of light in her heart. But when the true lights came back on, and she saw the bloodied body of Ayaka Takano in front of her just a few short feet away, that illusion shattered and the dark shadows of the situation's reality consumed her.

She would always hold on to hope. Azami would never, ever give into despair. She simply couldn't. She had to be a beacon of light for the others, didn't she? She had to stay strong, so that they would depend on her, so that she could help. If they thought she was weak, she couldn't support them.

But the body had gotten to her more than she thought. This was outside the realm of any advice she could give. She'd stopped people from jumping to their deaths. She'd even stopped a boy who'd planned to hurt others. But when faced with murder, one that she couldn't prevent, that was already done and left death? She didn't know what to do, or what to say. How could she know?

She didn't do any investigating. She couldn't bring herself to. The smell, the look, the reality of a student's dead body was too much for her. But, she wouldn't cry. She refused to let herself. Stay strong, Azami, make them think you're brave. They probably think you're useless, right now, don't they? You didn't even try to help, to look around for clues.

Even in trial, she couldn't do anything. Even when addressed, when she could finally find her voice to say something the topic had already shifted. She couldn't bring herself to vote, or to stop the others from sending someone to their death. She could only stare blankly at her podium, doing her best not to cry, waiting for the time, for the terrible execution to pass.

S̵̠͙͙̹̣̕e͕̙͈̗͘͜ḽ̷̡̗̺͢f̣̹̺͘i̧͏͎̤s̨̛̟͓̣h̷͈̝̭̫͖,̹̰̯͇͓̤͘͠ ̸̻̱̳͍̤͟u͇͚͕͙͓̞ͅs̘̯̦̠e͕͙͈l͖̘̮̘̱͍̪̹͔͠è̯̹̳̫̭͙͔̣̰s̟̝̳͖͍̞̞̺̞͢ş̡̥̫,̲͈̙̭̫͞ ̸̜͔̝͎w̥̪͇̱͔̘̺͘ȩ͉́a̻̦͓̼̩̠͟ͅk̷̷͓̙̺

t̵̖̩̳̀͠h̡̺̣̗̘̭̪̞͓̤͜a̢̧̮̻̭̗͈t̨̢͏̪̯̰̝'̨͔̟͙͈͇͍̕s͏̮͈̱̟̗̗̯̺ ̞̮̭̤̘̕͞a̦̻̹̪̬̞͞ͅͅḽ̵͍̫l͏̮̤̻͠ ͏̶͇̠̩͈͖̜y̨̧͎̼o̶̖͓̮͘͠u͓͉̙̩̰͉̙͚̕͝ ̵̲͎̱̝̀ͅą̪̮̞̘̗̞̜͟ͅr̶̞̳̕̕ę͏̸̦̝̣̫̙ͅ,̨̠̘̲͇̕͜ ̜̜̱͢͝á̴̺̩̯̰̞r̝̜̭̟̖̠̞̤e̢̨̟̦̞̰̘͞n͚̼̰͘͠'̸̦̱t̨̡̺̞́ͅ ̤̥y̶͉̟̲̲̭̬̼o̗̖͍̻̱̫̩̱͝u̙͓͓̹͎?̮̻̝̥̟̟̘͞

She shook her head, trying to clear them of all those awful thoughts she was having. She needed to stay positive, right? Don't cry. Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. Hold it all in, let it build up inside of you, and release it gently, kindly. Yes, that's what she'd do, what she always did. She needed to be a beacon of light to everyone.

She gathered all the positivity, all the light inside her, forced herself to stand up straight and put a serious expression on her face. Even if her eyes were sad, she looked determined, serious, yet somehow still warm.

"I know a situation like this can be traumatizing and painful... I apologize for not doing better to help. Please, if anyone feels they need to, come and talk to me. The least I can give is a shoulder to cry on and an open ear."