YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 7

[a1c0bb]

For this round, we want to see prompts that are based on settings or locations! For your prompts, please provide a location or setting. It can be as specific or as abstract as you want, and can be in any medium you prefer!

POINTS - BONUS ROUNDS
For prompts: 10 points each (maximum of 150 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:
First 4 fills by any member of your team: 100 points each
Fills 5-10: 50 points each
Fills 11-20: 40 points each
Fills 21-50: 30 points each
Fills 51+: 25 points each

Comments

FILL: Team Anime/Manga

[hopelessgemini]

“He’s dead,” Winter announces, rising to her feet from beside the body.

Cinder gestures to the pool of blood on the floor. “Obviously.”

She flashes her a look that Cinder brushes off. Winter has never been all that intimidating to her, not for a while. “He could still have been alive. We could have called an ambulance, and all this could’ve been done with.”

“Oh, please, like any of us want to be here,” May says stiffly. Funny, Cinder had almost forgotten she was here in the first place. She’s wearing an awful lot of blue.

The force of Winter’s glare switches from Cinder to her. “You think this is a game? A man just died, May.”

“Jimmy Ironwood was a fascist and an asshole who spent nearly twenty years grooming you to become his successor,” she says shortly, “so forgive me if I don’t exactly feel sympathetic.”

Winter’s face twists. It’s rather startling to see; Cinder doesn’t think she’s ever seen that exact combination of grief and self-hatred on her old best friend’s face before.

She wipes her bloodstained hands on the white of her trousers and steps neatly over the blood, avoiding both Cinder and May’s gaze. “That may be, but he is — he was like a father to me. Someone in this house killed him, and I want to know who.”

“Well, I would also like to know if we have to share a mansion with a killer,” Cinder mutters, because someone needs to fill the weird silence she left behind. “Maybe we’ll even get lucky and they’ll take Councilwoman Slate out, too.”

There’s that glare again. Cinder stares back defiantly anyway.

May makes a noise like a tire deflating and storms out of the room, the bloodstained hem of her dress trailing behind her, presumably to alert the other guests. Cinder doesn’t particularly care, but she hopes May bothers to tell them not to leave anyway. There’s something a little bit dangerous in the thought of letting a potential murderer run around downtown Atlas.

“Well,” Winter says as soon as the door shuts behind her, “that was illuminating.”

Cinder shoots her a sharp look. “Why? You think May killed him?” She kicks Ironwood’s hand for good measure. Winter winces.

“Not her, obviously. May likes to get her hands dirty, but she’s one of Robyn’s.” She looks at Cinder out of the corner of her eye, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I haven’t ruled you out yet.”

“We were making out in the closet,” Cinder snaps. Winter flashes her a grin.

“Well, I don’t know what you’re capable of. For all I know, you staged the entire thing to frame me.”

“Oh yes, because the fact that you wiped your own hands on your fucking trousers is somehow my fault —”

Winter surges across the room, pinning Cinder’s back against the wall next to the door. She doesn’t even have it in her to be surprised by the suddenness of it all, but the forwardness does give her pause. She tilts her head to the side, waiting.

There’s no kiss. Not even a brush of her lips against the hollow of Cinder’s throat, which is what she’s come to expect in meetings like these. Winter just leans forward, resting her head on the curve of her shoulder, and murmurs, “I’d like to come home with you tomorrow, if you wouldn’t mind.”

And that’s the end of that, really.