~SCYLLA'S JOURNAL OF MYSTERY WITH RANDOM INTERJECTIONS FROM EO-LAHALLIA AND CHARYBDIS~

I will now proceed to evaluate the events of today.

-T³ (The Teller of Tales) eats red herrings for breakfast.

-I'm lost.

-Paris is impatient; not yet eliminated as a suspect.

-Another red herring has fallen out of T³'s pocket.

-Saphira has bloody fingers.

-Hallia might be murdered.

-Scylla and Co. are unfortunate.

-Scylla is no longer a blundering idiot.

~Personal account~

This is alarming. I've never been in a ski lodge before. For odd reasons I won't explain, I have. I'll explain. It's because I wrote you into mine. I suppose that means I have as well. On to the account: The events are very suspenseful. 

~TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT INSTALLATION OF SCYLLA'S JOURNAL OF MYSTERY~ 

Day Seven
Who do we think we are?
No, really. Think about it.
Who do we really think that we are, and what are we doing with our lives?
No, not you. Shut up. Think.
Oh come on, you can come up with a better answer than that. It doesn't even make any sense. l don’t care about your pudding or your problems. Just think.
Here we are--blasting a thousand-odd miles through space on a chunk of rock that we just happen to call home sweet home. We don’t know a thing, we have not seen even the smallest fraction of the universe.
We’re lost souls in a brave new world and all the world’s our stage. And yet your name will never be remembered. You build onto the mountain that we call human achievement and not a soul will remember you when you’re gone. Your life doesn’t matter, and neither does whatever you want to do with it. Yes, that’s right, you can go cry in a corner. It doesn’t matter, none of it does.
This has been your daily dose of Depressing, Demotivational Declarations for the recently Deceased.
Moon shed a tear, and realizes that this pamphlet is stupid because she’s not dead and also because it's simply stupid. Why is she even reading these things anyways? They're depressing. Like reading reviews for movies you’ve never seen, or looking at postcards of places you’ll never go. “It’s useless.” She snaps to no one. No one doesn’t respond. Moon mutters more about depressing whatnot, before finding herself wandering to read more depressing pamphlets. Quill stumbles across a thoroughly depressed Moon. the two of them decidedly are depressed together, which actually isn’t very fun.
“My alter egos think l'm crazy.” Moon moans.
“My twin is dead.” Quill shoots back. And no one seems to care like at all.
“l swear she is crazy.” Tara whispers to Richard and Saphira, as they observe Moon through a crack in the door.
“You know that is awfully nice of you, Chary, but l can take care of myself.” Hallia is starting to feel slightly annoyed at Charybdis’s overprotectiveness. I mean really, what’s the worst that could go wrong? Chary frowns, shaking her head. She believes no such thing. She’s almost lost her...once? Too many times, that's what. She’s not risking it.
“Scylla! Tell Chary she’s being overprotective!” Hallia pleads, a whining tone starting to enter her voice. Scylla shakes her head. “l can’t. Did you see what happened to Spyro?” Nearby, Fia yelps. “Oh my gosh! That was terrifying!”
Ellak the dragon starts to look sicked at the mention of that. “l bet whomever did it didn't like dragons.” He mutters.
“Just look at them.” Nova exclaims to Ultron. “Sheep! The bunch of them! They can’t even think for themselves!”
They are watching the CBers mill around the main room, all carefully avoiding that one door, but otherwise acting very sheepish. The majority of them are sort of sleepily wandering around, knocking into things.
“l wonder if, perhaps, their brains are slowly evolving into sheep brains.” Ultron comments, as Daisy runs into a wall, and stops, staring at it for a few seconds. The rest of the CBers suddenly decide that running into a wall is a very good idea. Nova winces as Sandra slams into the wall at running speed. “You’d think they might be a little--” Thud. “--smarter.”
Ultron raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? I think they’re not. Just--” Kestrel nearly runs into him, backs off, and blinks. Then Bella starts blinking. Then Paris. Then everyone else. Blink, blink, blink. Ultron raises the other eyebrow. “Well then.”
Nova sighs. “Would you quit that?” She tells Novelist, politely. “It’s creepy.”
Novelist thus complies with only blinking one eye.
“Would you like…..do something else?” Nova asks.
And in unison, they all march a few steps back, spin on their heels, and split up to start running into the walls again.
Ultron winces as Shadow runs into and right through one of the walls.
“l thought humans would be smarter.” Nova says, as Jarvis and Sydney run into each other instead of the wall.”A lot smarter. Especially the more intelligent ones.” She adds, watching Brookeria and Alexandra crash into each other. If Ultron had any more eyebrows, he would have raised them.
“Maybe we could stop them?” He considers, as Mrs. Elton and Emerald decide to run into the same part of the wall.
“Mm. l don’t know. Maybe they’ll return to their senses one day.” Bolton runs into Ultron, nearly making him collapse.
“Oh my--” Ultron collapses to the ground.
“l sprained my eyebrows!”
Bolton collapse, apparently mimicking his behavior.
“What?! That isn’t possible!”
Silvery and Brian push their way through the sheepish CBers, looking very serious.
“What is your case, sir?” Brian asks.
“I sprained my eyebrows!”
Silvery shakes her head. “Not good, not good at all. We may be able to save you in time.”
“No, l am afraid, my good sir, that you are too far gone.” H.A.B. explains, pushing his way through the sheepish crowd. “Yours is a life-threatening condition, and l'm afraid that there is no cure for it. You’re going to die.”
“Do you doubt my medical skills?” Brian nearly snarls. “Or do you wish for him to die of strained eyebrows?”
“He’ll die anyways, no matter what you do.” H.A.B. says, crossing his arms. “There is no cure for sprained eyebrows.”
“There is, and l will find it!”
“l am afraid you are mistaken, my good sir. He’ll die within in the hour, soon, too.”
Ultron is looking very alarmed at this prospect. “l don’t want to die! I've yet to conquer the world! I've yet to live!”
“You lived a good life.” Silvery says, nodding. “But now you’re going to die, so get over it.”
“Well that’s nice.” Ultron grumbles.
He suddenly gasps, his eyes going wide.
“Tell Jarvis and Emerald--”
His eyes go blank.
Bolton, apparently still mimicking him, falls over dead.
“Well.” Brian says, looking at them. “Isn’t this nice?”
“At least he got over it quickly. Some don’t die quite as fast, you know. They cling to life, begging for mercy that you can never give them. Pitiful. You can’t kill them all, but l do what l can.”
H.A.B.’s statement is met by blank stares.
Maybe he said a little too much on the matter.
~~~~~
End Day Seven. Death Toll: Ultron and Bolton. Rest in peace. And let that teach you to never be a sheep again.

Diary of Lost Minds (ZEON'S):

- My bro died playing... sheep?

- People are going crazy

- SAPHIRA IS EV- *someone covers his mouth*

- I'm going crazy as a ghost... Quill needs me.

Diary of Observations:

- Saphira is suspected murder, but could be a false lead

- Paris is a slight suspect, but could also be a false lead

- Zeon is driving me crazy

- Quill... could she be it? Both of us were the first to die, and she relates to us. IS QUILL IT?

- Help me...

- I'm dying a second time as a ghost.

- Quill... must... be... it... 

Wow. Just wow. 

I just caught up reading. This is the most amazing, strange, creepy, nonsensical, wonderful, and hilarious ski lodge I have EVER read.

Thoughts~ (Or are they?)

-My Æs think I'm crazy. (Nothing new there)

-Saphira is possibly a murderer. (That..... That's new)

-Saphira is suspected of eating pork chops without a license.  

-Zeon keeps having to have his mouth covered, which does not bode well for Saphira.

-I detest rice pudding. And depressing pamphlets. 

-Someone needs to shear me. I think my wool is getting to long.  

~SCYLLA'S LIST OF SUSPECTS~

-HAB

-Saphira 

-Paris

I don't think anyone except HAB himself picked up the red herring that fell out of TTT's pocket. 

Okay, this Hotel appears to making everyone go insane. I most possibly making me glitch. 

Yep.  

I know what a red herring is. (And I cracked up when you said that you ate them for breakfast, T3)

Day Eight

Tick tock.

Click clack.

Sydney blinks awake. Something or someone, is clicking distantly, not enough to be unnoticed, but loud as so it worms into your brain and make you want to scream.

Tick tock. Click clack.

She nearly screams.

Will someone stop that infernal noise?

What is it?? It’s driving her crazy. She quietly creeps over to the door, maneuvering around the sleeping and sleepwalking CBers, except for Jarvis, who she trips over, and Nova who is apparently sleeping in the middle of the floor. She falls down in a cluttering heap. Machinery is not quiet.

“Sheep, l tell you.” She mutters, promptly tripping over Ellak, who has decided to also sleep in the middle of the floor. Machinery is even less quiet when it's in the form of a dragon.

“What are you doing?” Sydney hisses, annoyed. She just wanted to find whatever that noise was, not wake up everyone.

“What is that noise?” grumbles Shadow, sleepily.

“Mhm?” Saphira asks.

Sydney sighs. Now two robots and three dragons.

“Ah, nothing. Nothing at all. Just go back to sleep.”

“What is that noise?” Saphira asks, starting to notice right this now.

“And that’s what l was going to find out. So it’d be lovely if all of you could just go right back to sleep like good citizens--”

“Hey, we should go see what it is!” Shadow suggests.

Sydney groans. Are they even awake?

The other three nod eagerly.

“Brilliant!” Nova exclaims.

“Didn’t l--” She sighs. “Oh never mind.” She certainly isn’t staying here. It was her idea in the first place.

Despite the fact that they are obviously trying to be quiet, half asleep mechanical dragons are not mice, and therefore rather noisy.

“Do you want to wake you the whole hotel?” Sydney exclaims to Ellak. Who exactly thought bring dragons on a stealth missions was clever?

They follow the click-clacking sounds, father and father.

~~~~

Meanwhile, earlier that night, Scylla was awake. She had never properly fallen asleep, she was far too disturbed for that. It didn't make sense, none of it did. People were dying here. Ultron and Bolton had collapsed to her feet. And no one even seemed to care. They brushed it off. This wasn’t normal, this most certainly wasn’t right. Someone was killing people off here and it was only a matter of time until they set their sights on her. She wasn't going to stand for that. She knew that she had to do something, that she had to take action. How, exactly, she would do that, was unclear. Still, if there’s a will, there’s a way, and she betted that the murderer would come to her instead of vice versa.

She hadn’t expected them to show up so soon.

It was like they were reading her thoughts.

She was standing out in the main room, the various doors surrounding her, when the murderer showed up.

They were wearing a black cloak, distinctly hard to see in the near-darkness. Scylla noted that they were tall and moved gracefully, as if they were a dancer.

They said not a word, but held out a piece of paper to Scylla. She blinks at it for a few moments, confused. It’s written on the back of a what appears to a be a birthday card to someone named Sam.

In dull pencil, a shaky, 3x3 grid is drawn. A tic-tac-toe grid, actually. Lke you draw in the dust or the fog on a window. Beneath it, in childish handwriting, is written: You are clever. Play for your life. X goes first. X is also what a dead man’s eyes look like.

Scylla almost laughs. How stupid does that murderer think she is? She can win a simple game, especially if her life depends on it.

Then, the murderer takes out a dull pencil, firmly putting a solid X in the middle. Scylla frowns at taking a very long time to put a O in the left upper corner. X in the middle of the first row.

O underneath her first one. X lower left corner. Scylla chews on her pencils, considering the grid. There are four spaces left. With is sickening jerk she realizes that there is no possible why that she will be able to win. She could checkmate the murderer. Would that save her? Apparently the murderer can read her mind, as they scribbles on a corner of the paper: Checkmate: You die.

Suchen, scylla puts a O beneath the murderer’s two Xs. At least she wouldn’t let them win. X lower right corner. O mid right. X upper right corner. Checkmate.

Scylla can’t quite get it through her mind. Part of her thinks this is just a game, this is just a story, nothing can ever hurt you. Part of her still refuses to believe that this is really happening. Part of her wants to run away and live.

The murderer doesn’t stir. Finally, she says, “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

They write on the paper: Already have. There was a deadly poison in that pencil. You chewed on it. Good bye Scylla, have a happy and slow and painful death.

So this is it. She’s going to die. So this is the end of all things. She never thought dying would feel like this.

“Good…..bye?” She says hesitantly to no one in particular.

Adieu. The murderer scribbles their last message on the paper.

Adieu cruel world.

Dying isn’t nearly as fun as we all thought that it would be.

~~~~~~

Guided by the sound, they turn corner after corner. Saphira halts in her tracks, nearly making Nova run into her. “What is it?” She asks, trying to peer over Saphira’s shoulder. She soon got to see for herself.

Scylla is stumbled over on the ground, a piece of paper fluttering beside her. Deep, fresh, claw marks gorge the ground, as if some very mad dragon decided to tear up the flooring. Sydney carefully makes her way over to Scylla, touching her wrist.

“She’s dead.” She declares, somberly. “And probably has been for a very long time. Her body is cold.”

Something here seems unfinished, like coffee left in the bottom of a mug long after the drinker is gone. Something is not right. Sydney turns to face them.

“Those….claw marks. They were made by a dragon. And the only dragons are the ones here.” She says slowly.

“So presumably…..the murderer is standing right here.”

Shadow snorts. “That is absurd. Who says a dragon had to do it?”
“Look at the evidence.” Sydney says, raising an eyebrow. “The writing’s on the wall.”

Silence. The dragons are looking unnerved.

“Whoever made those claw marks didn’t necessarily have to have murdered Scylla.” Ellak says, quietly.

Nova shake her head. “l don’t think so.”

~~~~~~

They had a funeral for Scylla. There was much debate on whether they should bury or cremate her. “Fire is so awfully pretty.” Daisy points out. “And hot.” Bella objects, “And dangerous, too.” Kestrel adds.

“But then where would we bury her?” Paris asks. “It’s not like we can bury her under the floorboards.”

“We could put her in the freezer.” H.A.B. suggests.

“Set her adrift in a boat in the swimming pool. Like a Viking funeral.” Emerald says.

“She wasn’t a Viking!” Moon interjects. “You can’t do that!”

“Says who?” Chary grumbles.

“We need a cornfield, that’s what we need.” Sandra concludes.

“Why?” Novelist asks.

“Oh you know, so you can march them off to the cornfield….” She it met with blank stares. “Nevermind.”

It was decided that she should be cremated, so Bookworm was ordered to go fetch some books for fuel and just hope that they don’t burn the place down.

“She lived a good life.” Alexandra sniffs. Mrs. Elton hands her a handkerchief. They cover her body in German history books. Hallia has the honor of setting the torch to the books. She doesn’t shed a tear, but simply stares at the licking flames. So much fire. So much can burn.

Quill blinks at the gathering flames. “They never died in such glory.” She whispers, vengeful, but no one hears her.

~~~~~~

End Day Eight. Death Toll: Scylla. Rest in peace.