It's Curtains Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stagemanagers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
itscurtains2020-07-11 11:52 am
stagemanagers) wrote in itscurtains2020-07-11 11:52 am
first trial
[Within a few minutes of the performers is finishing their investigations, the lights in every room flicker on and off several times. For those in or close to the lobby, they hear a faint rumbling. The gilded doors across from the heavy wooden front doors (which have always been there, the showrunners may have gotten to indicate them on the map) have opened.
Your intermission is ending. The show is about to begin.
The space behind them is lit; you're free to enter. It's a very short hallway, decorated in the same way as the lobby with the light walls and red carpet. There is one more set of doors to pass through and then you're all, finally, in the House. There's one grand chandelier above, glittering crystal, and the seats around you are made of fine, if dust-caked, red velvet. Those don't seem to be for you though - all the way down in front of the stage, where the orchestra might sit, there's a circle of wooden podiums. They're arranged so that everyone can face each other and are fixed into place. Each one bears a metal plaque with a cast member's name engraved on it. There's also a metal panel on top, with twenty ivory buttons paired to everyone's name.
Among these, only Jonny's podium is different - that one is draped in black crepe, with a larger grey-scale version of his headshot from the playbill framed and sitting at on top like a funerary portrait. Standing where he might have stood, a bare light bulb glows faintly atop a metal pole.
Right here, you're very close to the stage. But the curtain is closed, and it's a little too high to easily clamber up. You may not want to try. You've got more important business right now, after all.
As everyone is finding their places, the Phantom's voice suddenly sounds loud and clear throughout the space. If anyone is to look up, however, they'll see the dark suited figure of him and the whiteness of his mask peering over the edge of box 5.]
You must now determine who was responsible for the death of Jonny D'Ville. Submit your vote on the podiums when you are certain of your choice.
Your intermission is ending. The show is about to begin.
The space behind them is lit; you're free to enter. It's a very short hallway, decorated in the same way as the lobby with the light walls and red carpet. There is one more set of doors to pass through and then you're all, finally, in the House. There's one grand chandelier above, glittering crystal, and the seats around you are made of fine, if dust-caked, red velvet. Those don't seem to be for you though - all the way down in front of the stage, where the orchestra might sit, there's a circle of wooden podiums. They're arranged so that everyone can face each other and are fixed into place. Each one bears a metal plaque with a cast member's name engraved on it. There's also a metal panel on top, with twenty ivory buttons paired to everyone's name.
Among these, only Jonny's podium is different - that one is draped in black crepe, with a larger grey-scale version of his headshot from the playbill framed and sitting at on top like a funerary portrait. Standing where he might have stood, a bare light bulb glows faintly atop a metal pole.
Right here, you're very close to the stage. But the curtain is closed, and it's a little too high to easily clamber up. You may not want to try. You've got more important business right now, after all.
As everyone is finding their places, the Phantom's voice suddenly sounds loud and clear throughout the space. If anyone is to look up, however, they'll see the dark suited figure of him and the whiteness of his mask peering over the edge of box 5.]
You must now determine who was responsible for the death of Jonny D'Ville. Submit your vote on the podiums when you are certain of your choice.
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[This is fine, this is definitely something productive to focus on and not a distraction from his utter failure so far today.]
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[he sounds kinda annoyed by this!]
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[...is he actually complaining, probably not.]
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So she whispers--]
It sounds like whatever happened, he didn't like it. So we should probably remember it. We might be able to find something.
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There's got to be something, right? Now that we know.
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