jinglehells | Trial 2

Trial 2

WHO KILLED CHRISTMAS?

Four hours pass yet again. Thug Dangerzone and Brasco move all the tables together (with no help from Starshine), and once again the dining room becomes a makeshift trial center. Poor Diana's body is carefully laid out on one of the tables. She's covered by a sheet, because frankly her corpse looks a little nauseating, but she's there if anyone needs to look at her.

On each spot at the table is a some cookies and apple cider, and that basket sits remains cheery and present at the center of the tavle. Next to the food is a pen and a small notebook, like the kind they use on police procedural.

After everyone is seated, or at least standing awkwardly around, Brasco stands up on a chair. "I gotta say, I'm pretty disappointed in you all," he says, and you get the sense he honestly means it. "This is way, way more murders than we wanted here! By a significant margin! But at least justice can be served a little. Me and Princess and Thug were looking around some after you guys finished, and we narrowed it down to five different suspects. So figure it out! You've got all day. Go vote when you're sure, and remember: this isn't a joke. Make sure you get it right. When we've got a majority vote, or when it gets too late, we'll decide.

Ready? Start!"

19 GUESTS REMAIN

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As you wish.

[So off he heads to room four. Presuming that he can tell a shirt that's supposed to be Rosalind's from her very male roommate's - does he find her shirt, and is it damaged at all?]

[Alas, he does not find a shirt at all! Though good luck finding anything in that hideous present room, there's a lot of wrapping paper to sort through. But no, no shirt at all.]

[...Interesting. Next stop is room 10, occupied by Jack and 17, also both dudes. Is there a lady's shirt in here?]

[Sadly, no. No signs of Rosalind at all, actually.]

[Huh.

Kantera returns without a shirt in hand.]

Miss Rosalind, your room has no shirts in it. Furthermore, I took the liberty of checking Jack's room, which also does not contain a woman's shirt.

Would you care to explain where your clothing has gone?

Edited 2017-12-30 20:18 (UTC)

It's not-- what do you mean, it's not in my room?

I mean that I searched your room and found not a single shirt within. Precisely what I said.

Yes, thank you, that was an expression of disbelief, not an actual question. I haven't the faintest idea why you didn't find it, it ought to be in there.

...I do have another question, for as long as I have your attention.

Who is 'Robert' to you?

[He might as well have pressed an electric wire to her spine; Rosalind stiffens, her expression going from indignant and confused to horrified.

But that's just for a split second. It's likely no one but him sees it. In the next moment she's forced her expression back to cold and neutral.]

Who gave you that name?

[Isn't that an interesting reaction. All the more so for how quickly it's hidden.]

The guestbook did. Surely you have taken a look at your own profile? "All I want for Christmas is to go home to Robert."

[Of course she had, but it's hard to remember when you're on trial for murder. And truthfully, Robert is so vital a part of her that she wouldn't be surprised if she'd mentioned him off-hand and simply forgot.]

He is . . . he's my other half.

[What an odd phrasing. All the more so for how carefully she seems to choose it.]

I see.

[Kantera is quiet, thoughtful.]

I can imagine why "he" would be considered a suitable replacement for you, in that case.

No.

[Swiftly, terribly, harshly, and yet pitched low enough that the others will have to be close to hear it.]

He isn't. Not in the least. He's far better than me, and far less suited for a place like this.

You would do quite a number of things to keep him from being brought here, perhaps killed here. Am I wrong in believing so?

[A deep breath, then, and though none of the tension coursing through her leaves her, something settles in her expression.]

There is nothing I wouldn't do in order to keep him from harm.

["Not a single person would miss me back home, and I wouldn't care if any of them ended up here instead of me."

Thank you, Hans. It all makes sense. As soon as he hears Rosalind's voice speak those words, Shintaro lunges forward angrily, slamming his palms onto the table.]

You killed her!

Yes.

[Perhaps it infuriates him how bloody calm she looks. Rosalind is by no means relaxed or happy, but she certainly doesn't look regretful.]

Quickly, if it's any consolation to you.

I don't fucking care how it happened!

You...You selfish....

[Indeed, her lack of reaction makes his stomach turn. Diana died for what? So this disgusting woman could get caught red handed anyway? He grabs the bloody, ashy cloth and throws it at her in a fit of distressed anger.]

Take your fucking shirt back!

She would never have hurt anyone!