[Room #1]

[dramatispersonae]

You find yourselves in a large, square Japanese-style room. It was likely lovely once, but time and neglect have taken their toll. The screens are crooked and the tatami of the floor has come unwoven in places. The scent of incense hangs in the air, but it does little to mask the pervasive odor of decay. Flickering candles of different heights ring the outskirts of the room, causing your shadows (they are your shadows, certainly?) to dance.

A curtain covers something bulky against one wall. Silk cushions in your team's color have been placed on the floor in front of the curtain, around a makeshift table that looks like it began life as a box of drawers. It's a flat surface, anyway.

The Masked Lady's voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, echoing in your ears and down your spine.

"Central to any scary story are two things: an injustice, and a monster created by that injustice, wouldn't you agree? Otherwise it wouldn't be scary. So, children, tell me about your monster, and how she came to be."

Comments

Re: ANSWER

[ahorseforgood]

The girl determines to show her lover that despite her work, he is first in her heart. She spends hours preparing a day to be a special occasion for him, making decorations for her small room and cooking food for a dinner, and tells him her feelings in every way she can think of. He scorns the meal and the confession, saying that if she truly loved him, she would change her life. He calls her love a poor compensation for his own self-absorbed anger. In her own anger at being belittled, she orders him out of her house and her life, then weeps bitterly in the privacy of her bed. What has she done? She still loves him, but the feeling is like bitter ashes in her mouth. Is he right? Is she a terrible lover, a monstrous and hurtful girl?