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

[sarcophage]

Perhaps he'll see Leander's back by way of reflection, with a heavier shirt thrown over his bathing cover, and the relative haste with which he gathers his things, snatching up his towel and squeezing the sponge once more over the basin. Reacting facially to the primping ritual taking place across the room. Either way, observed or otherwise, Lea will have made his exit by the time Benedict turns around.

And he'll be wearing a half-suppressed smile all the way up to his room.

[altusimperius]

He does notice, and despite all the airs he's putting on, the sight of Leander's departing smirk is like a lance through Benedict's confidence. He looks back at himself in the mirror, deflating slightly now that there's no audience, and sigh through his nose.

Well, at least beauty is permanent.