(Untitled)

[clownfeethero]

[ ok, someone's in the middle of a big hall, standing on a chair ] Hey...

Hey everyone!

Unless someone else voted for John, I'm sure I'm the last traitor. My name's Sora. S-o-r-a.

So... everyone can go home now! Well, almost.

And I've got... a favor to ask of anyone who lives by an ocean.

[ ooc: tags might be slow, sorry! ;;; ]

[ eta: favor

Comments

[dull_blue]

[Norge took out his booklet and wrote in the name. Thankfully, he hadn't written 'No vote' yet.]

I go to the beaches regularly in my country. What is the favour?

[clownfeethero]

[ takes out a bottle with a bunch of paper rolled up and stuffed inside ]

Could you drop this off into the ocean?

[dull_blue]

[He took the bottle and eyed it.]

Would you expect it to get anywhere? I assume we're from different worlds.

[clownfeethero]

Maybe not, but it's never really been a problem before.

[bitchy_duelist]

Hey.
Are you really sure that there is noone else here, who voted for the Lt. Colonel?

[clownfeethero]

Why would anyone else vote for him?

[bitchy_duelist]

Not everyone is as nice as you are.
Maybe another person, who thinks they are the traitor, tries to win this game by killing all the innocents and Shappard was in their way.

[clownfeethero]

Oh... but wouldn't winning mean... killing everyone?

[paintitgray]

[Reki was in her room, bleaching her feathers. The tainted spots have been coming back faster, lately...]

[She was in her room, and then she hears Sora's shouting, muffled but understandable through the walls. The bowl of dye smashes on the floor, carelessly swept off as Reki lunges to her feet and runs.] Sora!

[She bursts into the room, dark eyes wide and dark hair flying everywhere, reddish dye dripping from the ends of her sodden feathers. Her mouth works for a second before she can speak.] What are you doing?

1/2

[clownfeethero]

I'm making sure everyone goes home this week--

[clownfeethero]

What's wrong with your wings?

[paintitgray]

I-- [She falters, and glances over her shoulder. Her feathers are a mess of gray and black, soaked in red. Droplets of dye patter to the floor, quietly.]

Nothing.

[thankyoumario]

Oh, but I--I couldn't vote for you! [Peach has clasped her hands to her breast in shock. He's such a nice boy!]

[clownfeethero]

Well, I think we'll manage.

[thankyoumario]

[Oh, dear, oh, dear. Peach plucks at her skirts for a moment, helplessly.]

...is there anything I can do?