ENDGAME GROUP 2: The Trial (Log 2)

[hasagun]

[After Remy and Thalia stumble upon Bill’s makeshift trial room, it doesn’t take very long for the others to appear within the trial room. There are podiums set up as per usual, but there’s...really nothing keeping you to using them. The whole place smells terribly of ketchup, and is completely gold, each wal covered in massive tapestries.

There’s also a closed door at the back of the room. Not the way you came in. Guess someone needs to get in and out.]

WELCOME, TO YOUR TRIAL, KIDDOS! I’M NOT SUPER ENTHUSED ‘BOUT THE WHOLE “BURNING DOWN MY GIFT SHOP” THING, BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE PARK ANYWAY! GOTTA HAVE SOME FUN BEFORE YOU DIE!

(ooc: this is the second and final log for group 2 - if you weren’t here for the previous log, feel free to use this as a jumping-in point!)

Comments

CW: BISECTION

[hasagun]

[Bill struggles, thrashes, but he goes into the portal as it begins exploding, on the verge of it's own demise. Ford is quick, and it...takes care of it.

The portal closes when they're half way through it.

Stan is left holding...remains. At least one of them. A pair of torsos, and two stubby little cartoon arms. They're cut...far too evenly.

#happy420.]

[terribibble]

[The torsos sure still are holding hands.

Fiddleford McGucket and Stanford Pines are dead.]

[sentree]

[ She knew none of them. Not well. Fiddleford only in passing. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. In the last few minutes, four of their number have died...and it doesn't look like they'll have a box to retrieve them from.

Thalia has no coins. But she goes to each of the four bodies and quietly prays. ]

May your passage be swift, comrades. May you find peace under a more gracious god. [ She grits her teeth. ] Your bravery will never be forgotten.

[fairlypushy]

[Amanda taps Thalia on the shoulder. She, ah. She has a handful of coins. They are . . . definitely stolen off of some park guest but. It's fine.]

Here.

[sentree]

...Thank you, Mandy. I'll... Thank you.

[ She hates doing this again. But...here we are. Coins in their mouths, payment for the ferry. ]

[stanbyme]

What- what are you doing to him?

[Sorry Thalia, you have to go through Ford's brother to get at Ford, and he's gonna pull Ford back before she can even touch his mouth.]

[sentree]

It's rites for the dead. [ Her voice is soft and gentle. ] It's a Greek custom, giving him...payment, for passage to the Underworld.

[stanbyme]

[Stan's breath shudders and his voice shakes with it.]

He's not- [he heaves a quick in-out breath, an attempt to try and stop crying.] He's not Greek.

[sentree]

I know...but we don't know if Hades will get his soul or not. [ She pauses, though. ] I won't do anything if you disapprove, though.

[stanbyme]

...He's not gone. He can't be, he's just--

[Stan pulls back and touches the face that's so practically identical to his own. So still and unmoving, eyes glassy and jaw hanging open.]

He's just waiting somewhere else for me.

[His face slowly crumples in despair, and he reaches for Ford's hand, now bloody from just being near the gushing wound of his entire lower body, pushes his fingers between Ford's and holds his hand against his lips. His voice is thin and on the verge of breaking.]

Wherever we go, we go together. He promised, he can't- he can't be gone. He wouldn't leave me like this.

[A sob escapes, and then another, his eyes squeezing shut as he presses his brother's cooling hand to his cheek.]

I didn't even do anything wrong this time.

[sentree]

[ She squeezes her eyes tightly shut and places her hands on this poor old man's shoulders. She wants to promise something. She can't. Clawing into the Underworld, it isn't actually done. Reviving the dead is a myth- more myth than the real myths, and this has taught her that more than anything.

But she wants to. Oh, she wants to. If miracles could be created... ]

I'm sorry, sir.

[stanbyme]

[He shakes her off.]

No! I got him back once, I can do it again. I don't- I don't care if I have to take his place...

I'm sick of losin' my brother!

[terribibble]

[There's something sticking out of Fiddleford's inner coat pocket. Must have been shaken loose by all that jostling.]

[sentree]

...

[ She hates this. Alright. What is it? ]

[terribibble]

[A note. Folded up. Surprisingly little blood on it, but then, it was out of the splash zone.

Want to read it?]

[sentree]

[ Like, no??? She really doesn't??? But fine, she will. ]

[terribibble]

[You unfold the Letter to Tate.]



[It wasn't quite done. He figured either way he'd have a little time to, you know, smooth it out, and then maybe he'd slip it under a door or through a mail slot one night and that would be as much closure as he'd get and it would be good enough in terms of closing the door on that time in his life.

Not a lot of people left who could even give the kid the letter in the first place, regardless of when along the timeline he got it. Funny how things work out like that.]

[sentree]

[ What would she have given to receive a letter like this. What would she have traded, to have looked for her mother and received this, instead of just a gravestone and an obituary. Something that said she mattered. Forget something from her father, the one actually still alive, who she's given up receiving any kind of affection from--

Thalia realizes with a start that a tear almost stains the letter, instead landing on her- shaking? why is it shaking, she doesn't even know him-

shaking hand. She pulls her face back, so she doesn't splash this letter to someone she doesn't even know, who she envies, and sucks in a deep, shuddering breath. She can't give this to Stan right now, to give to this man's son. Not when the man is grieving and in shock. But she folds the letter and closes Fiddleford's eyes with that shaking hand, and whispers a soft promise: ]

Your son will receive this letter. If I have to track him down myself, I will. I swear on the River Styx.

[fairlypushy]

I didn't think we would need them for this. I hope we don't need any more.

cw: gore

[stanbyme]

[Stan was pulling as hard as he could, trying to do something, anything, to save Ford this time.

And then the pressure suddenly releases, and he falls backward, Stanford's weight landing on top of his chest, and at first he laughs, winded.]

Did- did you really have to scare the crap out of me like that, Sixer?

[But there's no reply. And the brown eyes that match his own, that are looking at him, they're... they're glassy. Gone.

Stan's breath hitches, and he pushes himself up underneath half of the corpse of his twin brother, sees the gore and viscera hanging out of Ford's missing lower half, the blood staining his own clothes, the way that Ford, still holding onto Fiddleford's hand, slides messily off of his chest when he sits up.]

...Stanford?

[His voice is...tiny. Broken. He shakes Ford's shoulder, as if he'll wake up if he does that. He pulls what's left of his twin brother into his arms, cradling Ford's head against his shoulder, burying his face in Ford's collar.

Someone, somewhere, screams. He doesn't even recognize his own voice. Half of his own soul has been ripped away, just as violently as half of Ford's body.]

[lusito]

[....... Yikes, that's disgusting.]

So... I actually hate to be this person for once, but we should probably use this opportunity to get out of here and check that door before something else decides to happen today.

[Sorry for your loss and all that Stan, but Josh is ready to get the fuck out of here now as of all this.]

[stanbyme]

[If you were looking for a reply other than just a broken old man scream-sobbing and cradling half the corpse of his twin brother, you're outta luck.]

[lusito]

[nah it's fine he pretty much expected that so we're just gonna... walk away over to that door to see if it's locked or not]