[EVENT] Memory Tapes

[vrdr_mods]

On the morning of November 21st, denizens in the Velvet Room will awake to a message on their phones or by their bedsides in an envelope. Perhaps even on their computer screens.

Greetings! If you've received this message, then you've been selected as a participant in a new activity to strengthen bonds within this community.

In order to facilitate connections with your fellow residents, we advise you to watch this video. Watch it and return the tape to its rightful owner. If you lacked the means to watch VHS tapes before, we have provided you with the necessary equipment.

Failure to do so may put your own memories at risk. Do not be selfish, lest you find yourself struggling to recall crucial moments of your life. You have no way of knowing which memories have been shared, so ask yourself if it is worth the risk to selfishly hoard another's secrets.

They will soon find a VHS tape, with a case that gives off a soft, blue glow to symbolize its importance. If they lack a TV or VCR, they will find one in their living space.

What they do is up to them, but they should heed the warning, if they value their own memories.


[For links to characters' memories, please see this post in the OOC comm. Have fun!]

Comments

[seekerofjustice]

Dove can't help but lament being seen through once again, but he can't help but let out a small, relenting chuckle in response.

"Guilty as charged. I suppose it's one of my worse habits, being unable to take such things at face value."

Then again... what can he take at face value?

There's a solid of moment of silence as he stares down at the cat in his cup. He knows now what he needs to do, but he finds it difficult to look away from the silly thing. After all, he only has so long to enjoy its presence before it disappears.

"..."

Then Kira speaks again, about how he could use his latte art in a competition to claim the all too coveted Joker codename. Ah, perhaps the others would be jealous by such a talent...

He forces himself to look away from the cat, to look back at Kira. Oh, how much time he must have put into practice. The nearly endless days and nights...

...And to think, he's broken that privacy, that right that his secrets are his own.

The way Kira muses about the attic, the flash in his eyes that indicate he sees something beyond anything Dove can see... It's then that Dove finds his smile all but fading.

He gently sets his coffee back down, and reaches beneath his coat. He can't hide it any longer, he has to give it back. He had no right to this knowledge, this weight of tragedy.

As he reaches, moving to pull the tape out, he speaks again.

"Kira-san. Apologies for shifting the subject, but I believe I have something for you. Something important."

The look in Dove's eyes make it all too clear what he's about to say.

[linkclickakira]

Akira knows he shouldn’t have said any of that.

It was a stupid thing to let slip, really.

The attic, the memories, the red. It had no place in the conversation, no reason to be spoken aloud—but sometimes, his mind wandered places his mouth was too slow to stop.

And now, Dove was looking at him like that.

Like he knew. Like he understood something he was never supposed to.

And God, does he wish he could stop.

Even if it was hopeless. Even if it was painful.

Even if it was better than here.

Because this—this stasis, this endless waiting game, this world full of ghosts that are too jagged or too kind, ghosts that shouldn’t be here—this is worse.

Worse than facing him again.

Worse than facing any Akechi.

Worse than facing an Akechi that is alive.

So Akira does what he always does—he covers it up.

"Ah, my bad," he says lightly, waving a hand in dismissal, as if swatting the whole thing away like an errant coffee bean on the counter. "Just some stupid rambling—love my hotel room, actually. Five stars, would recommend. Great ambiance, totally amazed by an actual bed and not something supported on crates—"

He stops.

Because Dove is moving.

Because Dove is reaching into his coat.

Because the second Akira sees the edge of that tape, his stomach lurches.

His breath stalls.

His heart doesn’t drop—no, that would be too soft of a metaphor. It’s more like it gets ripped out and slammed onto the floor, because he knows, knows exactly what Dove is about to say before the words even leave his mouth.

"Kira-san," Dove says, and there’s something grave in his voice.

Akira stares.

The look in Dove’s eyes tells him everything.

It’s a look he’s seen before.

He’s seen it on himself, reflected in a dirty mirror after waking up from timelines he doesn’t talk about.

He’s seen it in the faces of others, in the way they hesitate before saying something they know will hurt.

And yet—

And yet, his mouth moves before he can think better of it.

"Shit—if this is a confession, I gotta warn you, I’m kind of a heartbreaker," he says, flashing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Or, y’know, heartbroken, but who’s keeping track?"

It’s easy. It’s always easy. Throw out a joke, play the fool, keep the tension from sinking in too deep.

But even as he keeps the mask up, his fingers twitch against the counter.

Please be a wrong tape. Please be a normal damn tape.

And God, he doesn’t know if he can stomach watching it.

[seekerofjustice]

How it pains Dove to see Kira react to the tape this way. They both know what this tape contains, and he knows that Kira is smart enough to know that Dove himself knows.

"...I'm sorry, Kira. I do wish that it wasn't the case, but I've come to realize that you are the one this tape belongs to."

He tries his best to keep his eye contact, but it's certainly not easy. He doesn't enjoy a single bit of this.

"I apologize."

And with that, he lowers his head in regret.

[linkclickakira]

"I apologize."

"I’m sorry, Kira."

Apologizing, again and again—like he pities him.

Akira’s fingers twitch against the counter.

His grin stays in place, but it shifts, sharpens, something almost imperceptibly wrong at the edges.

"Hey—cut that out." His voice is light, but it carries an edge now, a flicker of something more visceral beneath the surface. "You keep saying that, but you haven’t told me a damn thing."

He gestures vaguely toward the tape, but his eyes stay locked onto Dove, unwavering.

"So? What did you see?"

There’s something almost too casual about the way he asks it, too at ease despite the tension in his posture.

He keeps the mask up effortlessly, like he isn’t spiraling inside, like there isn’t a cold, creeping dread seeping into his bones.

"And, c’mon," he adds, the grin still in place, but his voice is sharper now. "You’re looking at me like I ran over your dog—what is it that’s so damn interesting about my history that it’s making you react like that?"

Kira has spent years pretending nonchalant and dismissive about the truth. He's spent a whole year fooling everyone by doing absolutely nothing and standing amongst the shadows of others as he let fate take its natural course. Without any of his intervention.

Fake it till you make it, right?

[seekerofjustice]

Dove cringes, feeling the sharpness in Kira's tone.

It's true. What's he doing, not even explaining it? He needs to be open, honest. Just hiding behind apologies and pretending he didn't see anything doesn't change a thing.

It doesn't make it any easier to tackle it, but he grits his teeth. He raises his head back up to look Kira in the eye. His eyes darken, and he gulps, trying to find the air to say it.

"...Time looping, over and over... You and your Akechi grew closer, and yet every time something broke, and you returned to the start. You couldn't bear to lose him, but you lost everything else you had... You-- You were..."

His voice cracks as he goes along, and his eyes try to tear up against himself. He tries so hard not to, but he can feel what he felt while watching it return to him. Those strange emotions he doesn't know how to process trying to overwhelm him again.

He can't help but slam one of his fists down onto the counter, and his eyes finally break away from Kira's as he tries to keep himself from crying outright.

[linkclickakira]

Akira’s expression doesn’t shift as Dove spirals in front of him. He keeps himself hauntingly still, his gaze fixed and distant, like he’s staring past the boy breaking down in front of him. The words time looping and *losing everything* echo in his ears, dredging up flashes from the timeline he’d been peeled from—those endless resets, the ache of watching Goro fall again and again, and the crushing realization that he could never save them both.

"I-"

The memories are too vivid, too close to the surface. They creep in despite his best efforts to suppress them. His body shudders involuntarily, a faint tremor starting in his shoulders and working its way down. He feels the familiar ache—the one that settles deep in his chest whenever he lets himself remember that place.

"...I don't have anything special-"

When Dove’s fist slams onto the counter, Akira’s eyes widen slightly, startled. Not from fear, but from the sheer rebellion in the act—like Dove couldn’t stand the idea of Akira laying himself bare, all his shame and grief open and raw. And somehow, Dove’s refusal to let it go stirs something heavy in him.

He really had been ready to lie.

Ready to deny the tape, brush it off, and pretend none of it mattered because it clearly belonged to someone else. But Dove’s reaction makes the guilt twist harder in his gut.

The words of dismissal die on his lips before they even form.

Instead, he lowers his gaze, hands slipping into his pockets as he speaks, his tone so dark it almost disappears into the air between them.

A weak chuckle that follows cracks painfully at the end. He lifts trembling hands from his pockets and presses them over his face, as if trying to hide the shame etched into every part of him.

After a long, tense silence, Akira drags in a deep breath. Slowly, one hand falls to his chest, pressing firmly against the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. He can feel the outline of the ring—the one he and his Goro had shared in that doomed world. The only piece of that place he’d managed to keep.

But he knows better than anyone that leaving that way isn’t possible here.

When he finally looks up again, his demeanor is darkened, his smile small and brittle. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s the best he can offer.

"Guess my secret’s out now, huh? No more hiding." His tone is flat, almost resigned.

He watches Dove carefully, guilt laced into every word of his next apology.

"I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to see all of that- it must have stressed you out like hell, huh?"

His shoulders sag, exhaustion radiating from every part of him.

[seekerofjustice]

Dove turns to meet Kira's eyes once more, shaking his head.

"You shouldn't be apologizing. It's... It's not your fault that your secret was handed out for me to see."

His eyes lower to meet the tape on the counter again, still looking dark, or perhaps... mournful?

"...I know that apologies and sympathies can do nothing to change the past, but... I felt something when I saw what you went through."

What? What does he feel? He's not entirely sure...

"It made me... sad. And angry, I believe. To see the both of you suffer so much. I wondered why. It... was unfair. Unjust, even. I still struggle to..."

He still sounds uncertain, and almost disbelieving. Like it's shattering something intrinsic to his worldview.

"...But please, do not apologize to me. I don't regret my emotion and energy being spent on wishing for your wellbeing and happiness."