forum THE TOURNAMENT OF THE GODS! (9/9) (CLOSED THOUGH SPECTATORS ARE WELCOME TO WATCH)
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@LabradeedleLabradoodle public

Kiyo was frustrated, to say the least. He had plans he had made tomorrow. He had work he had to finish. He needed time to explain why he might never be seen again. To who he could explain something like this, he wasn't sure. They'd all call him a madman likely. He sighed, deciding to write a note and letting whoever found it take it how they will. But what to write…?

~~

To whoever finds this letter,

I apologise that you must hold this burden, but I ask you to share this to whoever might care, as this may be my final message for awhile, or even forever. I don't know how I could begin to explain this any sort of properly, but just know that I could very well be dead by the time you read this letter. I have no time for a super proper explanation, I can't even explain it to myself, really. And don't bother with calling the police if that's what you're thinking to do either. I know that this, of all things, is something no one can save me from. Not even myself. Just make sure that this reaches who it needs to. I cannot stress that enough. I don't care who you are; A family member, a co-worker, a robber that just broke into my house and read all this for whatever reason. Just respect what could be a dead man's wishes is all I ask.

Sincerest apologies,
signature-1
Kiyowara Lyndon, Head of the Detective Agency

~~

He signed his name in a deep red ink, as he did with all of his letters, the letters smearing this time from his bitter tears of regret. He bit the end of his pen, gathering what he thought he needed for this tournament. He gathered clothes, leaving behind the old school uniform that his father gave him. Usually he would take it everywhere, but he didn't want it torn or bloodied, so he left it behind, neatly folded on his bed. Did it really matter what he wore during his death, though? He might as well show up in a suit so he at least looks nice in his grave. He sighed, packed a few casual outfits and a suit for the laughs, though he had no real intentions of wearing it. Did he need food? He knew the moderator said breakfast wouldn't be provided, but was there really a point in eating anymore if he was to die anyways? He packed food anyways. Even if his death was almost guaranteed, fighting for his life was still an option, and that wouldn't be quite easy on an empty stomach. What else…? A weapon maybe? As if he could will himself to harm anyone with a weapon. He'd likely hurt himself with it first. Yet again, though, he contradicted himself, putting a long kitchen knife into his bag.

"Nothing else," he muttered to himself. "There's no need for anything else." He dropped the bag on the bed next to his old school uniform. He sat on the edge of his bed, just staring out of the window. He couldn't will himself to think how unfair it was to him, because he could only imagine how some of the others were feeling. He knew not of their lives, but the expressions that he could see on each individual's face gave him more than an idea of their feelings. Giddiness, anguish, indifference, regret. Each spoke loudly from each person's face. Lord knows what his own face said. He decided to spend the rest of the day with his close friend, resisting the urge over and over to tell him that he may not ever see him again. He couldn't. He didn't want to make his last words to his friend haunting. He wanted to be happy with him for what could be the last time. Unforunately masking feelings isn't as easy as the novels made it seem.

"Kiyo," his friend called out. "You seem on edge, what's the matter?"

Kiyo sighed, shaking his head. "Just my detective work taking a toll on me, nothing serious." He allowed a small smile onto his face for the briefest moment, but only that moment.

His friend gave him a skeptical stare, forcing Kiyo to think up a way to tell his friend the bad news. He sat in silence for a moment before a thought finally came to him.

"Farland, I don't really want to talk about it right now, but I'll tell you what. Come to my house, around 3 o'clock, and I'll try to explain everything." Kiyo knew he'd likely already be gone by then, but his friend would still receive the explanation if someone else doesn't get to it first.

Farland nodded, and let a smile form on his face. "Well, no reason to dwell on it, mmm? Would you like to play chess? I swear I know how to beat you this time."

"…Farland says, for the 27th time," Kiyo snidely remarked, causing Farland to grumble as he happily set up the glass board to play with his best friend.

@Tired-but-passionate

“Mag? I heard voices. And a bunch of other stuff…”
Claire opened the door to find Magnolia crouching on the floor, the box of chocolate syrup on its side on the ground, the bottles scattered about the isle. Magnolia was quietly sobbing into her knees. Claire dashed over to her.
“Hey, hey! What’s wrong? Look at me.”
She slowly looked up, her dark eyes red and wet with anguish. Claire, my love…
She knew in that moment that she may never see her again. Or her aunt, her cousin, her darling, eccentric grandfather….
And what about her work and classes? How was she going to explain? What about her future? Well, it wasn’t like she was particularly good at planning for the future anyway…
“I… I can’t tell you right now. When we get home?” She managed, her voice breaking slightly. “I’m going to leave with you.”
Claire’s features twisted into a look of concern and confusion. Mag could tell she wanted her to tell her right now, but she sighed. “Okay.”
The rest of Magnolia’s shift passed in a blur. Instead of leaving at around 11 like she usually did, she left with Claire at around 8. She told her manager that she’d simply gotten the news that a loved one had died, which, when she thought about it, was her.
In the back of her mind, she knew she would lose the tournament.
When they got to the apartment, she finally had the strength to tell Claire everything that had occurred in that blasted supply closet. When she finished, Claire was silent for a few moments. Mag knew she wasn’t really one to worship or believe in the gods. That didn’t hinder their relationship though, which she liked. Now, however…
“I… I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. “I believe you, but… it’s hard to process.”
Mag nodded. “Same here.”
She straightened on her bed. “The least I can do is help you prepare, right? I can tell your not gonna be able to do anything but sleep after this.”
“Thanks,” she said, nearly weeping again. “I… I just can’t think or do anything right now.”
“Help me,” Claire shrugged. “Maybe folding clothes will take your mind off things.”
“Maybe…”
So Magnolia tackled the clothes while Claire did…. everything else. She almost felt guilty that she wasn’t doing more, but it was all she could do to keep her hands from shaking as she folded the more casual and physically suited clothing in her closet. As well as 3 dozen pairs of gloves. She didn’t know how long the tournament would last, or the specifics of the mental and physical challenges. This made Claire slightly frustrated, as she wanted to know exactly what would happen so they could be prepared for everything. Mag reminded her that that would be impossible anyway, so just get the most important things. Claire returned from the kitchen and bathroom with basic medical supplies, a canteen of water, deodorant (because of course your going to need that in a death tournament, Claire had joked, but then Magnolia remembered that she was going to meet The Archivist when she got there), and two boxes of matches. Mag was looking through the upper shelves of the closet by this point, trying to find extra bras and underwear when she felt something. She carefully pulled it out.
“Hey, it’s that old film reel you gave me…” she held it gingerly in her palms, blowing dust off of it. “I kinda wanna take it with me for some reason.”
“I mean…” Claire looked up from packing the medical supplies. “If you want to. If you’re careful.”
“Sure. Just… just something that’ll remind me of you.” Magnolia smiled genuinely for the first time since they got home.
Claire returned the smile, blushing. “Pack it in, then.”

The room was dark except for the moon peeking out the window, checking in on the two women like a worried mother.
“I have a bunch of yoga and physical exercises we can do tomorrow,” Claire suggested, her voice soft as they lay in bed together.
“I know some fun puzzle games…” Mag replied sleepily.
“Sounds nice.”
Mag opened her eyes to look at her. She was staring straight up at the ceiling. Taking her hand, she managed, “Thank you so much, Claire. I love you.”
She didn’t respond, but Mag heard the soft sound of sobbing. She couldn’t help but do the same, crying herself to sleep.

@SpookyScarySnoteleks group

Juniper lay on her bed, a bored expression on her face. She suddenly sat up, remembering that her roommate and business partner, Tori, was coming home from a date soon. She sat down in the living room, waiting for her to arrive. The second the door opened and the woman walked inside, Juni went to greet her. "Tori, can you run the shop for me?"
"Of course. How long?"
Juniper hummed thoughtfully to herself. "Dunno. But the gods are having a tournament and I'm going. I might die, so worst case scenario… forever."
Tori's jaw dropped. "What? E-explain."
"What else do you need to know? The gods are having a tournament. I got picked to go. If I win, I become a god, if I don't, I die."
"That's… a lot." The woman sighed as she sat down, pulling off her jacket.
"Yeah, but I'm excited! I can't wait for tomorrow! I've got everything packed already!"
Tori retreated into her bedroom, yawning. "If I don't see you before you go, good luck!"
"Thanks!" Juniper grinned as she returned to her own room to get a good night's rest.

Deleted user

(Me, doin the mushroom dance and vibing as all your characters suffer because Mod was unintentionally vague: Mushroom dance, mushroom dance, whatever could it mean? It means you've lived a life of sin!)

Deleted user

(Not really, my boy leaves most things loose because he appreciates everything his devotees offer him, no matter what)

@larcenistarsonist group

Charlie and James walked up to the shrine for their god, the Overseer of Death. Charlie felt as if a thousand pound weight fell off her shoulders as she walked up to the simple pool of water. Black and grey rocks surrounded the silvery water. The water never moved, it was still and calm, just like death. Pink flowers dotted the rocks with colors as they grew between the cracks of the stones. James took a seat in the simple black chair nearby and Charlie knelt down to pray. She bowed her head and mumbled a few words.

My Lord the Overseer of Death. I humbly kneel before you today to ask for your guidance. A man showed up today to tell me that I was chosen to participate in a terrible tournament in your name. I fear that I may die if I don't win. I know that your teaching tell me to not fear the aftermath of life, but I just can't help it. James is too young to be without family. I can't leave him, my Lord, I can't leave my little brother alone. Tears rolled off her cheeks and into the pool of water. There were no ripples, no splash, just stillness.

"James," Charlie called for her brother, her voice cracking halfway through. "I need to tell you something."

@LabradeedleLabradoodle public

(Me, doin the mushroom dance and vibing as all your characters suffer because Mod was unintentionally vague: Mushroom dance, mushroom dance, whatever could it mean? It means you've lived a life of sin!)

(lmfao mood)

Deleted user

(She likes order, has a soft spot for love, and if you bring her cream puffs she'll give you good luck.)

Deleted user

(For lifey boy, bring books. For Exile, bring candles and knives)