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Official Adoptions Status: CLOSED
A note: this close to the end, transfers of characters confer something of an unfair advantage, due to how they relate to the rolling system. As such, with the exception of any currently-pending transfers (if the staff have been notified, you're currently-pending; if not, you are not), any future handoffs will not affect the character's position on the rolling list. What that means is that they will be treated as belonging to their previous handler (whoever has them right now) for purposes of rolls, so you may be rolled multiple times if you take on someone else's character. I know this is a bit of an inconvenience, but it's the only really fair way to handle things at this point. If a handler with multiple characters gives them to different handlers, they will be split among those handlers, so long as the new handlers do not already have characters.

The Tenth Announcement
Yep. That will be the case, unless the terrorists decide to just leave the Hall of Mirrors a danger zone and not allow anyone the prize.

Altering the Deal
Things were going alright. Pretty well. Acceptably, at least. They were asking questions, but he could blow them off under the pretense of group security. All of this was stuff he could deal with. He just had to calm them down, keep them busy, and keep moving. They had to get out of this sawmill, for starters. This was not a good place to linger.

"I'll fill you in on it once I'm sure it's going to work," he said. "Until then, it's dangerous to say too much. I'm fairly sure it'll all work out, though."

Good enough. He had to get them moving, now. Had to get them tired out, get them less willing to resist by the time the announcements came. A walk sounded like just the thing for that.

"For now, we should head back to the residential area. There'll be more materials there, and our odds of finding some gas will be higher."

He stood, made it clear with his body language that he was getting ready to leave. He looked back at the two girls, though, and flashed them a quick smile.

"I just wanted to say, thanks for sticking with me through this. You've been a great team. I'd be dead a dozen times without you. I know I haven't always... been the best, and I really appreciate you. I never even saw most of my friends from school, so this has all meant a lot to me."

He told himself it was just words, just a way to win their trust, but it contained just a hint of truth. Back at school, Aaron had never been taken that seriously. He'd had his little group to lead, but even they didn't respect him consistently or totally. Aileen and Charlie, despite their myriad failings, did make him feel like he was really in charge of something.

When this was all over, he was actually going to miss them a bit.

"Let's go."

((Aaron Hughes continued in Lies, lies, lies))

Alternate Roleplay Ideas
Both sound pretty good, but sci fi sounds extra awesome.

V5 Pregame Location
The current plan is to timeskip to at least 2011 for V5. This is potentially subject to change, but I find it fairly unlikely.

The Tenth Announcement
The deadline passed a while ago for those who do not have extensions.

Burn On
From her place on the ground, with her blurred vision and tearing eyes, Kimberly could see perfectly for the first time in a long time. There was the discharge of a gun, the thump, the explosion that left her ears ringing, the screams of anguish or sadness. There were the blurs, there was the smoke, and there was Kris, and Kris was what she could see clearly, who she could see clearly. In that instant, she could understand. The chain of events was there in her mind, all too fresh. Boredom, anger, frustration—whatever had carried her to that dock with that knife to that boy's throat—and then it all went wrong. It all fell in on itself, collapsed into fear and pain.

Kris was no monster. She was no fiend. She was a scared girl, a scared girl with remarkably poor self control and decision-making skills, a scared girl perhaps somewhat deficient in empathy, but a scared girl nonetheless. That was all she'd ever been. Whatever happened with Reika, whatever had possessed her to come to that beach, that had been fear. When she'd pulled that trigger, when she'd sent Kimberly spinning to the ground, screaming and bleeding, that had been fear. She could see it. Someone approaches, tries to calm things down in the only way they know how, and it's just impossible to believe them. Oh yes, she could see it.

None of that meant a fucking thing.

There were screams again. There was death again. Kimberly was angry again. Now, though, now she knew more than ever that it wasn't justified. It was the same thing Jeremy had taught her in the forest, so long ago (and he still had her hat, didn't he? She hoped he had that fucking hat. Hoped he went home and looked at it and wondered for a good long time whether such a thing as a lucky hat existed): the strong could take what they wanted, and the weak had to live with it.

Kris wanted to live. Always had, probably. She was too stupid to go about it in a reasonable way, but she couldn't really be faulted for that. She wanted to live, and she was willing to do whatever she thought was necessary in order to survive. Reika, Roland, Kimberly, whoever had just died, all the others, they were nothing to her. Nothing, perhaps, except reminders of what she was losing to attain her goal.

Yes, Kimberly could begin to understand this.

And Erik was out there somewhere. Erik was out there, and Kris had who-knew-how-many shots left. Kimberly didn't want him to die. She didn't want anyone to die. She'd never truly planned to see death, never truly reconciled herself with the idea of killing, even after Aislyn.

This wasn't about her, though. This had absolutely nothing to do with her, with the fact that her anger had boiled away now, with the fact that she thought that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to walk over to Kris and say some silly nothing and they could sit down and talk and maybe make amends somehow. This had nothing to do with the fact that she'd just lost her stomach for torture entirely, at least, as far as Kris was concerned.

This was about someone in the background, grieving so loudly she could hear it as a whisper through the pain in her ears. This was about Erik, out there and in danger. This was about everyone Kris had killed, and everyone she still would kill. It was about lost friends and sisters and lovers, and it was a damn shame, and Kimberly knew there was nothing just or right or heroic about anything she'd done or anything she was going to do, but, just for once, she decided not to take the selfish route, not to do what she wanted, but to do something for everyone else.

Hey, Kris,

She stood, slowly, carefully, making sure not to tip over again. It was hard to hear. It would be hard for everyone to hear. Her hand slid away from her boot, holding the knife. Once fully upright, she took a couple deep breaths, looked at the blurs. Found the right one.

just thought you should know:

One step. Two steps. A flick of the wrist, and the knife was held underhand. She still had her manual dexterity. Good. A couple more steps, arm raising high. Moving, closer and closer. Behind Kris, now. Right behind her.

I forgive you.

She brought the knife down.

Introduction Thread
Hi, Byakko, and welcome to SOTF! Feel free to drop me (or any other staffer) a PM if you have any questions. Also, check out The New Handler's Guide. We hope you enjoy it here!

Burn On
Kimberly's fist never connected. Instead, a knee caught her in the gut, just to the side of the Molotov stuffed into her hand warmer. It knocked the wind out of her, killing her momentum entirely.

Better.

Then the fist to the face. It sent her staggering away, her vision blurring for half a second. Her legs weren't cooperating yet. She stumbled around Kris, finally collapsing on the ground a few yards behind her.

Better.

It hurt. She hurt. This was serious. Kimberly hadn't been on the receiving end of anything of this sort since Aislyn, and even that had been less extreme. She struggled to breath, to speak, but her chest hurt and her face hurt and nothing was working quite right. She raised her hand to her face, wiped it. It came away with some red specks. Mouth or nose? Hard to say. Hard to care. Nothing felt broken, but, then again, aside from a generalized pain, nothing really felt at all. She couldn't see well. The world was a blur.

Her glasses were gone.

Better still.

This was more like it. This was what she'd wanted. This was Kris Hartmann, mass murderer, worthy adversary, personal nemesis.

Kris wasn't really staying standing that well, though. Dammit. All this, and she still couldn't fucking stand on her own two feet?

And who the hell was asking her to identify herself? Whoever it was, they were mighty interested in Kris, and didn't give a fuck about Kimberly—at least, that seemed to be the case from what she could discern of the blurs. Kimberly absolutely hated being ignored. That was good. She could pin that on Kris, too. Kris was stealing her show. Kris was to blame.

She couldn't quite believe it. It made her sick. Maybe it made her cry a bit, or maybe that was the pain and trauma near her eyes. She couldn't even be mad about that. She was just confused, her head spinning, her face and stomach aching, her breath now coming in gasps and sighs.

She just hoped Erik would keep his head down. He seemed to be. She couldn't see him. Didn't know what he was doing. Making his way around to her, maybe, or getting an angle on the other guy. Maybe looking for a way to get the drop on Kris. She didn't even know if he was armed. Some fucking partner she was being. She tried to give a little thumbs up with her good hand, in case he was watching. She couldn't quite tell if it worked.

Stay back, all of you. Just stay away. I can do this. I can.

I can still make her pay.

Height/Weight
Awesome stats, Rattle!

A side note: you should put your weight in your profile if you want to be approved, too. I know I denied for it in V4, and that'll happen again (only more broadly) come V5.

The Tenth Announcement
Granted.

One day, twenty hours, and three minutes 'til deadline.

V5 Pregame Location
Also, unless I've missed something, it'll be Seniors again, as that seems to work out the best.

The Tenth Announcement
That sounds valid on all counts.

Extensions granted.

The V5 Sandbox
((Hiya! Pardon the brief interruption. Just moved this to Other Roleplaying to emphasize that it is non-canon, and that there will be no canon pregame stuff until it officially opens. I know Ciel said all this, but just wanted to make it doubly clear. That said, carry on with the practice, and have fun!))

The Tenth Announcement
Two days, twenty hours, and thirty-six minutes for deaths.

V5 Relationship Chart
Agreed. I think those four (friend, romance/crush, enemy/unfriendliness, acquaintance/non-friend-or-enemy-associate) would be good divisions.

This Will Eat You Alive
Lies. Panic. Hard to tell the difference, sometimes, but something was very wrong. The girl was offering as her only proof the fact that Claire couldn't see a weapon on her or someone else nearby. She was insisting on this stupid plan, claiming that Claire should put her gun down and leave. The phrasing was atrocious enough: put her gun down? What, on the ground? More than that, the girl was very insistent on this going down exactly according to her plan.

The desperation was pretty convincing, though. That, and the pain behind it, was all that was giving Claire pause. Even there, though, there were elements of an untruth that she could pick out. The girl wasn't totally scared. She was defiant, full of rude names and odd demands. At this point, Claire couldn't say what was truth and what was falsehood. She had to be careful, though, if she didn't want to get caught.

The girl was a killer, that much was certain. Why else the refusal to identify herself? She wasn't all that subtle, so she probably wasn't one of the top tier ones, but she could still be a huge threat.

If this was a routine, the confusion might be a part of it. People tended to slow down and stall out when they couldn't understand what was happening. That that was her strategy was a distinct possibility.

"Simplify. Get her out of your hair in a way that doesn't leave you open."

That was it. Get this encounter over as quickly as possible.

"Time for you to go," she said. "Whatever happened to your hand, you can still walk. Turn around and walk away now. If you're unarmed and have no partner, like you say, you really don't have any leverage at all. I don't see why I should be the one to leave."

The Tenth Announcement
Three days, twenty hours, and fifty-six minutes for deaths.

V5 Relationship Chart
By different charts, I meant, like, a crush chart, a friends chart, and a other stuff chart.

This would also allow each chart to go further in depth with the colors for different relationships.

V5 Relationship Chart
Definitely. Maybe even do separate charts for friends, romance, and class/clubs? That might make each one a bit more manageable.