IC INBOX

[gothicgambit]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, CELESTIA LUDENBERG. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 888.06.111.44 *** VersaillesWitch has joined 888.06.111.44 <VersaillesWitch> Say what you will, but do say it quickly. (alt anon account) <whiterabbit>

Comments

<Player1> 5/23, very early morning, after parasite event

[knifemonopoly]

thank you for taking it out
sorry i hurt you

<sodapop>

[creamsouda]

hey

when do u want that kotatsu

[gothicgambit]

[Celeste has been run absolutely ragged between getting turned into a fucking demon, being hired at a new job, and having to deal with several neighbors being infested with parasites. So this new message sits in her inbox for a few days before she gets around to it.]

Oh! Perhaps in the mid-afternoon? I usually clock in at the casino in the evenings. So any time before 4pm.

[creamsouda]

cool, you got it. it's the apartments w komaeda right?

[they're close enough to the arcade that Souda won't have to call someone else to deliver, either.]

< VersaillesWitch >

[gothicgambit]

Yes, I live in 807 with Komaeda-san, on the eighth floor


[... has anyone actually told Souda that they share an apartment yet?]

< sodapop >

[creamsouda]

oh

[how does she handle that....]

Ill get him to help bring it up then

< VersaillesWitch >

[gothicgambit]

Had he not told you about our arrangement? How strange.

Well, then I suppose I should inform you that Ikusaba-san lives with us as well. Komaeda may not be home, but she certainly will be.

<sodapop>

[creamsouda]

i dont usually ask for updates tbh

cool tho. was wondering where she ended up
i appreciate the heads up

[god he would prefer not being skewered by her— wait... too soon?]

< VersaillesWitch >

[gothicgambit]

True... Komaeda-san can be extremely difficult about answering simple questions.

Luckily I'm sure Ikusaba-san will not mind helping you with the heavy lifting!

[because Celeste sure as shit isn't helping him.]

<Player1>, dated to shortly after Midsummer Night's Dream event

[knifemonopoly]

[He hasn't seen Celeste around. He knows there was a fight, he knows horrible things were uncovered between the people who live in Apartment 807, and he knows Celeste missed a shift. He'd gone to look for her specifically, to see if she was there...the fact that she wasn't cemented his concerns and made up his mind to act.

What he wants out of this is to lure her in, get a read on how she is, whether she's okay. But Celeste is proud! So, his opening gambit is...]

It's been pretty quiet since the trees died. We probably won't have any more trouble until the next fog...so, want to play that game?

I'll make it worth your while.

< VersaillesWitch> [PRIVATE]

[gothicgambit]

[This is obviously a trap.

Celeste isn't fucking stupid, she made a gigantic, vulnerable, idiot of herself and then essentially fled into the night. The fact that she'd missed a shift yesterday would only make things worse, she knew. But she couldn't... She didn't want to face people's questions right now.

So the notification of Atem's message hadn't been surprising. The contents only momentarily so before she saw it for what it was: an attempt to bait her and make her look even weaker than she already felt.]

In case you haven't noticed, Atem-dear. I play poker for a living. How exactly would you make it interesting?

[Maybe she is fucking stupid.]

<Player1>

[knifemonopoly]

You mean seeing which of us is better isn't interesting enough?

I'm joking, of course...I wouldn't offer to play if I weren't willing to ante up something I thought you'd be interested in. You've never played for supernatural stakes before, have you? Play me, and win...and I'll give you my soul!

< VersaillesWitch >

[gothicgambit]

[The time before he receives a response is shockingly short.]

Very well, you have my attention.

[And in a quick, follow up message-]

Not that it's terribly likely, but what exactly would you get should I lose? Just so the terms are totally clear.

<Player1>

[knifemonopoly]

Your blood, of course. Since I presume there's only one use you'd have for my soul, that's fair, don't you think?

[Not entirely. If he loses, he'll certainly die, while he has no intention of taking enough blood from Celeste to kill her...but that's how Atem is used to getting people to play: luring them into a situation where they're sure they can't lose, putting himself at an initial disadvantage only to snatch a victory at the last second.

But he's sure he'll win, and the point is to open communication anyway...he's willing to stake one of his free lives on it.]

< VersaillesWitch >

[gothicgambit]

[It almost seems an equivalent exchange... but-]

One condition.

[Again, there is a pause. Because Celeste has been observing you too Atem, and she knows exactly what he's implying yet won't say.]

If I lose, the wager is death. Obviously I cannot take your soul without killing you, I will not have unequal agreement. It's embarrassing.

<Player1>

[knifemonopoly]

[Ah, so she doesn't just play for greed. She plays for pride. She doesn't want a sure, safe game -- and he respects that.]

Very well. We'll play to the death.

[He doesn't want to kill her, and doesn't plan to, but if a promise like that is what it takes to get her to play, he'll make it. He'll jump, and figure out the rest on the way down.]

< VersaillesWitch >

[gothicgambit]

Done. Where are we playing? We can't do this in the casino.

[One: because she doesn't want people to think she's back at work and two: she's not sure how certain coworkers will react.]

<Player1>

[knifemonopoly]

How about Ragnarok? It's neutral ground for me, and they've got rooms they rent out for things like this...

[By which he means "parties" and "feeding."]

So, unless you're personal friends with the owner, I can make arrangements.

< VersaillesWitch >

[gothicgambit]

I am not familiar with the owner, but it sounds suitable. Message me the details and I will be there

[And with that she closes her laptop for now.. Now she just has to get away without Five noticing.]

<Player1> -> action

[knifemonopoly]

[She'll get a message a little while later, after Atem's reached out to the venue's owners:]

Sublevel 2, 10:30pm, we've got one of the guest rooms.

[--and that's all they need, don't they?

He'll be there early, not long after sundown. If she's not there already, he'll case the room they've been lent for anything that might cause an unfair advantage. He didn't tell her which room it was on purpose -- she can move during the day, but he can't -- but he'll let the staff at the door to know to look for her and direct her to where she's going.

He'll be seated at the table in the windowless, tastefully-decorated-but-easily-cleanable room; he's brought cards and chips for keeping score, which are out on the table to be inspected. They're clean; if you think he's the kind of person who marks cards, then I don't know what to tell you. He folds his arms, lets the seconds tick by, and waits.

...he also might be dressed a touch sharper than usual. Nothing much fancier than what he usually runs around in, nothing that'll draw attention, except to give a general impression of being put-together; this is an occasion, so none of the articles look old or worn, no wrinkles or bends in the collar.]

perma-action

[gothicgambit]

[The invitation is received, preparations made, and staff are extremely helpful when she arrives closer to evening. She'd had to wait until Five had left for the night's shift before sneaking out, god that thought alone was embarrassing but she can't make herself tell him about this.

She knocks out of obligatory politeness, but doesn't wait for Atem to answer before opening the door.

Celeste, for her part, is dressed in the same clothes she wears to work. Nice enough for her normal wear, a black skirt with fine gold stitching, crisp white shirt, and staple black collar necklace. Neat, also steamed and pressed, but it's just a touch simpler than her normal taste. It's also the last clothes she left the apartment in, and she hasn't been back. The first sign that things are really not quite right.

But her mask is fixed firmly and not a lash is out of place when she smiles with no warmth.]

Good evening.

Re: perma-action

[knifemonopoly]

Good evening.

Please, come in!

[He gestures to the seat opposite him, but the gesture encompasses the whole room.]

Feel free to make any preparations you like.

[gothicgambit]

[Celeste sees the little deck of cards and chips already set out, and sits with all the demure grace of a debutante. She has no preparations to make, or anything on her at the moment. Leaning her head on one hand, she gives him a half-lidded, hunting sort of look. The game started when you see your competitor, not when chips are dealt, everyone knows that.]

May I examine the cards you've so graciously provided? Just for safety's sake.

[Does she think Atem would cheat? Hm.. likely not. He's far too noble at times. But likely not is far from definitely not and she wouldn't bet her life on either. For now, her heartbeat is slow and easy as a drum's beat, clear that she's working. She holds out a clawed hand for the deck.]

[knifemonopoly]

Certainly.

[He'd do the same, in her place. Atem picks up the deck, his own claws trimmed back, nails tidy and neat, and offers it to her across the table.

He reads like he isn't in any hurry at all, but not out of any kind of fear-induced attempt to prolong his life; these are important formalities, matters to be arranged, everything should be in order before the game starts. He'll know in his gut when it's time to deal the first hand.

He's at ease -- not relaxed, but the tension isn't uncomfortable, it's an old familiar friend. Her heartbeat, faint at the moment since Atem isn't poorly fed, keeps time evenly during the opening steps of what feels very much like a dance.

Or what he imagines a dance would feel like if he cared for dancing.]

[gothicgambit]

[She didn't expect there to be anything wrong with the deck, because Atem isn't stupid and she would notice in an instant. Still, she's glad he hadn't done anything foolish to try and get an early head start. She would have teased him to no end about such an amateurish play.

Finding it perfectly acceptable, her own long-clawed and extremely manicured fingers slide the cards back across the table.]

Very well, your cards are certainly adequate. Are there any preparations you would ask of me?

[Obviously not, since she had brought nothing and given nothing yet. But there's a daring sort of light in her eyes, translating for her - I know why I am here, if you have your questions, you may as well start asking and stop fucking with me.]