[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Qt9DFLQ.gif[/img][/center] [indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent] Daimyon's tormented mind was not in the least eased by his entrance to the break room. Cyrus revealed the extent of their predicament: Krista had been captured by one of the Carnage Sisters and was being held hostage in the morgue of all places. Monokuma seemed to want to help the group of Infinites, but after what that bear allowed to go down, the poet held nothing but contempt for him. [i]Contempt...[/i] It was a strange feeling, to be engulfed by such a swirl of negative emotions. Daimyon was not used to it and wanted it to stop. He wanted to make himself useful again for the people he cherished, but his revelations seemed to have taken away his capacity for positive thought for now. So, he looked for a silver lining to cling onto as he was wont to do. [i]Writing.[/i] That was it. He would write something and get out of this rut. He strode past the Infinites who were arguing about the best way to proceed and found himself a corner of the room to tune everything out and access his imagination. He opened up his notebook—quickly scrolling past the letter nestled in between the first pages—and got out his pen. [center][color=seagreen] The free bird flies first Singing sing-song tunes Trilling of thrilling fortunes ...ah, it's just the worst! It's free while I dive headfirst Into the wall, mad and cursed With choking chains, my outburst Finding nothing but silence! Think, Daimyon, think Of images Of bandages To your messed-up head [/color][/center] At this point, the room around the poet reorganised into a debate hall, dividing the people into two teams to duke it out with reasoning or else. He cared little, remaining leaned against the wall, paper and pen in hand and his attention fully on his words. [center][color=seagreen] People around me are split Tensions rise, fires are lit In their eyes as they grit Their teeth and commit To win it or lose it I admit I have no desire to be part of this I wasn't the one who started this To their scythes we are crop As our numbers drop This has to stop! The machines are part of the system If they lied in smouldering ruins No one would miss them The boulder that smothers them That's what we have to be Our jailers are who we must condemn They will see—we'll be free! [/color][/center] He snapped the notebook shut in the next moment, a new determination rising up within him. He could see the debate was slowly dwindling down. Though he was unsure who stood on which side, he made up his mind: he would follow those who take action.