WEEK 8

[grimgrinningghosts]

[Two months. Two months of being trapped in this mansion. Two months of heartbreak and despair. Two months of wondering if you are all going to die here.

You finally have a real ray of hope thanks to Mr. Walt, but even he claims that it will be a hard journey ahead. You all have to be strong, physically, emotionally, any kind of strength will work against what you're up against. Maybe take the next few days to rest before the long journey, or prepare for the dangers that await, the choice is yours, but...

Will you be able to escape?

8 guests remain]

[ SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY ]

{OOC: Don't forget to read and respond to our endgame details/check in!}

Comments

SUNDAY

[grimgrinningghosts]

MONDAY

[grimgrinningghosts]

TUESDAY

[grimgrinningghosts]

[No motive this week...?]

[toogoodforhim]

[It's hard for LeFou to wake up. To bring himself around in a world that's a little darker, a little colder without his partner in it. But he does, and for the first part of the morning he shuts himself in room 116, sorting through Maui's belongings.

He finds five pieces of paper torn from Maui's notebook, reads the one with his name on it and, alone in the room where they kept both of their belongings, to make room for both of their beds across the hall, he cries.

When he recovers he leaves the room, his eyes and nose red from crying, still drying the tears on his cheeks with his ruffled sleeves. He has the other four notes in his hand, unopened, and he slips them under Wendy, Elsa, Ford, and Namine's doors.

After that he rips a strip from one of their sheets - his sheets, now, but every time he corrects himself it drives a new, sharp knife into him - and fashions it into a harness and lead, slipping it around Heihei and carrying the chicken into the kitchen. He finds something that'll work for feed for his new stepchicken, but Heihei isn't interested in eating.]

...You miss him too, don't you, Heihei?

[The bantam cocks his head at him, and then pecks at the countertop. LeFou sighs and nudges his head over toward the feed, but more of the feed ends up scattering onto the floor than actually being eaten.

After he's relatively sure that his special needs stepchicken isn't going to starve to death, he puts Heihei back in their room (his room) and goes out to the foyer. Where he sees Maui's portrait smiling cockily at him from the wall and he just. Stops.

He stands up on his tiptoes to press his forehead against the painting of his partner's, closing his eyes and willing himself not to break down.

His hand brushes the button next to Maui's portrait, and he jumps clear out of his skin at the deep, rumbling laugh.

Okay, okay. I see what's happening here~

The look of shock on Lefou's face crumbles inward into the purest, concentrated despair.

You're face to face with greatness and it's strange. You don't even know how you feel- it's adorable! Well it's nice to see that humans never change...]

[chainbroke]

[ It takes a while for her to wake up. Friday had been such a long, difficult day, she wants to pretend it didn't happen. She wants to pretend that Maui--hero to all, her hero--isn't gone, wants to pretend that Fiddleford--he'd braided her hair, told her about his sisters, accepted her, too, despite what she'd told him--isn't gone. She wants to wake up and leave her room and talk to Maui, hear his booming laugh and...

She sees the note. She can hear his voice as he tells her she's not a mistake. Naminé's hands tighten on the note, to the point where it crinkles and it's in danger of ripping. ]

Oh, Maui... You tried to keep us safe.

[ Until the very end, he'd tried. Naminé reads it over, again and again, until she doesn't have to read it to know what it says.

And besides... now, the words are too blurry and smudge to read. Naminé lets herself cry for a while, and then she folds up the note and puts it in her pocket. She'll keep it with her forever, until they find their friends again.

Now, though. Now, she needs to find LeFou. It's not too difficult, and when she sees him, she clears her throat very softly. Her eyes are a little red, but for now, she's cried enough... she hopes. She's not the one who needs comfort now. ]

Papa?

[toogoodforhim]

[He's not crying but he's standing against the wall with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, a stricken look on his face. He's cried out everything he has in him, and now all he has is the numbness, is the sound of Maui's voice through the speaker and if he closes his eyes he can almost imagine that instead of rumbling through the wall it's a deep warm laugh rumbling out from that strong chest, threatening to unseat him from his perch.

He wants nothing more than to hear that laugh in person, be held in those strong arms again. He jumps off the wall startled when Namine calls out to him (it's overnight, the way that Papa was as easy to respond to as his name).]

Nene-!

[He can explain. It's fine, it's friendly.]

[chainbroke]

[ After speaking with LeFou, Naminé decides what they all need is food. She spends a while, then, in the kitchen (she tries not to think too hard about what happened) making breakfast. She's still learning, so it's not nearly as fancy as anything, say, LeFou could make... but gosh darnit, she is trying. There are pancakes with blueberries and sprinkles, toast with jam and butter, bacon, lots of scrambled eggs. There's juice, coffee, and tea.

Afterward, she puts all the food out in the lounge, and she spends a little time hanging around to make sure people have eaten.

In the afternoon, she's in and out of her room, just to get food. But aside from that, she spends quite a lot of time there.

Later at night, much later, she goes to the foyer again to put up the single sketch she's done. It's everyone, all together. For a while, she just looks at it. She doesn't think it's anywhere near the skill Ford has, but there's a lot of heart behind it. ]

[chainbroke]

[ In lieu of response, at least initially, she walks over and wraps her arms around him. Actions, often, speak much louder than words, and she's not even sure what to say right now. She just.... holds him. ]

I'm here. And it's alright... to not be okay.

[aboyandhiscar]

[Wow weird night amirite guys.

Mike actually sleeps in for once, rising a little later than usual. When he does, he beelines straight for the kitchen and then the casino. The clattering of glasses may clue people in that he's trying to dump all the moonshine and other alcohol. Whoops. Catch him in the act or help him out--at least the casino will probably magically restock itself.

Later in the afternoon, he's outside, just doing his usual thing of trying to get some excess energy out. This time he's practicing with his staff near some graves, knocking away emptied liquor bottles or stacked rocks. He's on edge more than ever now.

Finally, early in the evening, he's looking around for Stanford. Eventually, he'll just lightly knock at his door, hoping he's in there.]

[sixfingeredstan]

[Truth be told, Ford is tempted to spend the day locked up, mourning. He wants nothing more than to shut himself away for a little while and let himself grieve. Let himself process the previous day in his own good time. But he's only human, after all, and he didn't exactly eat anything yesterday, so eventually a mixture of hunger and his guilt over shutting out his remaining, ragged little family brings him out of his and Fiddleford's room. He's still got those melted, twisted wire-rimmed glasses tucked in his pocket, and he's clutching Fiddleford's notebook, too, as he makes his way into the lounge, following the smell of food.

He looks tired and haggard as hell, his eyes swollen from grief and lack of sleep, but he still has a ghost of a smile to spare for Naminé.]

Smells good, kiddo. Looks like you went with my pancake recipe.

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford's spent much of the day in his room, aside from a brief excursion out in the morning to feed himself. He's been reading over Fiddleford's journal for most of that time, his fingertips tracing each handwritten page almost like he's trying to reach the hand that made each mark. It hurts, reading things about himself that are less than flattering from the beginning of their time here, but seeing that tiny heart at the end bolsters him. He spends a long time just rereading those last few words, only stopping when he hears a knock at his door.

Ford clears his throat and sets the journal aside.]

...Come in.

[chainbroke]

[ It breaks the heart she's still not sure she has to see him in such a bad way. Then again, it's only natural, isn't it? She can't blame him one bit, and Naminé knows the others wouldn't, either. He lost his most important someone because of a fatal error, and Naminé cannot imagine how that feels. All she can do is be there for the people she loves, and hope it'll be enough.

She walks over to him and hugs him. ]

Thank you. I know they made me happy. So, I thought they might help some of the others too, even just a little bit.

[aboyandhiscar]

[Mike wanders through the lounge likely at the tail end of meal time, but even he has to stop and marvel at the spread. He didn't expect anyone to still be working so hard to cook anything--what with Maui gone and Ford grieving and all. When he spots Namine, he looks surprised.]

Woah. Did you make all this?

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford doesn't notice the slip of paper under his door until he gets up during the morning to find food; when he does, he bends and scoops it up, reading it with grief painting every line on his face all over again.

I can write this becauze of you. Thank you. Please protect Leefou when I can't.

It hurts. It hurts to know that he touched someone's life like that, and now he's just gone. They're all gone, and there's such a heavy burden on Ford's broad shoulders to carry now. To protect his remaining friends. To get the rest of them back, somehow. But he has hope, and they have an ally in Walt.

Eventually, he goes to find Lefou, holding up the slip of paper wordlessly when he finds him. He doesn't have to say much.]

kitchen

[defyingfrigidity]

[Elsa can hear the clinking of glasses as he's lugging a bunch of the bottles out of the casino, so before he can continue on to... wherever he's going, she stops him in the hall.]

Mike...? What are you doing?

[aboyandhiscar]

[Mike's wandering back inside through the Foyer when he spots Lefou, and the familiar voice ringing from the recording. He remembers listening to every song their first week here, and at the time, he didn't realize it was actually Maui singing. The big guy had a surprisingly good voice.

He quietly watches Lefou just...standing there, listening. He's still in mourning, Mike thinks, that's normal. But...dang. He shouldn't torture himself like that. Mike frowns to himself, wondering if he should say something, and then, finally, lets out a quick whistle to catch his attention.]

You know. . .I bet he'd like it if. Well, if you learned his song. Yeah?

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford's still in no position to turn down hugs; he needs this. He needs a physical reminder that he's not alone in this. That he still has people here who love him and care for him. So he goes ahead and bends down to lift Naminé right off the ground, giving her a gentle squeeze before he sets her back down. She's such a good kid. He'll never be able to replace her in his heart, that much he knows.]

That's very sweet. I'm sure everyone else will love them just like you did.

[With a heavy sigh, and a groaning from his knees that makes him feel very old indeed, Ford sinks down into a chair and serves himself up some pancakes, eggs, and bacon. He chews thoughtfully at a slice of bacon, before glancing over at Naminé with an apologetic look.]

I...you shouldn't have to see me like this. All broken up. I hope you won't hold it against me.

[aboyandhiscar]

[There's a beat of silence before Mike opens the door, poking his head in. He gives Ford a little salute, though it's lacking his usual enthusiasm.]

. . .yo! Uh, hey, Pops. You busy, or. . .?

[aboyandhiscar]

[Mike would throw her his usual salute but whoops, his arms are kind of full. He just sort of raises an elbow, making a bottle sway back in forth as if that perfectly conveyed "hello."]

. . .morning! Or, afternoon? I woke up late. S'no biggie, just doing a little extra cleaning!

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford's somehow not surprised to see Mike; he gives him a weak shadow of a smile and shakes his head, his hands gesturing a little uselessly.]

No, not busy. What...what can I do for you, Mike?

[chainbroke]

[ She squeezes him--not tight, but not particularly gentle, either. Enough to remind him that she's here. That he's not alone, and he won't ever be alone. She's sure he knows, but it's always good to help someone remember. ]

I hope so. I'll just be happy to see the others eat.

[ She pours him a cup of coffee, and herself a cup of vanilla tea, before settling in next to him. Then, she shakes her head. ]

No, never. I'd be much more worried if you were trying to pretend everything was alright, actually...

[ She rubs her thumbs against the ceramic of her cup and takes a sip. It warms her from the inside, but not as much as knowing she has a family. It gives her a new sort of strength, one that makes her think that she can be strong enough for the two who are hurting the most. ]

[chainbroke]

[ She brightens up a little when she sees Mike. He's always been the voice of reason, and he takes care of them, doesn't he? Like a big brother. So... after so much care, he deserves to be taken care of, too. Even if it's just breakfast. ]

I did. You can help yourself. [ A sheepish smile. ] I'm sorry. Some of the food isn't as warm anymore, but I hope it still tastes okay.

[sixfingeredstan]

We could all use it. God knows I didn't eat a thing yesterday.

[He'd been a little too busy to remember something so trivial, after all.

He takes the coffee, dumps some sugar into it, and takes a big, scalding drink of it. He doesn't seem to notice it burning his mouth; on the contrary, it's almost like a coping mechanism. Something to distract from his emotional pain.]

That's a relief. I was born in the days when men didn't really—they weren't supposed to show how they felt. And I suppose a lot of that I still carry with me.

[He heaves a heavy sigh, shoving a bite of pancake into his mouth.]

[aboyandhiscar]

[He enters fully, closing the door behind him, and rubs at the back of his neck. Then he pockets his hands, leaning against the wall.]

Nothing, actually, it's just--I never really checked on you after.....uh. Everything. Just thought it wouldn't make much sense to ask "are you okay?" right in the middle of the trial, you know?

[aboyandhiscar]

Heh, you kidding? Some of my favorite food is day old stuff that's been left out or fridged. Makes it taste even better! [which is to say, he's a teenager that just leaves shit out for days.]

It all still smells great too. Like something nostalgic, you know?