>>28518650
>> Take the History Club room now. Forgiveness is easier, etc. etc.

>>28518650

Take the Hist room now.

>>28518722
>>28518714

'The fourth floor?' Elina turns around and gazes up. 'Uh... is there a toilet there?'

You can't help chuckling at that. 'Of course. I don't know if it *works*, though. Do you want to go up there now?'

'Yes, now. I'll have to see it quickly.'

So begins your career as a high-school real estate agent. To your surprise, they've even closed the stairway gate which leads up to the fourth floor, though it isn't locked; when you turn around to Elina, though, she looks a little pleased at this. The moment you go upstairs you begin kicking up dust, but she doesn't seem to mind that either, turning around and studying the footprints on the grey-white concrete.

You head to the toilet with Elina in tow, and attempt to turn on one of the taps, but the thing is... grrh...

'Let me.' she nudges you aside and grips the rough, green-brown metal knob. There is a screech and a groan, followed by water sputtering out; Elina moves to take it but you stop her until it runs clear. 'Oh, I don't mind.'

'It's pretty nasty, this place.' Only one urinal is still on its mount. The toilet stall walls are all falling or fallen, leaning on each other. 'History room.'

The window slats cascade dust when you open them to let in some daylight, which makes you sneeze uncontrollably, kicking up even more dust until you hold your nose and turn blue to stop yourself; but she seems completely unconcerned, glancing around - at the water-stained ceiling, the bare concrete floor, the glass cabinet without glass. Or doors. Or, really, any cabinet-ing capabilities.

A box holds a pile of papers on one side, and she turns to you helplessly; they turn out to be timelines, worksheets and the like. Seriously. As you study them, Elina suddenly moves to nuzzle your neck, but then quickly shrinks back when you flinch.

'I'm sorry.'

> Right. What do/say now, Stanley? This place is... well, she's lived in the basement, so the bar's pretty low.

>>28518650
> Take the History Club room now. Forgiveness is easier, etc. etc.

>>28519001
"It's fine, surprised is all. You going to be ok here for now? Want me to get something for you? Blankets or I think I've got a sleeping bag somewhere... I could stop by your old place, geab something from there if you like?"
Not gonna bring up the suitcase yet. Something feels weird.

>>28519001

It's okay. Do you need help cleaning the place?

>>28519175
>>28519103

'No, no, it's fine. I was just surprised.' You rub your neck lightly. 'Uh, I mean pleasantly surprised. Not like surprised by something bad or anything.'

'I see...'

Elina appears to be slipping back into her usual, rather spaced out behaviour, glancing at you, and then glancing past you at the cracked wall. You just stand there watching the incongruously dressed girl glance around the whole room, waiting for her to get back to you. This is odd. It's the sort of time when you should be thinking of something, or at least when there's noise in your brain, but already you just feel calm. What thoughts do come, come in a soft voice. Something bad has happened. Well, we'll deal. Elina might be evil. Well, we'll deal.

We'll figure it out. For once, you're using the plural pronoun appropriately this time.

'So, anyway... do you need any help cleaning up the place? Or, like... wait, are you actually sleeping here? Because there's no place to sleep here.' The room is actually quite spacious, almost the size of half a classroom. Man, you'd live here if you could. Except this is school, of course, and you're not really eager to be in school any longer than absolutely fucking necessary. 'Maybe if I got you some blankets... or maybe if you've got anything in your place, I mean I was there but I didn't see-'

'Stop. Stop.' She wanders around a little, drifting towards the window. 'You went to my place.'

'Yeah.'

'Did you see a suitcase? In... in my room?'

Her voice sounds fearful. You hesitate. You know, this room... you could actually make it really nice. Given the shithole Elina was in, it seems you should... maybe you could do something better for her... that might please her?

> What do/say, Stan?
> You have her suitcase, and you also have a music box she might recognise.

>>28519374
Show her the music box. We should check what's in the suitcase before we give it to her.

>>28519421

You don't have it with you. Bring it to her later, you mean?

Will you leave now, then?

>>28519432
naw, tell her we did in fact see the suitcase

>>28519432
Sure, I'll change >>28519421 to
>leave now

>>28519432

Say we have it. Does she want it?

>>28519374
"Oh, yea, I found that. You want me to bring it here?" Either way, find out if she needs anything else, then go.

Rolled 94

>>28519374
warn her about the guy we found in her old place, the guy she mauled in the park

>>28519421
>>28519470
>>28519471
>>28519485
>>28519569
>>28520100

> Sorry everyone - internet was borked.

The suitcase. Blood. Elina's been reacting to all sorts of things a little strangely today. You had tried to open the suitcase earlier, but it was locked; what could be inside it? Perhaps... her tools for doing her murdering?

Then again, does she even need tools? Come think of it, that man she mauled who was masturbating in her apartment, his eyes glazed as if crazed with longing... ugh. You take a good long look at her to push the image out of your mind.

'Uh, yeah. I saw the suitcase. So-'

'Did you take the suitcase?' A hand shoots out to grip your wrist again, and for a fleeting moment pain shoots up your elbow before she remembers and loosens her grip. 'Sorry. Sorry about that, I...'

You frown. She does not sound particularly fearful or frightened or disappointed that you took the suitcase, in the way she reacted when you asked about her at the motel. But then it isn't enthusiasm in her grip either. 'No, it's fine. But was I not supposed to take the suitcase? Because, uh, yeah. I kinda took it. Do you want it or something?'

Elina looks down at her shoes - rather tattered shoes, mind - and you get the distinct sense something's wrong, very wrong. When finally she looks back up at your face, though, her eyes are bright again.

'It's... it's all right. Could you please do me a favour? I want the stuff inside the suitcase. The code is 4-9-2-7. I just want the papers inside. As for the suitcase, please burn it. Can you do that? Or maybe just... throw it away?'

> What do/say, Stan?
> If you're leaving now, decide what to bring back other than the papers. Elina doesn't even have clothes now, it seems, other than this ridiculous outfit. Does she even have underwear...?

>>28520100

> Damn, forgot this.

As you consider your reply, the image of the man with his cock hanging out in her old place forces its way back to your mind, and this time you have to mention it. 'By the way, Elina. Do you remember that guy you injured the other day? Do you know he's, like... he's like after you?'

If you were expecting surprise or shock, you didn't get either. Elina simply blinks a few times, then facepalms. 'Yes... it's all right. I'll deal with him.'

Deal with him - the hell does that mean? 'Well, you don't really have to deal, I told him to piss off when I saw him. He's fucking weird, though, you know-'

'Yeah, Stan. I know. I'm aware.'

>>28521025
Ok, just making sure. So code is 4927, you want the papers, I should just burn anything else inside the suitcase along with the suitcase itself?

>>28520930
>Bring back the papers, music box, and maybe we can stop by the thrift store to get some clothes.

>>28521025
This >>28521060 sounds good, but I'd like to read the papers first.

>>28521053
>>28521060
>>28521196

Elina's reassurance, if it was meant as a reassurance, doesn't really work except to make it sound even more ominous. She knows... she's aware. She almost sounds like your inner voice sometimes, when you're faced with the prospect of getting hounded down and tormented by Gerald and his gang. Oh, they're going to force you to eat slugs. Oh look, they see you have a paper bag with a snack inside, youre not going to be able to eat that snack.

You know, Stan. You're aware.

Come think of it, though, you've completely forgotten the excitement - and agony - of hitting Gerald and getting battered in return, what with the excitement of seeing Elina again after the weekend. But you can talk to her later, surely. 'Right. So... 4927, right?'

'Yeah. It's...' but then Elina trails off without elaborating. 'Yeah, that's right.'

'Okay. And the suitcase itself, I should burn it?' Where on earth are you going to burn it? You can remember that suitcase - it is a wooden one, quite heavy. Probably would make good firewood, except it's been ages since you started a fire.

'Yeah. Or just, like... throw it away. Take it far from here. Someone's watching that suitcase, you see...'

'Someone's- what?' You watch Elina's face as she shakes her head gently, then suddenly perks up as if something's struck her in the face.

'No, no, wait. Actually, Stan, bring me the entire suitcase. I don't want you getting into trouble because of it...'

> Probe. She's not slipping this line past you again. You don't want her in trouble either.
> Obey. (Next post you'll be at home)
> Other.

>>28521343
>> Obey. (Next post you'll be at home)

>>28521343
>Probe. She's not slipping this line past you again. You don't want her in trouble either.
Forewarned is forearmed.

>>28521515

Second this one. We should know.

>>28521960
>>28521515
>>28521409

'I don't want you getting into trouble.' 'I want you to be safe.' 'I want you to stay out of trouble.'

For some reason those lines irk you, even though you can see and appreciate the intention behind them. Look, you're not some 12 year old boy who's never been *in* trouble before. 'Staying out of trouble' is a bit overdue for you; you, and your whole damned family, have been in trouble since four years ago, maybe even more.

What's more, it's not like not telling you will get you out of trouble... and besides you want *Elina* to be safe too. Does she not know that you're worried about her too, when she just upped and walked away? It seems Elina assumes that *you* would be the selfish one. But... you don't want to be selfish with her.

Brooding over those thoughts, you back up against the wall, and even through your clothes you can feel how dusty the concrete surface is. Come on, Stan, you've only just met her again, let's not blow up...

'Is something the problem, Stan?'

'I don't know, Elina. It sounds that you'd know more about that than me, right?'

'Huh?' She blinks. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, what *is* the problem, Elina? You say someone is watching the suitcase, and then you don't tell me. You're clearly scared enough that you want me to destroy the suitcase. But then now you say, no, keep the suitcase and pass it to you. What's that supposed to mean? If the suitcase is dangerous and you have it, then you're in danger, isn't it?'

'I...' You sense she's about to try and pull a leaving trick again. Sure enough, Elina frowns. 'Look, there's some things I can't just tell you about now. But you see, if I have the suitcase, then I can handle it...'

> What do/say, Stan? This stubborn girl!

>>28522225
She makes it sound like the suitcase is alive.

>>28522225
grrrr I'll just get the papers and burn it.

>>28522225
>Look, there's some things I can't just tell you about now. But you see, if I have the suitcase, then I can handle it...'

We just want answers. If the suitcase means she can answer our questions, then fine we'll get the suitcase. But no more dodging questions.

>>28522225
"I understand that you can't tell me some things, and I'm not asking you to. I just need to know who, or what, I need to be looking out for. Don't you understand? I want your problems to be my problems."

>>28522257
>>28522278
>>28522433
>>28522476

Damnit, Elina! You don't know what to be more bitter about. People who hate you and want to fuck you up, that you know all too well. People who don't give a shit about you, well, you know enough about that too.

But you haven't had someone care for you *and* make you this frustrated before. You want her to know that you aren't some retard who can't take care of any business, hers or yours. But if saying that makes her angry, then...

'Okay, Elina. Fine.' You hit upon the course of action, turn around and open the door, only to have the bloody metal handle come off in your hand. Damnit! Fiddling with the door until it finally concedes and opens, you go out into the corridor. 'I'm not doing what you say. I'll come back with the papers and take the suitcase out and dump it somewhere, and if the suitcase eats me-'

'It's not the suitcase itself,' she interjects, calmly.

'Fine. Then if whatever is watching the suitcase comes after me, then so be it. I won't know what it is, until it's too late, and then I'll be dead meat. But it's fine.'

'NO!'

The cry feels as if the previous conversation was all repressing some anguish that then got released in a single sound, and suddenly all the frustration in you is replaced with worry, a slightly nauseating feeling that bubbles up to your throat. You don't have a choice but to stop. When you turn around, Elina's fists are bunched up, which sets off alarm bells, but she doesn't move, just stands there and breathes, hard.

> cont'd.

>>28522614

'... yeah?'

'Just bring it to me. Why can't you just bring it to me and let me handle it?'

'Don't you know you're asking the same thing of me? So if whoever it is comes after you, am I not supposed to care?'

Elina's eyes widen, and the balled fists suddenly unclench. She looks up at you, speechless, and the urge within you is to go up and give her a nice, deep kiss and hope she reciprocates and then make up. But no. This thing has to be cleared.

'I'm not asking you to reveal everything, okay? I'm not saying tell me every secret right now. But if the suitcase is dangerous because there's someone out there, I want to know who it is. I want your problems to be my problems, okay? I don't want you thinking that the best way to keep me safe is to make me not know anything.'

'That's not my point.' She sounds sullen, and has looked away.

'Then don't dodge my questions. I'll bring you the suitcase. But tell me what's troubling you. You just look... so troubled. If you're not safe, then I'm not safe either, okay? All right?'

'... fine,' Elina says, slumping visibly.

You make sure to wash your feet in the rainy puddle before heading out, trying not to be noticed by anyone. School on Sunday is really, really odd...

> Roll d100.
> Okay. So what do you want to bring back for Elina? Suitcase, music box, clothes maybe?
> And will you open the suitcase?

Rolled 53

>>28522795
>Bring the suitcase, music box and clothes.
>Open the box when we get back to the school.

Rolled 48

>>28522795
>>28522826
Agreed.

Rolled 81

>>28522795

Probably open the box.

Get her underwear, a sports bra or something.

>>28522963
>>28522852
>>28522826

> 81: Luck!

Stepping out into the rain, you consider all the people who might discover you and rank them in order of 'who would most likely consider you an attempted multiple rapist'. Oddly enough, after a little thought, it occurs to you that the risk doesn't seem to be that high, unless people simply want an excuse to fuck you up.

Well, that puts schoolmates at the top of the list, then. Tessa's your alibi; you think you can trust her to back you up before anyone who's more reasonable. But then that is a pretty big if, if people are reasonable.

Next would be the police. Dear god, the police. In the year and a half you've been here, you haven't even seen that many of them in Mackelmore, but almost every time they're here, it's because there's trouble - and they've never responded in a way that hasn't made more trouble. Another case of attempted rape ended up with some guy shot to death in the streets, a whole week or so of protests, and then two days of outright rioting. Your street only escaped because it was *already* shit.

Now that there's all this trouble, they're going to be out hitting everyone they see, probably... thankfully, while you can already see evidence of police presence while on the bus, no one seems to notice you. Why should they? It's the only good point of being an invisible person - when shit goes down, no one looks at you. Best keep it that way...

Finally, you kind of hope Mom would be at home to yell at you for coming back when she told you not to, but she isn't here either. She's not going to think of you as a rapist, probably. Phew. Lugging the stuff, you head for a thrift store, where an old man and a petite college girl ask you what you're after. Come think of it, Elina's figure and the girl's are reasonably similar.

> Risk spaghetti and ask the girl.
> Just get something casual.
> Get something cutesy.
> Get something slightly more elaborate.
> Other.

>>28523140
>> Just get something casual.

Rolled 22

>>28523140
> Try and find something casual.
> Realise complete ignorance of female attire.
> Stan, you git, you've got plenty of female family members.
> Give up, risk spaghetti.

>>28523307
>>28523287

> 22: Pasta is served.

Elina, Elina... well, you know she liked that little flowery dress, but somehow you suspect she doesn't have it anymore. Certainly it wasn't in the house, in her closet or anything. Did Kelvin- uh, Lars- might he have taken it?

So he's a bit... in love with Elina as well? Dear god, that almost doesn't bear thinking about. Look for clothes, Stan, just look for clothes. You browse the shelves and racks, looking over some long dresses... no, that seems a bit too... off. T-shirts, maybe? Is this for guys or girls? Is there a difference?

You glance over at the underwear section, with a sign saying that everything has been properly cleaned. Well, you'd bloody well hope so! But, uh... oh, shit. Well, you've never really got a bra for anyone before... RIGHT YOU KNOW WHAT? You get a pair of loose-looking trousers, a t-shirt, and then sigh and head to the college girl, who's currently on a stepladder at the bookshelves organising stuff. 'Ahem, excuse me...'

She looks down, and then hops off the ladder. Short, red-dyed hair, a piercing in her septum, cute in a slightly rough way. 'Yes, is everything okay?'

'I... I was just wondering if you think these clothes would fit on you?'

'Hmm?' She pauses, nods, shakes her head a little, and then looks at the trousers.

'Also, I, uh, need to buy some underwear. Like, a bra. So I was also wondering if...'

'If?' A hint of a smile cracks on her face. 'Does she look like me in that department too?'

'Well, you're a little...' STOP RIGHT THERE STAN STOP RIGHT THERE

> What do/say, Stan? You need to get these clothes!

>>28523650
Man up and ask her for advice.

>>28523650
>'Well, you're a little...'
'She's kinda...there's some different...I'm not...there's no right way for this conversation to go is there?'

>>28523711
>>28523751

Okay. You've stopped. In time. Good, Stan. Now you just need to take three deep breaths, and-

'So... is everything all right?' Don't interrupt me before I even take a deep breath, you stupid person! But of course you don't say that, which is another testament as to your willpower. You look down at yourself, following her gaze, wondering if you're showing an erection or something (you're not). But you do look weird anyway, with a suitcase in one hand, a music box in the other, and clothes. 'If your friend or girlfriend looks a little like me, I'd say the trousers would be lovely. But those t-shirts might be a bit too baggy.'

'Oh, thank you, I mean it,' you sigh and smile. Is it just you, or... or are you actually finding it easier to talk to people these days? The girl smiles in return, a nice, wide smile, her lips pink and glossy. And then you jump right into the spaghetti bowl. 'So, about the bra. Right. There, uh... there's sizes, right, and then I think she's a bit... different, and then... I'm not saying you're, you know... but...'

Her smile twitches, and then opens into a chuckle which she quickly covers. 'I'm sorry!' She mutters. Of course, Stan, you're the customer this time! You can do whatever you- okay, not *whatever*, but... 'right. Just a simple question,' she says after recovering, and then puts her hands by her side and straightens. 'Am I bigger or smaller?'

Really? Seriously? You glance at her breasts... okay look away now. Okay you didn't get any of that. Look again. Okay look away now. Okay still didn't register STOP. After a while, you gesture helplessly.

'I think smaller. I mean- she's smaller, you're bigger.'

'Then you need a sports bra...' she leads you to the section, just under a TV, the newscaster's voice soft but audible.

> cont'd.

>>28523906

As the girl looks through the bras, you look up self-consciously. The TV is the only safe place to stare at... except nothing on it is pleasant.

'It has been some hours since the attack on two girls in Mackelmore District, and the police have released a note found near the scene of the crime, where one of the victims was left in a critical condition...'

As the newscaster proceeds to read the note, you find yourself wanting to move but being unable to.

'Dear people,

You think I am the one who is responsible, but there is someone far worse than me who has forced me to do this. If not for her, I would be a normal person.

I am not afraid of being caught. Find me and you will find the real monster. I will happily lead you to her.

If you don't find me, I will continue to show you what I am made to become. I will show you in blood, again and again.

Lars.'

Lars. It *is* him, then. And there's no doubt who the real monster he's referring to is...

> What do you feel about this, Stan?

Meanwhile, the girl glances up at the TV as well, and then nudges you gently, which brings you back. 'I'm sorry, what?'

'I think this one... would probably fit someone like me,' she says, holding up a black bra. 'Shall I get this for you? Are you getting this for a new girlfriend or something?'

'Well, kinda I suppose...' Be normal, Stan. Be as normal as possible.

'That's sweet. Well, you'll want to note the size then so you know...' it seems she's trying to... socialise with you.

> Be nice to the girl. Ask her name, talk a little.
> Get stuff, get out.
> Other.

>>28524031
>> Get stuff, get out.

Be polite, but we should get that stuff to Elina.

>>28524031
>What do you feel about this, Stan?
What a prick, she's not a monster. And 'Lars' needs to own up to his own shit, not blame Elina, or anyone else.
>Be nice to the girl. Ask her name, talk a little.
Flex those S-link skills. Ask if the septum piercing hurt.

>>28524031
> Be nice to the girl. Ask her name, talk a little. >What do you feel about this, Stan?
Where there's smoke there's fire. Even putting aside Lars' confession, Elena has been covered in blood for quite a large proportion of the time we've known her for. There must be *something* wrong with her - and not just strange in the way that we are strange.

>>28524116
>>28524146
>>28524224

To be honest, your first instinct is not really to stay and talk - not after seeing that bloody 'confession note' from Lars. Oh come on. You don't have to be an idiot to recognise a serial killer like him. To blame Elina for what he's doing? What does that even mean? Forcing him to be something he isn't?

Then again... your mind wanders back to that epiphany you had just earlier today. Look, Stan. This Lars might not even be the first person to be, well, influenced by Elina into some sort of seriously dodgy stuff. 30 bodies' worth of bones in a basement. People disappearing... people appearing in chunks...

Elina is not exactly human, you really don't think. No, you know that. But you keep going back to that old question. What, honestly, is human? If someone kills other people but treats you very nicely, are you supposed to hate them as well? Those other people aren't your concern. You've never been theirs, so why should you return that favour?

Shit, you're standing too long at the counter! 'Sorry, you were saying?'

'Oh,' the girl says, 'I was just telling you the size of those clothes. Thinking of something?'

'Ah,' you smile and shake your head. 'Just... about what was on the TV. The attacks.'

'That's terrible stuff, that...' she shakes her head. 'Why would people do this? Then again, Mackelmore's always been quite a dodgy town I guess. I carry a little something with me all the time, you know...'

You glance at her belt and see the can of mace. 'Nice, nice. But you look tough anyways. That piercing's gotta hurt, for example.'

You eventually wind your way into finding out her name - Isabelle. Or Issy. That's nice. Turns out she lives in the same estate as you, too... the bill comes up to less than $15. Good stuff.

> Get or do anything else before going back to school? The suitcase is still not opened. You do have the code.
> Also, you're a little hungry, after your breakfast was interrupted by the Cunts.

>>28524378
>Head straight back to school.

>>28524378

Buy some lunch, head back to school. Something meaty.

>>28524378
>>28524406
This. We're pretty much out of hands to carry food.
>>28524224
Point of consideration, we've been bloody a fair amount as well.

>>28524378

Head back to school, open it up on the 4th floor.

>>28524471
>>28524406
>>28524532

Damnit - your hands are full, and your pocket is almost empty, by the time you stagger back to the bus stop and then into the bus. But your stomach is growling and almost palpably twisting around, as if to wring itself out and remind you that it's around and needs filling. Yeah, yeah, you get the message!

You'll go back, offload the stuff, and then rush out and get lunch. No, wait, you'll have to sit Elina down and talk to her properly... you'll have to go back, offload the stuff, then talk to her, and then go out and get lunch. But then how long would that take? You should've gotten a kebab or something maybe when you were on the way. Now, since most of the shops near school close on the weekends when their biggest source of income is closed, you're not likely to get much out of there.

Even slipping in through the gate is difficult, seeing as you have to manoeuvre the suitcase and music box in, and SHIT OH SHIT YOU BUMPED THE LOCK ON THE MUSIC BOX. Thankfully it doesn't seem to be damaged. Okay. Phew.

> cont'd.

>>28524628

The track and fielders are still there, completely heedless of the continuing drizzle, but as you take a detour to go around them, your escape plan falls flat while attempting to sneak through a stairway and around the main block. Taking a left turn and then following a covered walkway, you end up running straight into the basketball guys and freeze like a prey animal in headlights.

Basketball - those guys don't normally seek you out to give trouble, of course, they've got better things to do. (Though you're not sure 'better' is the right word.) But some of them do know about you, and they have victimised you before, for example once unanimously nominating you to be their basketball team mascot in a dunk to dunk the duck funfair stand. You got dunked several times, and then it turns out some of them peed into the water.

Well, what you drink comes out of you eventually, right...

Today looks to be one of the invisible days, however. You quickly dodge to one side, sensing already that they're otherwise engaged. 'Where's Hugh? Where'd he go?'

'If I know, he'd be somewhere in the auditorium doing that netball chick like two rabbits...'

As you go up the stairs, your hunger is only worsened by the smell of food from the music and dancing practice rooms. They must have called in caterers for the weekends, those big societies. But the smell doesn't fade when you get to the fourth floor, and as you peek into the Hist room, you see why.

Elina is sitting on a chair in the middle of a swept, much tidied room, and on a desk (where's that from) is a whole metal container of food. How the hell did she get that?! She looks up at you. 'Stan, I got you-'

Then, seeing the suitcase and the music box, she stops.

> What do/say, Stan? It's a catering tray filled with sweet and sour pork...

>>28524723
>Give her the stuff
>Eat some food

>>28524723
"Hey Elina, I brought you some clothes and a present."

>>28524802
>>28524759

You stare at the food in the same way as she stares at the music box and suitcase. Okay, maybe a bit less intense, but... come think of it, you bought the music box partly to test if she'd recognise it, didn't you?

Looks like you might have your answer.

'Hey, Elina. Is that for me?' Of course it is, Stan, do you think she can eat that? Sitting down, you notice there's also a baguette next to it. 'How on earth did you get this? I got you some clothes, and your suitcase...'

She puts the clothes on her knee and then grabs the suitcase. 'You didn't open it?'

'No... it's yours, right? You do it.'

She rewards your honesty with a little smile, and then turns aside a little to open the suitcase while you scoop up some sweet and sour pork. Oh god that hit the spot, that really did! Though it's a little silly of her to give you bread with this, but you're too hungry to care. Midway through a mouthful, there is a click, and then Elina gasps and you look over her shoulder.

... those look like... music. Sheet music, pages and pages and books in some cases. The whole box is full of them - Elina flips through the stack, her fingers moving quickly, and then finally she puts everything down and sighs in relief. 'They're all here...'

'All here? Is that music?'

'Piano music, Stan.' She turns back to you and smiles. 'You've got sauce all over your mouth.'

'Sorry... so you play the piano? Because I got you this.' You consider laying the trap, but then end up laying it unwittingly. 'I can't remember how to open it, let me...'

'I know how to open it, Stan.' Elina's voice is muted, serious. Almost stern. She takes the box and begins working at it, slowly. 'And... and you must know that I know as well. Right, Stan?'

Damn. So it... so it was her, in Da's town. The girl who visited the antique raider...

> What do/say now, Stan? Oh this is really good food.
> Ask freely.

>>28524887
Ask her about the rich guy. Tell her what you heard from the antiques dealer.

>>28524887
Ask where she got the food. Then ask her about the war profiteerer - did she know anything about the corpses found in the basement of the mansion? Also, why are the sheets of music important?

>>28524887
My sister died around there, you know.

>>28524887
"I was kinda hoping you wouldn't know, actually. Lots of questions follow behind that...can I ask without upsetting you again?" Then start the questions. Unless she gets mad, in which case, tell her that we will have to ask them eventually, but we're willing to wait for a bit.

>>28524944
>>28524933
>>28524911

Well, no - Cath didn't actually disappear around there, neither was her foot found there. It wasn't too far away, though, and after all you wouldn't know, what with transportation, if she might have been ferried somewhere... abused... killed...

No, stop it. You need to stay focused. You've had enough nightmares about Cath, Stan, and now you need to be *here*. Elina's *here*. And seeing how careful she normally is with her words, the fact that she acknowledges the music box even without you asking seems to imply she's open to questioning.

But it doesn't hurt to make sure, so you smile a little, munching on the bread. 'Well, to be honest, I was hoping you wouldn't know... I kind of... I have some questions I'd like to ask you. But if you're going to be upset, then I'm fine for now still. If you think you're not ready to tell me. Or I'm not ready to know.'

Elina's replying gaze flickers like candlelight - bright in itself, but hinting at the darkness all around it, inside her. Then she looks at the clothes you bought her. 'May I change into these first?'

'Oh, of course.' You turn around, out of politeness, but as the clothes slop on the floor, you can't help sneaking a peek. Her legs are skinny and pale and lithe, the muscles visible. They don't look that athletic, but they're cute. You turn around again, sensing she knows.

'You can see, if you want,' she says. Oh dude, Elina...

'I-I'm okay.'

> cont'd.

>>28525088

Elina looks both a lot more comfortable, and a lot more... congruous, with the clothes. You realise, a little belatedly, that the t-shirt you bought for her is a Batman shirt, black with the yellow logo on it. She sits down, slowly, her reluctance showing, and then her hands are on her knees as she turns to you while staring at the floor. 'Okay... you can ask me now.'

You don't start with asking, though - instead you tell her about the story that the antiques dealer told you. The music box. The war profiteer, a monster in his own way. His reclusive years. Then... then the girl. You study Elina's reaction, but she holds perfectly still, cradling the music box in her lap, looking down as if in guilt. The men coming in and out. Then the houseowner's horrific death, and finally, the secret in his basement. Wine gone, bones instead.

When you stop, the air itself seems to have become thick and cold with the terror of what you described, the heat of the catering tray no longer so comforting, the aroma of food blunted. She hasn't budged.

'Yeah,' she finally says, after a long while. 'I know.'

'So... the war profiteer... did you know him? I mean... okay, there's no easy way to ask this, right, but-'

'Yes. I am the girl. I was the girl.'

> cont'd.

>>28525244

She says it, still holding very still, but the colour has drained from her face even more. Each word lands on your ears like a punch. It takes you a long time, listening to the suddenly roar-like drizzle outside, the suddenly furious wind, before you muster the words again.

'How about... those bones? And the war profiteer?'

'His name is Michael, Stan. I killed him.' Now she shudders at that last phrase, as if your question was pummelling her, even more painfully than when you actually pummelled her. 'And the bones. Men with certain interests. Mike lured them in. And I killed them.'

'Mike lured them in?'

'Okay. I lured them in.' Elina seems to implode at that, curling in on herself. 'I did it. I was hungry. I needed it. I still do. I can't help it, Stan. I can't help it. There's nothing I can do about this. I can... maybe I can be nicer to one person... maybe I can choose to eat only bad people. But I can't not-'

You place a hand on her thin shoulder and sidle up, but she gently takes your hand and wraps it in hers, on the music box. You feel... like you're falling through water. Cold, and vast, and endless, and there's nothing you can do to arrest the fall. But yet you're safe, you're not drowning. You can fall forever if you want.

Disembodied, your voice even sounds weird to you when you ask the second question.

'Where'd you get this food, then?'

'What?' Elina starts violently, then looks at the tray. The heating candle's gone out. 'Oh. Food. This. I took it from the van. Do you think $50 is enough to pay for it?'

She what?

> What do/say, Stan?

>>28525279
"Yeah, $50 is probably enough."

Tell her what Lars is up to.

>>28525279
Ask her about the importance of the music box/piano sheet music.

>>28525279
Also, ask why she wasn't surprised when we told her about Fenton's owner stalking her in a really weird sexual way.

>>28525339
>>28525431
>>28525445

> Next thread probably on Friday or Saturday.
> Have a good Thanksgiving for the US people.

'Uh... yeah, fifty is probably enough. Might be a bit too much actually. Why?'

'I left it in the van when I took this,' she murmured, and after the gloom of her admission, you don't know how to react. A man-eating beast who has murdered countless people is insistent on paying for something she nicks... you... this... 'What's wrong?' Elina says, glancing at you.

'No, nothing.' Nothing except, well, for a lot of things. 'Um... so... does this have anything to do with why you're not surprised that the guy... like, Fenton's owner... that he's stalking you? Like, you kind of just seemed to shrug it off and say that you know.'

'Why should I be surprised? That guy is always weird.' She looks down at the music box again. 'Anyway, if he finds me, you know what will happen now...'

Unsavoury as the thought of that crazed man is, the thought of him being murdered and eaten, well... you fight back the natural, instinctive horror with a gulp. 'Well, will you do that with Lars as well? Because he's after you. He's... left a note and attacked two girls, and kidnapped one of them, and, yeah. I think he's after you.'

'He is. He was really angry when I broke it off with him on Friday. He said... he's one of the reasons I wanted you to stay away, Stan. I didn't know what he would do. I didn't even think of what he *did* do...'

'Um, and how about the suitcase and the music? And the music box?' You sidle a little closer now, taking a little risk. Well, how much more risk could you be taking at this point, eh... 'is that some sort of... code, or record, or...'

'What?' Elina's eyes are round and wide, looking at you, and you imagine them streaked and spotted with blood for a single moment. Then she shakes her head vigorously. 'No. No! I... just like the piano. I love playing the piano. And I love Chopin... so...'

Oh... right.

> Actions, Stan?

>>28525602
Run away from the monster girl. If there is any point in time to reconsider a relationship with someone, it's right after they confess to needing to eat people to stay alive.

>>28525602

Give Elina a hug.

'There's a piano downstairs, you know?'

>>28525602
Show her to the music room, and get her to play something if it's free. After, we will discuss what to do about Lars.
>>28525671
You clearly do not understand the point of this quest.

>>28525602

Why'd you get rid of the music box then?

>>28525671
>>28525699
>>28525727
>>28525791

> 1 or 2 more posts before I'm dong for tonight.

Is that an affirmation of humanity on Elina's part? Of some... element of humanity? She's a monster who also likes piano music and loves to play the piano?

You miss the momentary opportunity and Elina slips away from you. Continuing to eat some of the cooling sweet and sour pork, you watch her take the sheet music out from the suitcase and stack the papers, neatly and carefully, on her desk. Every now and then, she takes a sheet of paper and you see the flicker of a smile, that same sweet smile she flashed when you said you'd make steak for her.

You're only sitting still because the balance of forces in your mind can't pull you either this way or that. Is there such a thing as a person who's not afraid of death? No, of course there isn't. You're frightened about it like fuck. And right in front of you is something who routinely dishes out death to people. She doesn't even do it because of anything. She *has* to. It's not something she can control.

But then at the same time, the urge to hold her from behind is almost overwhelming. It's as if the power of your mind and heart counterbalances the urge to survive that's kept humanity alive all these centuries. And the two are kind of in balance now. You can't move forward; you can't move away.

> cont'd.

>>28525934

Well, it's business as usual for you then. You've never been much help even to yourself, right, Stan? Should you be angry at Elina for lying to you? But you don't quite feel like that anymore, even. Lars might be right, or half right. But then what? You like Elina.

'You know...' the words finally negotiate that balance and come out of you, 'there's a piano downstairs.'

'What, really?' She wheels around, eyes glinting with sudden excitement. 'Where?'

'Students' lounge. People rarely use it. But you can, if it's free.'

'So... I have to pay, that means?'

'No, as in, if there's no one there.' You gaze at her nodding in comprehension. 'Elina, why did you get rid of the music box? I mean, you liked it, but I heard that you gave it back. That's where I got it from.'

She sits up straight at that. Then puts the box and the suitcase away, and turns to you.

'There's another one like me around in the city right now, Stan. She's hunting me.'

> What do/say, Stan?

>>28525943

"Who is this? Why is she hunting you?"

>>28525943
Who and why? Is there any way I can help?

>>28525943
This >>28526068
And ask if that's what happened to her room. Also find out what can be done.

>>28526068
>>28526111
>>28526123

'Another one like you?'

'Yes. I mean, another one who...'

'Who eats people.' Your forthrightness makes her flinch, like a rebuked child. But in the end, quite meekly, she nods. 'Who is this? And why would she hunt you? I thought you just hunted people. Is she... trying to eat you?'

'No. And don't...'

You know what she's about to ask you to do, but for a moment you're unsure about whether to continue being blunt, even aggressive. In the end you just end up nodding. 'Yeah, okay. But why?'

'Her name is Natalia,' Elina says, hands returning to the music box. 'She is old. Quite a lot older than me. And... even before she became a monster, she already liked to make people... hurt. She liked to hurt people. Then she changed. And because now, making people hurt is no longer special for her...'

You shudder as familiar feelings flood back into you. 'So she goes after others like her. Such as you. Is that what happens?'

> cont'd.

>>28526213

Slowly, Elina nods.

Dear god, she's been... she's being bullied. Just like you. Even though she's nothing like you, or so you'd like to think. 'Is that what happened in your room? I mean, I went in there and everything was smashed, and then your room... it had like a big dent in the wall.'

'She attacked me in the morning. I don't know if Lars might have... no, he couldn't have if he's still alive. Or maybe he isn't, anymore. But Natalia found me, smelled me, and attacked. We had a big fight. She used a certain weapon-'

'This?'

You dig out the little shard of obsidian, and then quickly put it back, a little guiltily, when she starts in fear. 'Yes, that. If you cut us with a tool made of that black glass, we can't... close it easily.'

'Shit. Is there anything I can do, then?'

She looks at you, guilty herself. 'We've... been doing this for a long time. I don't think you can do a lot. I just hope... I'm not afraid of Lars, Stan. He is merely human. But Natalia...'

You sit back a little. Merely human. Well, so are you...

> Comfort Elina.
> Keep your distance now that you know the truth. This could be dangerous for you.
> Other.

>>28526224
>> Comfort Elina.

Too late to quit now.

>>28526445
Seconding.

>>28526224
>Comfort Elina

>>28526445
>>28526518
>>28526605

> Last post for today. Thanks for playing!

The news is grim. Now that you know what Elina is - and that you've seen some of her powers and abilities - the idea that there's someone even she is scared of... and it's pretty clear she's scared, just by the way Elina mentions the name. Natalia. It's a nice name. Unlike Gerald. But you have different opinions, clearly.

In the end you do the only thing that occurs to you in the face of such grim news. You remember when the news came that Cath was missing, and the screaming and wailing and crying got so bad that you simply locked yourself in the room and tried to laugh. It worked a bit too well; they heard you from outside. Maybe that's when everything started - when you learned to laugh at a fucking disaster.

'So... even you have got your bullies, eh?' You chuckle, and Elina gives you a look. But not a surprised or shocked look, just curious at your reaction. The roundness of her eyes, her prominent nose, and the wildness of her hair just makes you a little happier, a little more jovial, and you start laughing louder. 'Oh man, oh man... I thought only someone at the bottom like me gets shat on, but...'

'You should laugh softer, Stan. People can hear.'

Oh. That's a good point, actually. Clamming it up, you scratch your head. There's nothing left to do now. Going up to Elina, you nudge her to her feet and hug her properly, cheek pressing against cheek, arms wrapped around her slim, delicate form. You don't care. You simply don't care now.

> cont'd.

>>28526677

Neither of you wants to loosen your embrace, so you simply start wandering around the room like you're waltzing, except your arms are locked around each other. The warmth of Elina's breath against your neck, the low, little humming sound she makes... the lack of that terrible groaning sound that you now know is *truly* terrible, that you're afraid of for a reason.

'Have I ever told you that you smell like oranges and rosewater?' You mutter. She shakes her head, tickling you a little.

'Do you not get nightmares when you look into my eyes, Stan?'

Nightmares? Well... there's dreams of blood... come think of it, Elina is always with those dreams of blood. Maybe it's a primal reaction to a predator, some way to imprint them into memory and know what to avoid always. What does it say about you that you're drawn towards it?

'I have dreams of blood. But they're not really nightmares. Sometimes they go well, even.'

'How does the food taste? It smells really acidic.'

'It's sweet and sour. Chinese food. It's really nice.' You take a risk, pucker your lips and brush them lightly against her cheek. Elina's arms tighten fleetingly. 'Thanks for the lunch.'

'Thanks for not... hating me. Or being angry at me.'

> cont'd.

>>28526765

You continue to make small, slow, awkward talk, inside and outside of an embrace, for what feels like just half an hour or so, until you check your watch and realise it's already 6.30. The sky outside is already darkening, but Elina seems to be even more active, which kind of makes sense. She's probably nocturnal... maybe she'd be sleeping if not for you.

'Are you tired?' She asks when you yawn. 'Are you... bored?'

'No, neither... but there is nothing to do up here though. Maybe if we stole a TV and I brought my Funstation here...'

'That'd be nice. Or... do you want some piano music?' She grins at you. You think about going home. Mom hasn't messaged you; maybe she's not home or just angry or something. Elina tweaks the music box once, and then it springs open and begins playing the sweet, gentle tune. 'I know how to play this one.'

'Do you have the score?'

'No, this one I can play from memory. It's one of my favourite pieces. Is school always so quiet? Will they find me if it gets noisier? What will they do then? I won't get you into trouble, will I? I won't tell them anything...'

> What do/say, Stan?

>>28526779
I'd love to hear you play, Elina.