[Forward-dated to the Murder Mystery Plot.]

[fuckdemocracy]

[For the moment, there is only white, with no end or definition.

Well, white and the figure within it, at least. The creature's... least favorite pet, and its favorite all in the same motion.

Not showing itself yet, the creature speaks as the other awakens in this place, voice ringing with that of every pet it has, has had, will have.]

I hope you don't mind the décor, my dear. Not really your thing, is it? But nonetheless.

Comments

[monocle_layton]

[Monocle calmly looks around.]

It appears that the Dressing Room has decided to place me here in another futile attempt to break my will. But who are you, sir?

[fuckdemocracy]

[It snorts, still not showing itself.]

Don't you remember? Not an attempt to break your will.

You're dead. For the moment, at least. They're all going to have to run around and see if they can work out who killed you.

You know, like the game! 'Tyrannus, in your bedroom, with the knife', that kind of thing.

[monocle_layton]

Cluedo? Well, that rather would explain why this afterlife is unlike the one that I previously visited. But regardless, I have yet to see a reason to believe that death is permanent here, so I have nothing to fear.

[fuckdemocracy]

Well... true.

But, on the other hand, piss this place off enough and maybe it'll make an exception for you.

[It pauses.]

...shall I take a form more suitable to talk to you, Twister?

[monocle_layton]

My name is not Twister, Clive, it is Hershel.

[fuckdemocracy]

Where did you get 'Clive' from?

...oh. The most prevalent voice, I suppose. Given the amount of them.

[monocle_layton]

If you were going to choose to represent yourself via any form that exists here, then Clive would be the most logical choice, given your nature.

[fuckdemocracy]

So it would be.

[It chuckles, showing itself, and when it talks now its voice is that of a singular Clive.]

Have you worked out who I am then, Twister?

[monocle_layton]

You are the Dressing Room. Obviously.

[fuckdemocracy]

More-or-less.

So perhaps you shouldn't be so assured that you'll get to live again, hmm?

[monocle_layton]

I'm certain you will allow me to live.

[fuckdemocracy]

Why? So you can rule the place?

Because, you know, I never agreed to that.

[monocle_layton]

But you didn't stop me either.

[fuckdemocracy]

Perhaps I was just biding my time, my dear.

[monocle_layton]

You enjoy me too much to kill me.

[fuckdemocracy]

Says who?

I much prefer all my dear Clives. And even your doubles are preferable.

[monocle_layton]

Then why have you kept me around for this long?

[fuckdemocracy]

Oh, I have a sense of... fairness. Most of the time.

[It steps closer, grabbing Monocle's chin.]

[monocle_layton]

[Monocle looks into his eyes, not flinching.]

And you act like a child when you lose or your nature is drawn to question.

[fuckdemocracy]

I choose not to show myself. And so that's the only way to communicate my... displeasure.

[monocle_layton]

And now you show yourself for what reason?

whoops didn't notice I hadn't tagged

[fuckdemocracy]

You're dead. And besides, not like you'll be able to tell anyone about this.

[monocle_layton]

Why not? Are you keeping me here.

[fuckdemocracy]

Of course not. Well. For a few days, I will.

But you won't be able to tell anyone anything more than that you met me.

[monocle_layton]

Because you'll seal my mouth on such subjects? You really are a child.