ROLE - PATIENT ZERO

[maladied]

pATiEnT ZErO.

the illness... the Deaths. iT's aLL yOUr FauLT. eVERytHINg iS—

THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! IT's ALL because Of YOU! How could YOU do this to US!? YOU ARE TO BLAME FOR EVERYTHING!!

...our blood will stain your hands.

NOTES:
- This is NOT a secret role, however it is EXTREMELY in your best interest to NOT make it public or be found.
- At the beginning of every new week you will receive a "memory" or "flashback" of previous victims. This will continue should you die.

♡

Comments

WK 0

[maladied]

gunsmoke.

It's hot. So hot. Your skill feels like it's burning. Melting. Suffocating.

You're used to the heat from the suns beaming down on you; you've lived your entire life not knowing anything else, but, for some reason, today the heat feels unbearable. You can feel the wind blowing past you as you soar through the sky on a ship above everyone else on this sorry planet, but it doesn't provide any relief.

There's a heaviness in your chest—in your mind, on your soul—that is a familiar as the cross you carry, but today it also feels unbearable. It reminds you of when things had just began... Between it and the heat, it almost feels impossible to breath, but you manage just as you always have. This planet isn't kind enough to those who show weakness, however—

[necromants]

[It takes longer than it should to remember who he is and where he is after that sudden flash. It was a memory, yes, but it's hard to say if it was his own. He's never had flashes of memories like this before - and he's had seven years of struggling to regain those memories lost to him. So if this is his, it's strange that it would happen now. Stranger still that it depicts something seemingly impossible in Aelios—

(But not so impossible in his dreams, is it?)

—Zvei shakes his head and tries to put the thought out of his mind. Just a strange thought, nothing more.

The unease that settles over him doesn't leave as easily as it usually does, though.]

W1

[maladied]

TO MOVE LIKE WATER

Tomorrow your older sister was supposed to be wed. Your beloved and kind older sister. Your sister who told you to be brave and be quiet as she shoved you into a closet to protect you. Who did she protect you from? You don't really know, but you remember horrible sounds. You remember the sounds of something attacking her. Viciously and unhuman. You remember pounding on the door that she had backed into to prevent whatever was attacking her from getting to you.

You remember how suddenly quiet everything got. You remember blood and what was left of something that was once your older sister.

Tomorrow your older sister was to be wed, but tonight your sister is dead. Tonight your whole family is dead and no one will believe you as to what happened. Demons? Demons don't exist, they tell you, but you know what happened. Even if they call you insane for it, you know what you saw.

The maroon you wear is because of her. You don't have much of her left but you have this color and you can wrap yourself up in it and remember her that way. You'll be brave for her. You'll live because this is the life that she gave you.

[necromants]

[Another memory. Another memory that can't be his own, because demons like that don't exist. He's a demon, a deimori, and they certainly don't attack people like that.

The maroon looks all too familiar, too.]

Giyuu's memory...?

[But how? Why? The first time was a fluke, but a second? A second time with someone he can clearly connect it to? That's not something he can easily dismiss. It's unsettling. What does it mean? What can he do about it?

Nothing, for now, he supposes. But for once in his miserable life, Zvei can't help but feel on edge.]

W2

[maladied]

a poisonous kiss.

You lie in a sick bay, where giant crackers stand in place of walls and various medicinal supplies line the shelves of hollowed out bread. The cloying scent of candy rises from the bed fitted with pink striped sheets, and the pillow that props you upright resembles an oversized wrapper. As if you've been transported to a world of sweets, the metal pole from which two bags of fluid hang and drain into your bandaged leg stands out as to be oddly ordinary.

Near the foot of your bed is a blond man with a curled eyebrow. Your attention rests on him as he takes another long drag on his cigarette, the golden bracelets around his wrists glinting in the room's artificial light. Despite the harsh set of your brow and tone of your voice as you wind down from your impassioned speech, your feelings toward him are nothing but fond.

"It's exactly what we deserve," you say. "We're a band of murderers!"

"Don't get me wrong," says the blond man, leaning forward in visible distress. "I have nothing but hatred for them, but why you? Why do you have to die?!"

"I still have my emotions, but Father had me augmented into an accomplice who cannot disobey his orders." You lift your chin as your gaze rises to a nondescript spot where the wall meets the high ceiling, utterly calm in the face of your imminent demise. "My hands are stained with blood . . . I deserve death."

[necromants]

[Another memory, another baffling experience that isn't his own. This one's strange and it takes him a moment to place it - but that man has a feature similar to Reiju's, right? Their unique eyebrows. Given the fondness, he can only assume that this was her memory.

Much of it doesn't make sense. But there's a part that echoes around in his head, even as the memory leaves him...

It's exactly what we deserve. We're a band of murderers!

The concept of "deserving" death for something you've done is already a bit of a foreign one, but... Hmm. A thing to consider later, he supposes. (Or never, ideally.)

More pressing is why her memory. Why now? She isn't dead, as far as he knows. The only person who died was—

Ah.

Zvei can't help himself; he laughs. He laughs, and laughs, and is seemingly unable to stop because it's so damn funny that after everything this is how it ended. But eventually he has to pull himself together; he has to get moving.

Who knows what the next set of memories may hold, after all.]

W3

[maladied]

sweet like candy.

You lean against the wall, the sweet, artificial taste of candy coating your tongue and your smile as you open your mouth to speak.

"It's rare for you to come all the way out here ☆. " You look straightforward rather than at the woman next to you, out of forced habit. She's dressed in the uniform of the Party of Words, an oversized coat draped loosely over her shoulders. It shapes her silhouette, making her movements more predatory, like a bird of prey.

"I had an opportunity to do so. Now, what was the final result?" Her words are sharp and to the point, icier than the arctic.

"Aha, pretty good, pretty good! But that's cause the other mes did their jobs well. Now all I have to do is make 'em be my buddies." You turn to her, knowing she will never turn to you, but you want to see her expression. Indifferent as always, not sparing you even the slightest glance.

"But y'know, coercive hypnotism is practically cheating, cause we can imprint anything we want on 'em. So? What kind of hypnosis did you put on Sasara Nurude and Kuukou Harai?" You say this all too cheerfully, even if it is business. But this is who you are, and these are things you do. You'd like to think you're good at them!

"We compelled them to loathe their partners. This effect of the brainwashing will last for a few months.

I will contact you the next time we have an update." With that said, she turns on her heels to leave. She always speaks with you for the absolute bare minimum. The fact that she came down to see you in person tonight, is a rare treat.

"Okey-dokey!" A rare treat—you raise your hand and wave her off with a big smile—tinged with poison. The smile on your face drops once she's gone and you stare out into the glittering cityscape below.

You hate her. You hate her with every cell in your body, but you must keep her pleased or she will dispose of you. You need to keep showing her that you're still a useful, good dog.

[necromants]

[...Ramuda's. It isn't Amaya's; he knows enough about Amaya's past to be able to tell, and the setting doesn't line up at all with what he knows. Besides, that disgusting, overly-sweet taste could only be Ramuda's.

Hatred is such an interesting emotion - not one he would have associated with Ramuda before this, either. Though given what he did to Amaya—

It doesn't matter. This is something to deal with later. He needs to find Amaya first. He can't do anything about what happened, but he can at least try to help her settle in here.]

W4

[maladied]

it's never enough.

"It's not your fault."

"People who don't understand should shut up before they make a fool out of themselves."

"Our beloved Mihyun-ee did so well like always. I'm so proud of our child."

"What are you even good for?"

"If it weren't for you, my brother wouldn't have died...!"

"Get ready to execute the Muse Connection. This time... this time for sure—"



"I wanted to be like you."

Your vision is hazy and senses assaulted. A cacophony of voices are there at all times, making you hear comments that were directed at you and not meant to be heard by you. It's difficult to walk straight. You haven't had much sleep lately and you keep "remembering" things that aren't your memories. You're tired. Sometimes you see images of blood that pour out of a body, viscera and all. You think it's Yuki, but the body warps to your childhood friend. Childhood friend that you wanted to protect. The childhood friend that you wanted to help—

"Don't leave me... please..."

You hear her cry and wipe away some tears of your own. You're sorry. You made things worse like you always do. Sorry. You're sorry. You're sorr▓

You collapse and claw the wall that you rest on. The paper lanterns sway. Do they mock you? You think you hear some giggling.

Someone like you, who could never amount to anything—

A thousand apologies would never be enough. No. Not for you.

i can't believe i forgot to respond to this

[necromants]

[It isn't Seymour's memory, which can only be a good thing. But given how little he knows of the other two, he's not sure which one it belongs to. Either way he feels... tired. Drained. Like maybe staying up nonstop since he died has finally caught up with him and all he wants to do is sleep.

But there's no time for that. He has to find Seymour.

...This is leading up toward something, isn't it? But what? What's the point of gaining someone else's memories?

...our blood will stain your hands.

Aren't they already stained enough? Is this truly his fault? Was Yuki's death and Lynne's corruption his fault? Is all of this somehow his doing?

He wants to write it off, because it sounds ridiculous. He didn't even do anything here. At least back home there's a reason to blame him. But maybe he truly was the first infected, and maybe it's spread through the others...

The unease is mounting. What comes next?]