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

[ebeje]

Max isn't a fighter; she does not put any more stock in the sort of scars you can see than those you cannot, wonders even if there is something simpler in being able to watch a thing heal, much as she rebels against the idea of letting anything leave a mark on her she can't undo. Nonetheless, these ones tell as much of a story, and Max eyes the lines of them like those of a book.

(--Seems to find the prose a touch overdone, but what can you do.)

"And did you win?" Her war.

(Max's is here; this.)