Entry tags:
[Game 21] Group 2
After the blackout, a dim glow returns to the train car. You can feel yourselves still rattling along the tracks, and the world seems to be rushing by outside in bits and flashes, an occasional pulse of color. Some of that ambience starts to fill the train compartment with a sickly blue light.
Rattle, rattle. Rattle, rattle.
Most of you feel . . . fine, physically unhurt, just maybe a little hungover from what just hit you, like waking up with a headache and a dry mouth. You do have the memory of pain, of how that unpleasant, searing sensation pulsed through you; but it's just a shadow now.
For those that are spiritually or magically sensitive, something is definitely wrong. Your senses feel a little dulled and constricted, like a weight is pressing down on you.
There are two exits to your compartment: one moving up the train towards First Class and the conductor, the other leading back, where you know there's at least one more passenger car behind you.
On each door, there is a glowing sigil of a watchful eye, an unwavering and unpleasant blue.
Rattle, rattle. Rattle, rattle.
Most of you feel . . . fine, physically unhurt, just maybe a little hungover from what just hit you, like waking up with a headache and a dry mouth. You do have the memory of pain, of how that unpleasant, searing sensation pulsed through you; but it's just a shadow now.
For those that are spiritually or magically sensitive, something is definitely wrong. Your senses feel a little dulled and constricted, like a weight is pressing down on you.
There are two exits to your compartment: one moving up the train towards First Class and the conductor, the other leading back, where you know there's at least one more passenger car behind you.
On each door, there is a glowing sigil of a watchful eye, an unwavering and unpleasant blue.
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Those instructions are very broad.
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Probably not how many chocolate bars I eat in a week, though.
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[nothing... happens]
Maybe... weight also means it has to be something that's... heavy enough?
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I was hoping it'd be simpler than that, but you're probably right.
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I was... an accomplice in at least two murders. And I feel bad about that, but I also... feel guilty about not feeling worse about it.
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I killed my brother, and I hate that I did it, but I also resent that I don't feel like I had any other choice. Am I just justifying it?
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Just when it feels like it's reached a breaking point, it abruptly coalesces into a sharp point of white-hot rage, and a glowing blue marble forms from the scale markings, hitting the ground so hard that it dents the metal underfoot. It lies there, glowing faintly, as the handprints fade, and you're released.
It really didn't feel cathartic at all.
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just.
going to take a moment here.]
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Well. That looks heavy.
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[after taking a few deep breaths, he crouches down and tries to pick the marble up.]
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Where to?
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[turns to look at the back door; the iris on that sigil has turned red]
This one might go backward.
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