the caged birds screech — avpa. [clue]

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

he holds the gun
against my head
i close my eyes and
bang i am dead

The thunder sounded as if it was singing premonitions into the gloom of the skies.

It howled, and barked, overhead as the twelve stood about the foyer, each person distinct from the other through hair and eyes, through motives and morals, but the heaviness inside their hearts undeniably the same.

Except for one’s, Adam mused.

The heart of the one with the blood-stained hands. His dark eyes hopscotched from one face to the next, scrutinizing them for any telltale signs, but nothing. It called for a fiasco when twelve liars were grouped together, each one with a signature method of their own.

Beryl’s was the sweet talk, the sugar-coated syllables, the swirl of his tongue and the pink of his lips. Harvey’s was the stoic persona. Poppy, with the unwavering confidence. He was skeptic as his gaze landed on Indigo, and Adam had to remind himself that the best liars were those who feigned to be the best truth-tellers. You knew your lies were foolproof when they resonated as truths, and nothing but truths. He wondered what his own, favored method of lying was as the others drew closer.

The groups festered the headache in Adam’s temples. His was a recipe for disaster.

For instance, Poppy loathed him as much as he found her distasteful. The gears in Adrien’s head, on the other hand, often went haywire. Violet, on the third hand, was simply strange and whimsical, an enigma, an odd flower. She reminded Adam of a young deer, probing its brown snout at wherever she smelt nectar, her doe eyes glistening. He tore his back away from the wall and trailed after the others as they separated. He had a primal urge to search for Beryl amongst the two other groups, but resisted it, hands bared into fists at his sides. Beryl was already there in the cavern of his mouth, in his labyrinthine head.

He adjusted the collar of his shirt to make the lilac marks stitched onto the skin around there less conspicuous, and picked up his pace.

Fluorescence rained down the kitchen, and made it seem depressingly blue and cold, Adam’s arms folding in front of his chest on instincts. The rain pouring outside didn’t offer any solace. “This is stupid,” he growled, his annoyance obvious in the words, “we should just make a hole in the fucking fence and get the hell out of here. Malcolm’s dead, and so are the prizes—either one of us could be next.” Then, after his eyes danced about from one face to the other once more, Adam said, his tone much lower, sterner.

“Or, one of us is the one who lost control.”

He expected a reply—a snide remark from Poppy or logic from Adrien—but before anything could be said, before the next rain droplets could splatter themselves across the sodden earth like fresh blood, a loud noise exploded from all about them. Adam heard a metallic creak, then a raucous crash, and then nothing, except for the gentle pitter-patter, except for his own heartbeat. Eyes, wild and blown wide, spun around, counting the members of their group—one, two.

One missing, they found.

“Violet?” Adam called out, before he saw the door blocking access to the kitchen, a thick sheet of unbreakable metal, something that was not there a few minutes ago. “Violet!” he shouted, slamming on the metal. Only then, panic rose in Adam’s chest and he felt as a caged bird would feel, encircled by iron walls and bars. They were trapped here, eleven birds and one hawk, eleven preys and one predator.

he holds my body in his arms
he didn't mean
to do no harm
and he holds me tight




lyrics: aurora — murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

[✨ zozo.]

when i walk in the room
i think about leaving
something in the air, something in the air
s o m e t h i n g i n t h e a i r

She had searched for familiar, comforting faces in her time of need but Beryl, Indigo, Fiora and Whitney had already vanished by the time she had raised her gaze. Instead she was left with Adrien - with an awkward first impression that seemed to last an eon - and the duo of Poppy and Adam that had barely said a word to her since she'd arrived here all those months ago.

Sighing, she unfolded her arms and marched toward the kitchen. Violet didn't like the idea of turning her back on her enemies but someone had to lead the pack. If they were going to find dead bodies or worse, the least this group could do was let someone who could handle it, handle it. Besides, Violet was good at finding things. It was the one thing she'd proven over these past months. Finding shortages of fruits and vegetables, finding documents under tables, finding Adrien's face in Mr. Nox's.

Finding herself trapped in the kitchen.

"HELLO?!" she bellowed once the crash of the metal door closing had faded from the now-empty room. "ADAM? ADRIEN? POPPY?"

No response, so she scrambled forward and took her fists to the door, pounding with each syllable that left her mouth.

"THIS ISN'T FUNNY GUYS!"

Voice hoarse, panic rising with every word, Violet felt her body clench up with fear. Lungs once happily rising and falling with her chest, the flower girl found them suddenly desperate for air.

"H-H-H-HELP! G-GUYS! F-FUUUAAARCK!"

Malcolm Nox had been found dead in his office with his his throat slit open and an image that had barely made Violet Ender flinch now filled her brain, red and black and deathly white, drowning in the idea of death.

So she did what any desperate idiot trapped in a kitchen would do - grab a knife and hide.

picking on me
like a four leaf clover
bleeding through the walls
bleeding through the walls
t h r o u g h t h e w a l l s

table by griffin | terror jr lyrics

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

I Painted you a picture, picture full of light
includes a heavy memory, memory so bright
I can't change your thoughts, my dear
I can't change your fears

There was a numbness in him.

It was the only way he could describe it: not a feeling—

a lack thereof.

He was supposed to feel the inferno within him, a battle cry building from the pit of his stomach and clawing its way up his throat and through clenched teeth; he was supposed to taste war on his tongue. His heart should have been beating differently, as if time itself was holding its breath along with him, just waiting to exhale.

But the world carried on; Adrien was just a fraction. His heartbeat was steady, the world kept turning, unaware. He was just a boy who didn't say what he should have when he had the chance, a child who lost a chance he never would have taken in the first place.

He kept his hands buried into his pockets, content to disappear. The silence was encompassing, and isolation was, perhaps the only coping mechanism he could manage. Everything else seemed terrifying: Poppy and Adam and Violet, they were there and they didn't realize it. Violet, who was not bad, who was another casualty of Adrien's indifference. Adam, who hadn't even realized how easily Adrien had lied to him just yesterday. Poppy, who had known how dangerous he was from the start, who was not blinking first. They were there, and they did not even realize it. But what was he meant to do? When they stopped to let him catch up, he saw the answer in the corner of his eyes:

Let them in.

Even if it was scary.

"We should just make a hole in the fucking fence and get the hell out of here," Adam said; the fire Adrien should have been feeling had tattooed itself sometime in the past; who he'd once been had burned and all that was left was the bitterness of ash.

"We'd need hardware that isn't exactly just laying around in a place like this," he said, walking an imaginary line with his hands stretched out for balance, "Rich people pay other people to bring their tools over when something goes wrong."

A noise sounded: blaring and piercing and shrill, sending chills down his spine as he covered his ears. An omen. A warning.

He looked at Violet just in time to see the huge sheet of metal fall across the doorway and locking her in the kitchen.

"Shit," he said, quickening pace until he slammed into the silver with his hands. It wasn't even enough to make a dent and he knew nothing he could do would be enough.

"Don't move, okay? We're gonna get you out!" he shouted, turning away and gesturing for the others to follow.

"There's an instruction manual. I remember seeing it on one of the bookshelves by the main entrance," he said, eyes flicking to the flickering lights above them, "Electricity is still on, so we should be able to get it open."

‘cause your heart isn't safe
you won't go, you are not a runner,
if you could follow your heart gently
you wouldn't be this mess

song: forest fires

[sidney]

looks like a girl, but she's a flame
so bright, she can burn your eyes
better look the other way
you can try but you'll never forget her name

Her mind is elsewhere and it has been for a while, though she remains glued to Adrien's side. For comfort? I guess, she thinks. He always has had a knack for calming her nerves, somehow acing a crash course in all things Poppy in the short time they've known one another. His voice soothes her, but even so—even with her hand wrapped around his forearm and the warmth of his frame negating the persistent chills that run down her spine—she's still anxious. Still worried. For him. For Whitney. For the others that still remain in this god-forsaken house.

With a murderer.

And now Violet has gone and gotten herself stuck. A real damsel-in-distress if Poppy had ever seen one, and she can't help but roll her eyes as she calls out for help. It's uncontrollable—an instinctual reaction she can't help but elicit. Frustration and annoyance at this, for all intents and purposes, complete waste of time. And the company she's currently keeping. Adam says something about just escaping and a pit forms in the depths of Poppy's gut.

Leave? Now? What about the prize?

He says it's dead, but the boy whose bed she's spent the night in more than once these past few months looks a lot like an heir to her. Perfectly capable of taking over his father's competition. Perfectly capable of picking the right person to win. She wonders, if given the chance, if Adrien would just crown himself King and call it a day. Would he show Poppy any loyalty? She isn't sure, but what she is sure of is that very question is what's causing her the most stress. All the work she's put in can't be for nothing. All the sweet little nothing's she's whispered in his ear have to be worth more than just a piece of his heart.

She peels away from him slowly, recalling the exact spot he's referring to. Instruction manual. Main entrance. Poppy remembers seeing it a while ago on one of her slightly tipsy adventures throughout the mansion after dark. It was out of place and too large for casual reading—clearly having a purpose other than to entertain. Although listening to Violet cry out was rather hilarious so she took her time venturing back to the main entrance. 

"You mean this one?" She turns the corner and grabs the heavy book from the shelf to her right. Peaking back around the corner, she holds it up and tilts it side to side as she walks back to Adrien and Adam. "Here," Poppy half smiles as she hands it off to her favorite of the two. "Get her out of there, please. I can't listen to the whining anymore." 

nobody knows that she's a lonely girl
and it's a lonely world
but she gon' let it burn, baby, burn
this girl is on fire