antumbrac | FIRST TRIAL

Trial I

The opera house doesn't seem to have gotten any changes. There are no lights on the windows, the lobby is dark. Only when everyone is gathered there something does happen: Rembrandt appears, opening the main stage doors, the large and heavy doors creaking when they open.

Rembrandt herds everything together, guiding them down the halls of the seating area. You better not stray from the hallway -- there's a very palpable sensation that something's deeply wrong about this place. You may perhaps see the form of something moving, blending with the darkness. Wait...it's several forms. A few pairs of intensely blue eyes, eyes that so far only Ango may have seen before, gaze at everybody. You really shouldn't try to approach. At least they don't try to come closer, cowed by Rembrandt's presence.

The main stage is the objective here. It's lit rather brightly, with the spotlights the Lady had used for her introduction a few days ago, illuminating the stage. In what's a rather ominous touch, the backdrop depicts hellfire. There aren't any props around, other than a few seats that seem to be spares for seats in one of the minor auditoriums, not even enough seats for everyone. Rembrandt blends into the darkness.

"Welcome!"

That's the Lady's voice, coming from high up. Looking up, you'll find a balcony to a side, large and with two seats. There's the Lady, wearing her dress, visible even in the darkness. She's standing up right now and leaning on the railing, shouting at them.

"Let's try to make this short and sweet. We figured it'd be fun if you all got to discuss who killed dear annoying Elliot. Give us a name, and we'll execute that person. Nice and simple, don't you think?"

"So, culprit who saved so many people from us...now you have to struggle for your own life. Oh, we never told you about this before? Don't feel bad, there's a lot we don't tell you all about. She sits down, adjusting her dress.

"I'm not going to pretend I care about you all catching the right person. Just give us a name and let the culprit go free, for all I care. Get started, we don't have all day to do this! You only have seven hours! Get moving!"

Here you are, all the actors in this impromptu play about justice, and the audience is...well there certainly is an audience larger than you were expecting. Everyone will hear the noises of those things moving around in the seating area, from time to time directing their eyes at the group, but they still make no attempt to approach. Looks like the audience that really matters is up there, in the balcony.

Let the trial for the death of Elliot Schafer begin.

[OOC NOTE: From the halfway point of the trial and onwards, you'll have the option to ask the masterminds for the chance to get a hint! Be warned, though: the price will involve some body horror for your character. Keep that in mind when deciding to use this option!]

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[ There's no mud! Not even ink stains from all the pens he's been handling. There's some fibers if he looks closely though. ]

People do clean themselves though, you know.

They really do, but maybe we'll get lucky.

[ What color fibers?

Sorry, Dazai, Rean couldn't help but pitch in to help. ]

Edited 2020-01-11 20:43 (UTC)

[ He's fine with it. Rean is probably better at people-ing anyways. ]

[ He smiles and waves at Rean, ignoring Dazai for his attention. His biases are obvious.

But the fibers are light in color. ]

With these many people, I'm sure luck won't be needed.

[ wow. just going to lean on rean then, binch, as he peeks at it too.

so we have light, coarse colored fibers. ]

Ah~ You left something there.

[ Dazai, please... ]

So I did ~ [ He inspects his nails delicately and digs them out with a different finger.

Then proceeds to put them on Dazai. ] For your consideration.

Thank you~ I'll be sure to check them against the wig and scarves found.

[ Grabbing the fibers. He'll wait for Rean's question to be answered first.]

[ Overhearing this... Hm. ]

Let me see those.

(no subject)

deadlygoals - 2020-01-11 21:42 (UTC) - Expand

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[ He'll grant him a gentle smile too, though it faded as he noticed the fibers some more.

Hm. Light fibers... ]

...That's certainly true. We're bound to find something at some point.

[ There's a small pause ]

Can you tell me where these might be from? The fibers on your hands, that is.

Could be from a lot of things.

[ His shirt is white, underneath his gakuran, for one. And he puts it on daily. ]

...It looks like it's from Elliot's jacket. Are you going to try to explain why?

[ He's definitely not happy about this. ]

[ Sorry Rean. ]

Would you like me to?

Edited 2020-01-11 22:03 (UTC)

reanbeans - 2020-01-11 22:05 (UTC) - Expand

tokihanate - 2020-01-11 22:12 (UTC) - Expand

[Hmm, well since he did bring some of the remaining scarves, might as well check here - could those fibers have come from these scarves?]

[ Unfortunately no! The scarves are all pretty colorful as you might expect given the clothing choices available backstage, and the fibers aren't course but silky. ]

[Yep, that's about what he was expecting. Well, that's all he's got to contribute!!!]

[ Just hopping here, and also keeping Rean close. Do the fibers match an of Elliot's clothing or his backpack/book bag? ]

[ What kind of fibers? Paper or cloth? ]

I know~ We already know the killer may have cleaned themselves in the bathroom.

I didn't see any traces of mud in the bathroom, though, which I would have expected given how sloppy it all was.

[ Huh. That is interesting. ]

The rain might have taken care of that for them.

[ RAIN WHY ARE YOU BLOCKING THEM ]

Unless the mess in the bathroom was from them filling up the buckets.

I was wondering about that myself, honestly. Then again, if it was raining, why would you need to fill up buckets in order to get mud?

It probably had something to do with them needing to transport the mud places, if anything.

baitless - 2020-01-11 20:58 (UTC) - Expand

Waitin' for a bucket to fill up from rain alone would take hours.

baitless - 2020-01-11 21:00 (UTC) - Expand

moonfang - 2020-01-11 21:01 (UTC) - Expand

It wasn't raining steadily on Thursday. It might not have been raining when they needed the mud for their little art show.

[ He's just holding his hand out still here, like some hand model.

It's small to say what kind of fibers they are, since they're small enough to be between his nails but upon close inspection: it's coarse. ]