END GAME: THE COUNTDOWN STARTS

[sailmods]

[the prisoners wake up on cold, hard floors.

the lights are bright, glaring, a sterile cell with sterile bars facing a sterile hall. the prisoners with you, across from you, and no one else. no rocking of a ship in waves, nothing. just the prisoner and their prison.

time passes, one assumes. the rhythmic click of Friday’s heels down the hall. it’s almost like the ticking of a clock.]

Comments

[kingoftheanthill]

"So, okay, the lady with the huge bird did that I think--"

This establishes in one go two very important facts: one, that Victor knows what is going on always, and two, this totally wasn't his fault.

"Because the ass guy tried to shoot her, and that's the last thing Flan said about (I was in her pocket and she told me what was going on), so she magicked us all into cells so no-one could shoot her any more, and she took your stuff away in case there was more guns in it." Said with absolute confidence that he is correct.

[takethatnature]

"I didn't have any guns in the first place," Wilson protests, as if this is the most relevant problem with the way he and the rest of the passengers are being treated. He lets out an aggravated sigh. How did Smug Bird Lady manage to give him an outfit with fewer pockets than if he were to walk around in his underwear? Never mind, it's not like he has anything to store at the moment.

"I guess that explains it," Wilson says, still sounding nonplussed and resentful. Not mad at Victor, though.

He looks out the barred... not even a door, so the only way out is teleportation, a hidden mechanism, or destroying the walls. Or being ants, Wilson corrects himself, as the stream of Victors in teeny tiny prison uniforms (why does he need those, are there normal ants somewhere nearby that he would need to be distinguished from???) scurries out between them and into the hall. It takes him a second to recognise Ossie beginning to stir in the cell across from them. He stands up and leans against the bars, which frustratingly don't pop an Attack prompt while holding down Ctrl wobble in a destructible-feeling fashion and are too densely placed to wrap his whole hand around. There's Dedue on one side and Gwen and Darcy on the other, but past that the angle's too sharp to see in.

"We need to check whether everyone made it, and then find the door controls. And by we I mean you, because I won't fit." Wilson thwaps one hand against the bars.