The month- god it's not even half through the month- has not been going well.
Maybe people would argue that. It's doubtful however, with people going missing every few days and the Metaverse flaring up in reply just as quickly. Attacks are happening. The 'Black Order' is responsible, whoever it is they sent to do it. Part of her wants to be suspicious of something, anything she's already encountered but she throws it off with the thought that it's just a response to the trauma around her.
And then the third victim makes his post.
Yasuho isn't even sure why she watches these. She knows she won't be getting any farther up the tower at this point, not until the dungeon is clear- and she knows, for that matter, that trying to help with a dungeon when she doesn't know the victims at all let alone well, is a recipe for disaster.
It's the double edged blade of the set up. Know the victim well enough to accurately navigate their halls and hells, know them well enough to suffer in turn.
The post goes up, and Yasuho decides that's a good time to go over her combat bag- Shio's gifted laptop bag is for her, for her books and computer and things that she properly enjoys. This tiny thing is where the korok pockets activate however, and the only thing sitting in there is a shield, her chalk, and some snacks.
Maybe she'll pick up another bowl of noodles from Shio this evening before the hour starts. Or something from Lucy at the door of the tower, that was always helpful. Making progress through Tartarus has somehow helped curb the worst of how she feels this month, something she's almost certain relates to the dark, shadowy tinge of the sky, but it's still hard to skip through the teleporter and tell herself she's doing well.
Bag in hand as she glances back to the ARCUS to see if any updates have come up, she abruptly freezes. It's not because of anything on the post- no, all there is there is speculation and of course that's all. The Midnight Hour hasn't struck again, the dungeon hasn't dropped, and the next block of Tartarus remains, undoubtedly, locked.
But those suspicions she was holding at bay come flooding back, and Yasuho's body feels like ice.
The Black Order is Clearly Responsible.
Fact. Of course it is. They announced it. They-
You know the voice from the earlier posts.
She knew it but didn't realize. She knew it, and now she does.
Killers and criminals with a need for attention will often insert themselves in the investigation to lure people astray, and as a form of power.
There were plenty of things wrong with criminal psychology in some cases, but in this case it wasn't. It just 'made sense' for that matter, control the investigation, control the....
....crime.
Ashiya Douman claimed to know Ritsuka immediately.
Yasuho doesn't put the bag down, instead throwing the strap over her shoulder and rushing out the door. She doesn't close the phone over instead hurriedly thumbing contacts and hitting dial, heart pounding louder and louder with every dull tone of the unanswered call.
Dial, no answer. Dial, no answer. Dial-
Pick up. Pick up, just pick up, please just pick up, she thinks, and Yasuho curses herself for not thinking to grab her boots or call someone else or-
You don't know that they'd actually be able to help, a sinister thought tells her, and as delicate hooves clack rapidly against the sidewalk she half wishes she inherited the same problem Ritsuka has. Maybe it'd all go faster as...whatever the hell she's been turning into, that has hooves and antlers and a tail like this. She doesn't know. It has to be faster though, she can't even guess how long she's been running, winded and laboring as her breathing already is.
Thank god for the Faeries, she can't help but think, still running as she makes it to the apartment grounds. That stupid marathon really put her through her paces.
Ritsuka, she doesn't shout, her voice caught in her throat. All that escapes it is a strange, gargled choke, too out of breath and too numb and shaking for more. Ritsuka, Ritsuka, RI-
Yasuho stops so quickly she nearly falls over, hand frozen where it was going to go for the door. It's so strange how it swung- almost closed, no doubt because of any air pressure between the hall and apartment, rather than any need to hide. It sits so innocently there, like there isn't even anything to cover up.
Hard to ignore the great hole where the door knob is though.
"R...ri..."
Her voice is hoarse. Her hand shakes as she feels out the air with Paisley Park, a single person and two animals pinging to her attention. People are alive in there, she thinks. The animals are fine, but what if it's not Ritsuka, but the attacker then?
Yasuho draws her sword.
She taps the door as it gives a long, agonized creak, light spilling through from where it had barely gleamed between shards of wood. The light isn't what catches her eye however. No, the light only illuminates everything else, and for a minute she's genuinely frozen.
Three presences.
Two animals.
One 'human'.
All immobile.
Three presences, she thinks as she takes a quiet step in, already smelling the sharp tang of coppery blood.
Two animals, she reminds herself, the sound of whimpering slowly becoming a growl from around the corner.
One...
"MMNHNH-"
Don't drop the sword, she tells herself. Don't drop it don't drop it don't drop it don't drop-
no subject
Maybe people would argue that. It's doubtful however, with people going missing every few days and the Metaverse flaring up in reply just as quickly. Attacks are happening. The 'Black Order' is responsible, whoever it is they sent to do it. Part of her wants to be suspicious of something, anything she's already encountered but she throws it off with the thought that it's just a response to the trauma around her.
And then the third victim makes his post.
Yasuho isn't even sure why she watches these. She knows she won't be getting any farther up the tower at this point, not until the dungeon is clear- and she knows, for that matter, that trying to help with a dungeon when she doesn't know the victims at all let alone well, is a recipe for disaster.
It's the double edged blade of the set up. Know the victim well enough to accurately navigate their halls and hells, know them well enough to suffer in turn.
The post goes up, and Yasuho decides that's a good time to go over her combat bag- Shio's gifted laptop bag is for her, for her books and computer and things that she properly enjoys. This tiny thing is where the korok pockets activate however, and the only thing sitting in there is a shield, her chalk, and some snacks.
Maybe she'll pick up another bowl of noodles from Shio this evening before the hour starts. Or something from Lucy at the door of the tower, that was always helpful. Making progress through Tartarus has somehow helped curb the worst of how she feels this month, something she's almost certain relates to the dark, shadowy tinge of the sky, but it's still hard to skip through the teleporter and tell herself she's doing well.
Bag in hand as she glances back to the ARCUS to see if any updates have come up, she abruptly freezes. It's not because of anything on the post- no, all there is there is speculation and of course that's all. The Midnight Hour hasn't struck again, the dungeon hasn't dropped, and the next block of Tartarus remains, undoubtedly, locked.
But those suspicions she was holding at bay come flooding back, and Yasuho's body feels like ice.
The Black Order is Clearly Responsible.
Fact. Of course it is. They announced it. They-
You know the voice from the earlier posts.
She knew it but didn't realize. She knew it, and now she does.
Killers and criminals with a need for attention will often insert themselves in the investigation to lure people astray, and as a form of power.
There were plenty of things wrong with criminal psychology in some cases, but in this case it wasn't. It just 'made sense' for that matter, control the investigation, control the....
....crime.
Ashiya Douman claimed to know Ritsuka immediately.
Yasuho doesn't put the bag down, instead throwing the strap over her shoulder and rushing out the door. She doesn't close the phone over instead hurriedly thumbing contacts and hitting dial, heart pounding louder and louder with every dull tone of the unanswered call.
Dial, no answer. Dial, no answer. Dial-
Pick up. Pick up, just pick up, please just pick up, she thinks, and Yasuho curses herself for not thinking to grab her boots or call someone else or-
You don't know that they'd actually be able to help, a sinister thought tells her, and as delicate hooves clack rapidly against the sidewalk she half wishes she inherited the same problem Ritsuka has. Maybe it'd all go faster as...whatever the hell she's been turning into, that has hooves and antlers and a tail like this. She doesn't know. It has to be faster though, she can't even guess how long she's been running, winded and laboring as her breathing already is.
Thank god for the Faeries, she can't help but think, still running as she makes it to the apartment grounds. That stupid marathon really put her through her paces.
Ritsuka, she doesn't shout, her voice caught in her throat. All that escapes it is a strange, gargled choke, too out of breath and too numb and shaking for more. Ritsuka, Ritsuka, RI-
Yasuho stops so quickly she nearly falls over, hand frozen where it was going to go for the door. It's so strange how it swung- almost closed, no doubt because of any air pressure between the hall and apartment, rather than any need to hide. It sits so innocently there, like there isn't even anything to cover up.
Hard to ignore the great hole where the door knob is though.
"R...ri..."
Her voice is hoarse. Her hand shakes as she feels out the air with Paisley Park, a single person and two animals pinging to her attention. People are alive in there, she thinks. The animals are fine, but what if it's not Ritsuka, but the attacker then?
Yasuho draws her sword.
She taps the door as it gives a long, agonized creak, light spilling through from where it had barely gleamed between shards of wood. The light isn't what catches her eye however. No, the light only illuminates everything else, and for a minute she's genuinely frozen.
Three presences.
Two animals.
One 'human'.
All immobile.
Three presences, she thinks as she takes a quiet step in, already smelling the sharp tang of coppery blood.
Two animals, she reminds herself, the sound of whimpering slowly becoming a growl from around the corner.
One...
"MMNHNH-"
Don't drop the sword, she tells herself. Don't drop it don't drop it don't drop it don't drop-
(WHERE IS THE HUMAN PRESENCE)