Temporary — Roleplayer Guild

Shaun Ellen

~ Dissolution ~

While it was a key part of the whole event, Shaun didn't appear concerned about the Theatre Therapy - nor the implications that it imposed. No, not implications; it said them right out loud. They were to commit the perfect murder and get away with it - causing the others that were participating to die so that the perpetrator could leave. It was a simple enough concept. 

To the boy, it seemed quite the experiment. Perhaps he was wrong with his first analysis? Maybe it wasn't a single person who enacted this, but the entirety of the Infinite Initiative? To be fair, he wasn't sure of most of the details surrounding the group, and their reason for existing was about as ambiguous as they could make it. To help people reach beyond their talents was quite... Vague, to say the least, and who knew in what ways they would attempt to develop them. Even going so far as to dump them into an environment where only the most cunning, and most capable of murder will improve?

He flicked through the E-handbook, memorising each rule down to the letter. It appeared that they wished for people to take advantage of the "Night of Carnage", however there was nothing against killing outside of those times. As much as it was against his will, Shaun found himself running through a variety of ways to kill, whilst making it seem like complete... "Carnage", as Monokuma might put it.

With the theatre ended, they made their way back to their rooms in silence. It may not have been obvious, but it appeared that their host had already managed to sow the seeds of despair into the participants. Well, some, at the very least; it didn't really affect Shaun. Not on the outside, at the very least.

Inside, he was scared. He may have been pretty tall, but he was quiet and he was weak - a pretty perfect target, especially considering he opted to stay away from people if possible. Who knew how many people would wish to take a crack with a steel bat at him? As he opened his room, Shaun noted how... Normal, it looked. In fact, it almost looked like a simple hospital room. He'd guessed that they wouldn't allow him a computer, simply because of the risks to the safety of the project that was at hand, but he at least expected something besides a book on a bedside table labelled "Advanced HTML". He already knew how to code; how else would he have gotten his label as an Infinite?

Next to it sat a DVD case with the name bearing "Trinity of Laughs". Its titled imposed quite the predicament, as Shaun looked over it and noted nothing especially funny about it. It was about models, not that he remembered which of the players liked modelling. One of the girls, evidently. He'd have to make find that out.

He looked around for a bit to see if there was a case or anything that contained personal belongings, but there weren't. That was right... he didn't come to Axis Mundi voluntarily, but was taken their unconscious. Was anyone else here the same? Most likely. There must have been some that were in the same boat as he, but they probably had better items than a crappy TV sitcom. 

Shaun sighed, and climbed into bed. There wasn't much point thinking about it, anyway.

Through the night, the boy slept soundly - somehow. Much to his surprise, he never once stirred. Or, if he did, he couldn't remember. The fear that came with the prospect of being killed should have caused some kind of unrest, yet it did not. It seemed strange, but he refused to dwell on it. 

Outside, he could hear the shouting of Davis, the Infinite... Conquest, that was it. Something about swords and ending battles quickly, not that it concerned him. A slight part of Shaun hoped someone might actually snap soon, so the place would be livened up beyond Davis's infinite hilarity matched only by that of the bandaged girls tape recorder 50% at your local ToysRUs.

Climbing out from the bed, he felt an overwhelming urge not the leave the room lest he be dragged into the infuriating nonsense of the other participants of killer charm. Killer? The place was already getting to him to the point of making insensitive puns in his head. To distract himself, he took the book from the cabinet - a rather hefty book - and began to read his way through; making it a personal mission to block out the sounds from everyone outside of his immediate vicinity.

Smother, bruise, crush, distort,
Sail away from thine lonely port.
Laugh, retort, smile, belittle,
Feel warm blood in its slight trickle.

To feel a Deity's burning eyes,
So afraid yet so alive,
Insecure and trapped towers,
Border city walls of stone,
Secluded inland, spread plagues and fear,
Burgeoning on Civil War.
Collapse around false hopes and dreams,
Safety it seems, in such fantasies.

Hold close thine thoughts of peace,
For there is where sanctity blossoms.
Break shackles of steel containment,
Find the words the army sent,
In there, sealed with wax, be our death warrants,
And so with it comes the death of hope.

Soldier on,
Warrior to many, failure of one.
Raise thine weapon up high,
In your victory cry,
For you doth succeed,
In spreading the seeds,
Of fear and fungal infectivity;
To climb so high, yet fall and die,
But never once leaving thine ungodly sky,
Where they sit on thrones of bone.

Watching the start of their cataclysm.

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