EVENT: TRUTH BOMB

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: TRUTH BOMB
WHEN: Bloomingtide 15-17
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC information. Use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines, please.

It’s an ordinary day—so not a very pleasant one. The weather is dreary and muggy, and the day’s lunch is a soup that’s a little too watery and bland. The griffons are being their usual level of noisy and swoopy. The work is its usual level of urgent and difficult.

But in the storage rooms, something wiggles. Then it hums. Then it pops.

Outside of the storage room, there’s no actual sound, no shift in the wind, and no visible sign of a change. But the pop might be felt—like the moment something finally clicks, or two ideas suddenly fit together, except the opposite. In the heads of everyone in the fortress, something is suddenly not connected quite right.

The first sign of what’s gone wrong is that someone immediately stands up and tells the cook how bad the soup is.

A lot of people’s days are about to get exponentially worse.

Comments

[inkindled]

"I don't give a shit about eels," or that's what Matthias intends to say, in full glower. Instead he says, "I hate eels," which is the truth of it, "and deep water, I hate it as well--which is why it obviously means something, if I'm willing to jump in and swim for it--"

Sullenly, he grabs at the bottom of his shirt and twitches it, trying to shake some of the water from it. This method might be more effective if he wasn't completely and utterly soaked through. There's enough water on him to fill a wash basin. Stray droplets spatter the paving stones and also Benedict.

"You're seriously all right with just waiting about for someone to fix the problem for you?"

[altusimperius]

"It means you're a fool," Benedict offers helpfully, sneering a little at the sight of the sodden lad. He steps back to avoid getting water on his shoes, but raises his eyebrows inquisitively to the following question.

"Oh, I-- yes. Yes, I am."

[inkindled]

"Now, that's foolish. You're foolish. And lazy. Probably wouldn't know where to start with fixing this or any other problem, even if you weren't lazy, 'cos no one's ever actually asked you to help--"

This is not really much different than what he'd say under normal circumstances. Matthias repeats the twitching movement with his shirt. This time, it's more deliberate.

[altusimperius]

"Stop it," sneers Benedict, stepping back away from the boy when he flicks him with water again, "I'm none of those things, I'm just also not an idiot who races into situations he knows nothing about. ...like deep water." A snide little smirk, and he tosses his head, turning to take his leave.

"Have fun."

[inkindled]

"Oh, all right--prick," Matthias offers instead, "if you like that better--"

And even as Benedict is turning away, he's flicking more water at him, obnoxious. This time he tries aiming high, shoulders, hair--hair would be best, he's got nice hair, such a shame to see it all damp--

[altusimperius]

A prim little wave over his shoulder is Benedict's answer as he walks away. Children.