After the claustrophobia of the flower shop and the many things it brought up you’d rather not talk about, moving onto the next car seemed like a swell idea. It was more naturally peaceful right here, perhaps, but what difference did that make with this group? Violence would find a way wherever you went, it seemed.
Whether you kept any flowery souvenirs or not, you crossed along the bridge to the next door.
Inside was another overly colorful setup, this time much less cramped. In one corner a clean cluster of elementary school desks with chairs waited, rows and rows of bright cubbies behind them teeming with art and study supplies. More eye-catching was the large play area with all manner of slides and swings and the like atop a colorful patchwork of bright foamy tiles.
Unlike some of the cars that felt lively but empty, quite a few small Denizens were running about. A collection of large children’s toys seemed to be doing their best to entertain and otherwise corral a number of… What exactly? Things that chittered and ran and looked like young children at the barest glance. But upon further examination, there was a paper-like quality to them—or maybe more like… flour bags?
“Oh, this looks like such a fun car, don’t you think? Or if you don’t, you know the easiest way to get out!”
“Just remember, killing a Denizen doesn’t count for our game!”
Neko-Neko, the only spiky metal sort of thing in sight, strolled to the desks to contemplate their value as a scratching post. Did they really expect you to kill… toys and children? How could you mistake any of those as one of your group “eligible” for killing?
“…What is this about killing?” A voice chimed in from another corner of the car. For all of its unfamiliar warmth, it seemed hauntingly familiar.
You turned in the direction of the voice, only to be greeted by a sight that sent a chill down your spine and a burst of cold through your blood.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HfkoK-h23dg
“…Whatever the case is, I wager you can get through this car just fine. Although there’s certainly plenty of children to keep us busy…”
Standing before you was a woman in a nun’s outfit, smiling warmly and serenely. But something felt… off. It’s her face, it’s those eyes… No, it couldn’t possibly be—right?
“…You can call me Sister. I’ll be doing my best to help you handle the children. Hopefully without resorting to any… killing.” Sister scowled at the word, like even just saying it spread a pungent taste throughout her mouth.
A silence hung over you all for a moment, which Sister broke, smiling at you nervously.
“…Why are you looking at me like you’ve seen a ghost?”
But looking out at the children wasn’t any better—some of them seemed rather familiar, too…
In ways you perhaps didn’t care for.
—
[Car Reference Post]
