[From the moment she woke up down here in this labyrinth with the others, Gavial has been fielding the persistent need for further victory like a song stuck in her head for too long. The itch to seek it out spurred her along these winding halls, into increasingly ridiculous rooms with increasingly ridiculous gimmicks to them. But they’re all still stuck down here, chasing the dangling carrot of a meaningful win with nothing concrete to show for their efforts thus far.
Because of it, there’s been a steady annoyance building over the course of who-knows-how-many days, souring her mood bit by bit. How she wins things isn’t through puzzles and trickery, in subterfuge and clever games. Give her something she can swing her fist at or tear through with her axe and she’ll stand victorious in no time. But there hasn’t been a whole lot of opportunity for that here yet, not unless she wants to risk things getting messy by throwing down with someone next chance she gets. And she would be lying if she didn’t say that she’s beginning to find that to be an increasingly enticing plan.
So she doesn’t think too much of it when she steps into yet another mysterious room and that urge just seems to skyrocket.
By the time the door swings open and a familiar young man stands peering into the room, Gavial’s made a mess of it. It’s almost like the place had been purposely filled with things just begging to be broken—scattered fragments of porcelain decorate the floor, various types of furniture rent into pieces, perhaps something almost oddly human-shaped slumped in one corner. It had all been an outlet for this frustrating need, but it wasn’t quite enough. This was all the equivalent of just empty calories, all the motion and bluster but none of the satisfaction of a challenge, of something fighting back. But—
Her gaze turns to the doorway, watching as Gen takes a halting step into the room with her. Knuckles torn and bloody, she reaches down to wrench her staff free from where it is lodged in a wooden panel of something that may have once been a dresser. She motions with it to the room at large.]
Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in.
[Guess the room of hunger really does deliver, doesn’t it?]
no subject
Because of it, there’s been a steady annoyance building over the course of who-knows-how-many days, souring her mood bit by bit. How she wins things isn’t through puzzles and trickery, in subterfuge and clever games. Give her something she can swing her fist at or tear through with her axe and she’ll stand victorious in no time. But there hasn’t been a whole lot of opportunity for that here yet, not unless she wants to risk things getting messy by throwing down with someone next chance she gets. And she would be lying if she didn’t say that she’s beginning to find that to be an increasingly enticing plan.
So she doesn’t think too much of it when she steps into yet another mysterious room and that urge just seems to skyrocket.
By the time the door swings open and a familiar young man stands peering into the room, Gavial’s made a mess of it. It’s almost like the place had been purposely filled with things just begging to be broken—scattered fragments of porcelain decorate the floor, various types of furniture rent into pieces, perhaps something almost oddly human-shaped slumped in one corner. It had all been an outlet for this frustrating need, but it wasn’t quite enough. This was all the equivalent of just empty calories, all the motion and bluster but none of the satisfaction of a challenge, of something fighting back. But—
Her gaze turns to the doorway, watching as Gen takes a halting step into the room with her. Knuckles torn and bloody, she reaches down to wrench her staff free from where it is lodged in a wooden panel of something that may have once been a dresser. She motions with it to the room at large.]
Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in.
[Guess the room of hunger really does deliver, doesn’t it?]