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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 11 months

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One of Us is Guilty; Chapter 3

Three are now dead, but the killer seems to be caught ... but this night is not over until the room is found.

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Silver, Cater Diamond

Content; Unreliable narrators, murder mystery

Content Warning; Death, murder, blood, anxiety, kidnapping, overall dead dove content warnings

Word Count; 1.1 K

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Link to the Google Form to vote!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The body count had risen to three; Dire Crowley, the Ramshackle Prefect (whose blood still stained the floor, the iron scent permeating the air), and now, Divus Crewel as well, the latest victim. One minute the professor was alive, shaking from anger that one of his students was killed on his watch and that he was the prime suspect of the killings. But now he was sprawled out on the ground, killed in an instant.

The remaining students — Vil, Rook, Azul, Jade, Silver, and Cater — were silent, processing what exactly had just happened. The lights had flickered only for a minute, and in that minute, the killer had struck. But the silence was broken by a deafening clap of thunder, lightning illuminating the windows, and bringing everyone back to the present, to their laughably horrible situation that they had found themselves in by sheer chance and bad luck and timing.

Silver sat down on the staircase, and put his head in between his legs, taking deep breaths. Despite his training, he did not consider that he would be witnessing death so soon. The small part of his brain that had a sliver of hope that his friend had survived their gruesome injury, but he was just lying to himself; no one could survive that.

Vil was pacing, hands clasped behind his back, and he was muttering to himself. He thought he could read people, what with being raised amongst the stars that hid behind too-sweet smiles that belied venomous words. What was there to gain from any of this?

Rook was cracking his knuckles, and then rubbing his eyes, trying to think of why this was happening. While he could appreciate the hunt, this was something entirely different. Yet, it also reminded him of several books; one being a murder mystery, and the other about the deadliest game, of hunting a fellow person.

Azul was shaking and biting his nails, his resolve long gone. Had he made himself the enemy of one of his peers? Was he going to be next? He was supposed to just be perfecting a potion recipe for the next test, yet he found himself way above his head.

Jade looked at Azul, taking in that his house warden and friend was shaking more than the leaves outside in the howling wind. He too was disturbed by the night's events, sick to his stomach even, but he couldn’t show weakness, especially if he wanted to see it through.

And Cater? He was paler than a ghost, a cold sweat glistening on his forehead, and he felt like his heart was going to leap out of his throat. His cheery smile had left long ago, and now panic was fully starting to take control. Why? Why? Whywhywhy? WHY?! Yet he stayed silent.

No one spoke, but they eyed each other with caution. Every time that they had went to the mirror and they voted through it, someone died. Was it the mirror? No… no, that didn’t make sense… None of this made any sense though.

“No more votin-” Silver whispered.

Cater cracked his head around, green eyes judging every move the underclassman made. “And why’s that, Silver?” His voice was shaky, but Cater wasn’t trusting him or anyone for that matter. “Afraid that-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Vil barked, commanding everyone’s attention, eyes all on him. But he was used to eyes being on him, and he stayed cool, despite how this may damn him into being guilty in their eyes. He didn’t care at the moment though, all he cared about was no one else dying. “Look at what being suspicious of each other has brought us,” his eyes wandered to the dark clotted blood that had now gone cold. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat, keeping the calm mask up. “I agree with Silver though; voting through the mirror only ends up with someone… dead.”

“Then how do we proceed, Roi du Poison?” Rook asked, falling to his house warden’s side. His eyes looked over everyone, picking up their behaviours, emotions, and any tells.

Azul’s head snapped up. “The potion-” he started muttering to himself, before clearing his throat and gaining his composure again. “A truth potion, but one that shows the truth about the situation, we can use that to find the killer.”

Cater looked at Silver, and offered him his hand; a peace offering. Silver took it, and brought himself up on wobbly knees. A truce.

Jade placed his hand on Azul’s shoulder, offering him a bit of comfort that not everyone was out to get him. “Was that what you were working on?”

Azul nodded, and he started making his way towards the alchemy lab, where hopefully they could put an end to the killer’s little charade once and for all.

…

Vil helped Azul make the potion, and both students kept a keen eye on the other, but they made it without incident. And to show the others that they hadn’t tampered with it at all, they took it first, with the others shortly following suit.

“What about the room?” Silver asked.

“We can figure that out once we find the killer,” Jade countered.

Everyone looked at each other, taking in any minute details, but everyone was calm; the potion apparently did wonders to calm the nerves… but that in itself was a dangerous effect, since now everyone’s guards were down, making them easy targets.

Vil took in a breath and released it. “Who killed Dire Crowley? Why did you then kill the Prefect, and then Professor Crewel?”

But no one spoke up.

“It isn’t me,” Vil said confidently, hoping that his speaking up prompted the others to follow suit.

Cater was to his left, and he spoke next. “I didn’t do it.”

Then Silver, “Or me… I couldn’t do something like this…”

“I did not do it either,” Jade offered.

Azul’s eyes went wide, and he eyed the next person in line. “The killer isn’t me.”

All eyes fell on the last person left in their little circle; Rook. With all of them but him left, that only left him.

He let out a throaty, quiet, chuckle. “I suppose this game has run its course,” he tipped his hat to them, green eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. “As for why? Hmmm,” he hummed, and the hairs on everyone’s necks stood on end. There was something off about Rook, this wasn’t Rook.

“You’ll find that out when you guess the room.”

What?

Everyone took a step closer to each other, away from Rook, and they whispered amongst each other, voting on what room Crowley’s murder took place in.

“Alchemy lab,” Cater spoke for the group, trying to keep his resolve as Rook seemed to stare into the very contents of his soul, like he was searching for something.

Rook stepped forward, still smiling. “Ah, désolé Monsieur Magicam,” the whites of his eyes started turning black, “but you would be wrong.” The lights flickered again, and in the seconds of darkness, Rook was gone, and so was Cater.

GOOGLE FORM (voting will end Wednesday, October 18th at 9pm EST)

SUSPECTS:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show? (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard) MURDERER - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach) MISSING

ROOMS:

- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2) - Teachers’ lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab (eliminated in Chapter 3) - Library - Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)

WEAPON: MAGIC (found in Chapter 2)

…

To be continued

#dove does events #twst #twisted wonderland #twst murder mystery #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #twst silver #cater diamond #cw death #cw murder #cw blood #cw kidnapping #dead dove do not eat #oh you though it was going to be over once you found the killer? *evil laugh* oh my sweet readers no no it isn't #aka i remember the deadliest game plus i just watched the exorcist so yeah I'm tying those in #now if you don't mind me i'm going to cram those lessons in twst since i have 25 left until i can continue with the event

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cursedcola · 1 year

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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore(Here!), Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: May have overdone it. Also, I'm a bit rough with my french. It's been 2 years, go easy on me.

There is a word for this young man. A term that has always been a one-way thing in his past. A noun that he has experience being the target of, and not the one it is describing.

Whipped. Oh, dear heavens, Vil is whipped for you. The thought both entices him and sends a shiver of distaste down his spine. Why? Because, my dove, in recognizing that he is whipped he is also acknowledging that he is dependent. Reliant. No longer the boss a** queen who needs nobody other than himself. The man the world knows him to be but this schoolboy crush has progressed to borderline infatuation.

Let us do a little synopsis of this downfall. A summary, if you will. An exploration of this Schoenheit's thought process as his prospective future melded from being Twisted Wonderland's resident supernova, to a domestic fantasy that would make his past self vomit.

It all began with a little birdy falling into a nest of snakes. Lost, alone, scared, weak - they slowly melted the hearts of everyone they came in contact with. Vil watched from the sidelines in interest. Not enough to investigate because *why* would he place his time in the hands of prey. It would be an utter waste.

Albeit so...Vil recognizes potential when he sees it. Not unlike himself, they took the hand they were dealt and carved a path to the top. He could respect that ... until there was a collision that threatened his own plans. Suddenly their oddities were no longer amusing and instead a hindrance. Like rain. Nice at the start, but the muddy aftermath never pleases.

And muddy his life became indeed. He became the villain he always disliked. Wretched and old. Completed his self-fulfilling prophecy...and somehow lost it all, yet gained something new in such a short span of time. He was no hero in the story, had no life-changing epiphany, yet somehow it felt different. For a brief moment, he was the fairest of them all to that little birdy. Despite his venom and scales, he was the fairest.

It dawns him that they both are not as alike as he once thought. He was playing a game of chess against someone playing checkers.

The oddity turned hindrance now became an object of interest. He started to watch them again and to approach as well. He wanted to bloom the potential he saw in them. Letting it go to waste would be neglectful on his part, so he would shelter them during their time in this den.

Or so he told himself.

While they could never make it to his level...the little birdy was morphing into a beautiful dove right before his very eyes. All without his help or a need for change. He never felt so desperate to be needed by someone else.

The object of interest becomes an object of affection. He doesn't want to recommend new potions, fashion, workouts, skincare routines - he wants to do them with you. He wants to sit in a rosewater bath together and talk about the day. He wants to be chided for wearing a sleepmask, blocking your view of his eyes at night. He wants to go on a morning jog together and share breakfast. To have you on his arm as he walks the carpet at premiers - brighter than any other accessory his stylist could choose. He wants to kiss your pulse points and smell his perfume on your skin. He wants to share clothes and give the press something to gossip about. He wants to love this little birdy who has always been a dove.

And he gets this fantasy. He has it for years but there is always an underlying gnaw beneath his skin that it is going to end - which he is prepared for initially. He does not do anything half-effort and dating you is not taken lightly - but he is prepared until he does not want to be. Until the possibility of splitting up is unfathomable and he can't imagine not having all the little moments that now he has become so...

Reliant. Whipped.

He initially wants you to propose to him, and hints at it frequently. How glorious would he look dressed in white, no? Which do you like better, black forest cake or almond chip? Oh dear...these tulips would make such a lovely Boquete for a bride...

You are either too dense to understand his hints (unlikely, considering you have years of practice) or he needs to take initiative. Well, if it is a proposal you want then it is a proposal you will get.

He stages it under the guise that he needs a partner for a photoshoot. Specifically for a wedding magazine. You, thinking this is another one of his blatant hints, comply to his pleasure. He calls in a contact from one of the magazines he has modeled for before and asks if they would like an inclusive - never before seen- scoop. Aka. to photograph his proposal and feature it on their front cover. With his reputation, the offer is accepted readily and they agree to set up the shoot with whatever theme he wishes. He goes traditional - set in a gothic chapel that is decorated with red and purple floral adornments. The works for a proposal with a dark vintage twist.

That morning, he leaves before you to handle a separate modeling gig. With a kiss to your wrist, he is gone and off to make sure that everything is perfect for when you arrive later on. Photographers know him for his tenacity, but none have ever seen Vil so anal over small details. Every ribbon must be perfect, there must be both black AND white rose petals spread along the walkway. You must be photographed in rose-tinted lighting, so the camera should face towards the biggest piece of stained glass.

When you arrive, you are escorted to hair and makeup in a whirl. The scene is a blur and you're decked head to toe in white. Gothic lace as far as the eye can see...and when you are finally allowed to enter the chapel, Vil stands haloed by his arranged decorations - waiting for you to join him.

"Stunning, my dear. You look absolutely stunning. A sight I will have etched in my thoughts for many nights to come..." he takes your hand, and signals for the cameramen to get ready. They instruct you both to pose as a couple taking their vows. The camera clicks once, and then Vil gets down on one knee.

You think it's part of the act and that he is improvising. Well, until he pulls out a ring from his breast pocket. One that is a sharp contrast from the dark atmosphere and obviously not a prop.

"Alas, my patience runs dry. I can no longer wait for you..." he begins, and takes your hand in his. Another click echoes in the room, "with this ring, I make you mine. There will be no escape. No lies or uncertainties. I am already yours. I have been for many, many years. Will you finally join me in matrimony?"

{Black Opal. Staring into the gem puts any viewer in a trance. It sucks them in with bright swirls - hypnotizing. It is so beautiful with its intricate pattern, yet at a distance it appears solely black. We often narrow complex things down to one-note interpretations. Do with this information what you will}

Our man of mystery likes to keep things fresh. He loves the thrill of the chase. The anticipation. The adrenaline.

There is no better game of cat and mouse in life than romance. At every stage there are twists and turns that one can never predict. Each day brings new surprises and events! At least, that is what Rook believes a relationship should entail. No partnership should ever feel the lull of comfort...no-no. There must always be a little spice and sweetness around every corner to keep the relationship alive.

At your side, Rook does not doubt his beliefs for a second. You are like a magnet for attention and rightfully so. Out of all the people he finds interesting...you are the most tantalizing to observe. He finds himself following your every movement early on. Long before you began to enter his personal bubble, you were rare prey for the hunt. Otherworldly, full of secrets, attentive, attractive, enticing - he had his mark set so firm that he would have watched you even without Vil's order.

Nothing is missed under his fond scrutiny. Rook is the first to notice small things, like if you trimmed your hair or sewed new buttons on your blazer. He has your walking pace memorized to match when he is at your side. He knows your favorite meals in the dining hall, your habitual seat in the library, how to read your body language, what your favorite treats are and when you like to have them - his knowledge is so extensive that it's up to you if it is considered sweet or creepy. Rook's affections are often teetering the line with infatuation; however, he is not controlling or weird about it. He simply is a romantic who feels the need to know the ins and outs of the person he will give his heart to.

If that includes protecting you from ill-mannered heathens and appearing out of thin air to catch you if you trip? Well, best not question where he comes from. Just know that you have a second shadow. He will only become worse when his affections are returned. You may feel the need to set ground rules for how he can behave in public. Loud declarations of compliment and suggestive topics will not be reigned in otherwise. He is a lover and a fighter. Remember that.

There will come a day that Rook feels you are ready to marry him. Yes, specifically you. He was ready very early on, likely because pining for so long (while exciting) was a chase that gave him plenty of time to learn what he wants. Any time spent waiting was merely for your sake. Only when he notes your fondness towards the idea of marriage does he create a series of tests to ensure your desires. Things like leaving a wedding magazine on the counter to see your reaction, and taking you for a romantic boat ride that just so happens to be a hotspot for couples on their honeymoon. He also mentions the topic in his flirtations more often, to see if you'll respond in kind or shy away. He is a thorough man, if anything.

Oddly enough, he takes a reserved approach for proposing. He uses poetry, which is not unlike him considering how he loves to speak with flourishes. In his heart Rook would love to set up an elaborate event to propose. Something exciting, like a train mystery or a scavenger hunt. Yet some things do not need to be active to be thrilling. Marriage is a delicate act, so it is with a delicate hand that he pens a book of poetry over the course of nineteen days. On each day, he writes one poem to describe one reason he wants to marry you. The first letter in the title of each poem corresponds to a hidden message that you will have to decipher. He does not tell you either of these things.

He hands the book off to you with a cunning grin, and says that it is up to you to find the hidden meaning. If you can, then he will give you a 'special prize'. If you ask the occasion, he offers one of his closed-eye grins and claps his hands. 'Because why not?' He'll say, and it's enough to pacify because it is such a Rook way of thinking that you don't question it.

No matter how long it takes, he waits. He'll watch you analyze each poem and pout for an answer - one he refuses to give. It's all in the chase, after all. He can be patient. All good things come to those who wait.

One cold afternoon, he finds you curled up on the couch in your shared home. A blanket around your shoulders, a hot drink, and the book nestled in your lap. Nothing out of the usual...aside from the pen in your hand hovering over a notebook. Silent as a mouse, he hovers over your shoulder to take a peek and smirks at what has you so miffed.

"Ah...I take it you have words for me, mon coeur. Are they perhaps about a certain mystery?" You jump, and slam the notebook shut before turning around. His eyes crinkle in delight at the sight - his well waited prize. The flush of your cheeks suggest you solved the puzzle and the sweat on your brow shows that you know he knows. Rook rounds about the couch in an instant and crouches on his knees in front of you. He takes your notebook, opens it, and displays the words 'Will You Marry Me?' for you. "Is this your answer? Are you confident?" You nod, avoiding his eyes and he grabs your chin to face him. With a hum of approval, he tips off his hat to pull out a wooden box. In the box is a ring, and he effortlessly slips it onto your finger without asking permission. "Mon moitié...mon trésor. Je te chérirai. Je t'aimerai. Je ne te laisserai jamais partir. Avec cette bague, je suis à toi jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare…"

{A large pearl, nested between two emeralds, and a pure gold band. In Rook's eyes, the ring should compliment the wearer. It is the accent piece to your beauty. It should be comfortable, so you never have reason to remove it. In addition to this, it should also serve as a reminder that he is always looking for you. The pearl represents his untainted affection, and the two emeralds are his all-seeing eyes. He hopes this ring brings feelings of comfort and safety}

He is beauty, he is grace, he will punch you in the face - unless you're the object of his affections. Then you get a get out of jail free card. One use. Reinstated every time his heart skips a beat.

Our young lad is a bit of an unpredictable case when it comes to his emotions. Growing up in a small town like Harveston, there was no one his age to spend time with. NRC became his first exposure to people his age, and that made you his first love by default. He wasn't looking for it, didn't have any way to identify it, and frankly he disliked the emotions at first for various reasons. There is a lot to unpack here.

As everyone knows, Epel has a feminine appearance. The exact opposite of how he feels inside. The frilly clothes his dorm makes him wear do nothing to fix that - and now there is this tingling feeling in his chest that takes away his thought process? No. Just no. Not welcome at all. He needs his wits to make up for his unassuming appearance, and he ain't going to have some stranger twisting that about just because they're a bit attractive. Every apple tastes sweet until you try another kind - he says to himself.

He lets it fester for some time and actively avoids you. He sees the hurt in your eyes at his offput demeanor, but can't do much about it. It's your fault if you want to put yourself out there when everyone knows he's not the biggest talker.

Unfortunately...you stick around. Being in his academic year means that most of your classes align, and eventually your friend group does as well. There is no getting around you, and it doesn't take long for other people to connect the dots. Any chance at him getting a tougher reputation were ruined before they even began.

Eventually his resilience runs out and he gives in. Except now we have reason two - he has no chance with you. Zip. Nada. How Lovely.

Why the h*ll would ya go for this country bumpkin with the social skills of a rock? You'd be crazy to an' he ain't going to put himself out for heartbreak.

Now he's stuck humming love tunes and making carved apples of your face because he has years of pining built up with no outlet. It's pitiable, which makes him seethe because he can't do nothin' about it. Rook teased him once after finding Epel making yet another carving while laying in bed, and barely missed getting an apple to the head. The splattered remains of his fruit art on the wall spoke more than any threat could.

Point being, he is emotionally stunted and so he does not ever confess. Not until you do, that is. In that moment all class flew out of his body and he reverted to the socially challenged boy he was before enrolling at NRC. An extremely rare sight for anyone to see...he cringes thinking back on it. When you first said your feelings, he thought you were pulling a prank and got pissed. When he processed that you were serious, Epel lost control of himself and just blurted his thoughts out like a child.

Which is why his proposal is going to be different. It *has* to be different. This time, he'll be the one to ask you and he'll be prepared to avoid any mess ups. He refuses to be one-upped for such an important moment. This time you will be the flustered mess, and he will be the collected one.

To do this, he chooses to propose back in Harveston where he is most in his element. You'll both stay with his family on a weekend vacation in autumn, which meant there would be plenty of open land to arrange for something nice. Not to mention nice scenery from all the fallen leaves and orchards being in bloom. After a long talk with his family, he'd arrange to take you on a day tour of the land on horseback. Basically flaunt all of his farmboy knowledge for a confidence boost, and at the end of the night he'd light a campfire. With some warm cider, the noises of the night, and calm warmth of the hearth - he'd propose. It was almost perfect. *Almost*.

A simple ring feels too disconnected for Epel, and anything extravagant is too expensive considering the family farm's financial state. So, he decides to make it extra special by carving the ring box himself. Wood isn't that much different than apples...

On the first night he decides to work on some finishing touches after you've gone to sleep, and sits on the front porch to widdle away at the design. Like he does when carving apples, he hums a tune into the night as he focuses. Thoughts of the next day making him a bit louder and more excitable than usual - which, unfortunately wakes you up.

The front door opens and he pays it no heed, thinking it's one of his parents coming out for some fresh air. When you plop down next to him and look at the box - well, to say the earth shattered would be an understatement.

"Why aren't you sleepin'?!" His heart hammers and he tries to hide the box under one of his legs. The reaction being too late, since you already got a good look at it. You quirk an eyebrow at his haste, and a mischievous glint twists in your eye. Without warning, you fight him to see what's behind his back. 'What'cha got there Epel~ Why you so embarased huhu~' you tease and his ears flush a deep red. "It's nothin'! Mind your own buisness" 'Well clearly it's something' "I said it's not for you! Get your hands off me," 'Oh? I thought you liked my hands on you~ It looked like a ring box though. Who're you giving a ring to, huh?' "Dangit maybe you'd find out if ya stopped ruining your own surprises!" In his last attempt to avoid your teasing, he tries to yank away but drops the box. It hits the porch with a thud and the lid pops open to show an engagement ring. "...ah sh*t," he swears and hastily crouches to pick it up. You don't tear your eyes away from it, neither from the carvings or how your name is etched in perfect cursive on the lid. Still on his knee, Epel checks the ring for damage before noticing your shocked stupor. He looks at the box again, and signs through his nose before turning towards you. "I had a whole day planned, y'hear me?! For once, I wanted ta be the one surprisin' you...but seein' how you're all tight lipped now, guess I did a good, huh? So? What'dya say? Will you marry me?"

{Crafted using the common hardwood from one of the many apple trees on the family farm. On the outside, there is a carving of a tree taking roots to symbolize the start of a new life. Definitely not because he was surrounded by trees while working on it, and decided to use them for inspiration. When the box is open, the top lid has your names carved along with the date. Well, the date of his *intended* proposal. That will need to be altered. Inside is a simple rose-gold band with small diamonds. Despite the ring's simplicity, he hopes his efforts to make you feel special are not in vain}

NOTE: Translation for Rook: "I will cherish you. I will love you. I'll never let you go. With this ring, I'm yours till death do us part"

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